Fin stood staring at the captain with his arms folded across his chest as the aides filed out the garden door. Oddly, Sirs Lewis and Taylor had nearly run from the room the moment the captain entered.
Captain Antonio peered around the kitchen with his one good eye, his shoulders stiff and his cheeks tinged with pink. The man seemed to be avoiding looking at Fin, which only made the cook all the more anxious as he waited for the leader of the knights to speak.
“Ashowan, I am very sorry to have to deliver this news to you …” The captain cleared his throat and widened his stance.
The redhead’s heart stopped.
They knew.
He’d gone to the ball and was about to be fired.
Gods, did they know about Annika and him already?
“You missed … Lord Piereva having the new bard dancing against him under a literal beam of light in front of every noble in the room.”
Fin blinked. Then remembered he “had not heard” of the events yet.
“You’re joking,” he managed at long last. Fortunately, the captain was too distracted with trying to maintain his composure to notice.
“No. I swear to the Gods, I wish there was a way you could’ve seen it. Though it may not have been as funny to you as the rest of us. Have you met Lord Piereva?”
Fin raised an eyebrow as a slow smirk climbed his face.
“Many times.”
The captain was nodding distractedly when he finally registered what the cook had just said.
“Why have you met Lord Piereva ‘many times’?”
“The earl often has diarrhea and wants to discuss his food.”
The captain was completely caught off guard by the response and snorted before he could stop himself. “That is interesting information. It would explain the man’s disposition for sure.”
Fin nodded, using every ounce of his inner strength to feign seriousness.
“I am sorry I missed such an event. He is an unpleasant man. Pardon my saying so,” the cook added, while feigning a somber attitude.
The captain shook his head, his features immediately drawing taut.
“How someone like Lady Jenoure and the earl could be related, I’ll never know.”
“Troivack often treats the heads of their families like Gods. The women are expected to be silent, strong breeders from what I’m given to understand.” Fin felt his jaw set as his mind threatened to envision Annika being raised in such an environment.
“The saying ‘two heads are better than one’ can be applied to an entire populace when it comes to genders. A pity they don’t realize the benefit of this.”
Fin nodded before he realized there was still an odd tension in the air. Something was off with the captain. The redhead turned a skeptical eye to the man, and the knight—being his usual perceptive self—seemed to acknowledge that he needed to dive into what was troubling him sooner rather than later.
“Er … Ashowan. I … As you may have heard, I lost my wife many years ago.”
Fin felt his eyebrow lift.
“Last night I was on my way to my mother’s cottage, when I encountered Sir Taylor, and he invited me to join himself and Sir Lewis in your cottage with Kate …”
Fin felt his fingers grip into a fist.
“Well, I … err … She is an incredibly charming woman and … I do not mean to cross the line or pry into—”
“Captain?”
“Yes?”
“For the love of the Gods, are you trying to tell me you want to court my mother?”
The captain of Daxaria’s military said nothing for nearly a minute before he finally met Fin’s gaze.
“I am. She is unlike any woman I have ever met.”
“Captain, wouldn’t someone with your position in the court be expected to marry a noble?” the cook asked in choked tones.
“Er … well … I’ve always been a lower noble, and I’ve earned a good deal of favor with the king through the years …” The captain cleared his throat. “My position is appointed based on skill. It does not factor in ranking or heirs, so I have a bit of leniency pertaining to my domestic interests.” The captain looked like a young awkward man attempting to ask a girl’s father for permission to go for a stroll. The fact that he was well into his sixties was irrelevant.
“I see.” Fin didn’t want to ask the next obvious question, but he knew the conversation would drag on for longer than he’d prefer otherwise. “Captain … are you trying to ask for my permission?”
Captain Antonio coughed and awkwardly covered his mouth as he tried to maintain his composure.
“I … I … of course your mother is a grown woman who can make her own decisions … However, you and I have on occasion crossed paths in an informal setting, and it would feel strange if I should pursue a carriage ride with her should you object.”
Fin lowered his forehead to his hand and began rubbing soothing circles into his temples.
“Captain, my mother isn’t aware you know about my father. Which also dredges up the small matter of her still being married to Troivack’s chief of military. Not to mention she hasn’t heard anything from or about him in decades. Have you thought this through at all?” the cook asked with mounting tension.
“Your mother has not laid eyes on your father for more than twenty years. Should worse come to worse, she could formally appeal to the magistrate of Rollom for desertion. Leaving her open to—”
“—Alright. You’ve given this some thought.” Fin let out a long sigh. “I honestly cannot speak for my mother. I can only say that should you disrespect her or attempt to harm her, I won’t be fair in our next fight.” In truth he was sounding drastically calmer than he felt.
The captain bowed slightly, his face slightly paler.
“I will treat your mother—”
“That’s enough. No more. Nope. No. Good day, Captain.” Fin shook his head firmly, hands on his hips and his eyes fixed on his worktable. He couldn’t look at the man quite yet.
The captain opened and closed his mouth twice, before clearing his throat, then turning toward the garden door and striding out with an unnatural rigidity in his shoulders.
It took Fin nearly an hour after the captain’s departure to settle into a peaceful rhythm of prepping vegetables and shaping pastry. Yet with all the welcome of a mage at a witch’s wedding, the thought slammed into the cook’s mind all the same.
“Godsdamnit. It isn’t as though my mother will be interested anyway …” The redhead rubbed the back of his neck and focused on taking slow peaceful breaths.
He needed to think about the positives.
For one, the captain hadn’t known about his attendance at the ball. Another blessing was that no one had noticed Annika leaving the kitchen as far as he was aware.
So what if his mother wanted to pursue a relationship with … with …
Godsdamnit. Fin knew he had no right to feel protective or annoyed for his mother … but the idea that she could be at the mercy of someone who wasn’t only physically more powerful than her, but politically as well, perturbed him deeply.
Fin braced his hands against his worktable and hung his head.
I should just wait to see if she wants to meet with him. No use in getting worked up over eggs not even lain yet … Taking a fortifying breath, the cook brought back the image of Annika’s smile from earlier that morning.
He felt a grin of his own stretch across his face as he allowed the warmth of the memory to reach all the way to his toes.
Picking up his knife, Fin returned to work just in time to notice his familiar’s return.
Kraken strolled into the kitchen and peered up at his witch for a few moments peacefully before leaping up onto one of the chairs.
Lifting his gaze, Fin stared at the fast-growing kitten.
“Where have you been all night?” he asked airily, his mind drifting further from the captain, and instead deeper into pleasant thoughts.
“I hope my witch knows how much I’ve worked for his cause one day. It’d be nice if he … oh. Oh, he smells different today. Did he finally succeed in mating for kittens? I hope he remembers what happened to him this time. I swear, if I thought pooping on his bed would help, I’d—”
Fin reared back so quickly he nearly fell into the fire.
“DID YOU JUST TALK?!”
The feline stilled immediately.
“KRAKEN?!”
“… What is my witch on about? He couldn’t possibly have heard me. We haven’t ever been able to communicate before … I do hope that he isn’t going craz—”
“SON OF A MAGE!” Fin’s eyes were bulging out of his face. “YOU JUST TALKED ABOUT POOPING IN MY BED AND MAKING KITTENS AND, AND—”
Kraken’s ears flitted back.
“What in the … meow? Meow?” The cat turned his face partially away. Kraken stated the “meow” as a human would, making it all the more disturbing.
The redhead rounded the table and snatched up the cat, staring at him closely.
“This has to be a familiar thing … how does that make sense though?! We’ve barely been around each other lately, how could we have deepened our bond? Speak! What has happened?”
Kraken began to wriggle furiously in the redhead’s grasp.
“MEoooW!” The fluffy feline sounded even more unsure in the word as he repeated it.
“Speak, Godsdamnit! What in the hell is—”
The castle door opened as Kraken began sliding from the witch’s grasp. Distracted, Fin looked to the doorway to see Annika standing there stunned.
Fin stared at Annika.
Annika stared at Fin.
Kraken stared at Annika.
A pleasant shock ran through the witch, making him release the cat back onto the chair he had been seized from. Seeing his chance, the feline leapt away in the name of freedom.
“Wait! No! Kraken, get back here! Speak to me again! Son of a mage!”
“Meowmeowmeowmeow—ouch, Godsdamnit! Meowmeowmeowmeow-meow!” The feline raced out of the room, slightly stumbling over a sharp stone, and was loping across the castle lawn in a matter of seconds.
Annika was watching the entire scenario unfold wordlessly, an unreadable expression masking her face.
“It isn’t as crazy as it looks,” Fin protested awkwardly. He already knew it was exactly as crazy as it looked.
The lady stared at him for a long time before slowly walking over to the cook.
“Fin, have you been drinking?”
Annika’s morning …
Annika had barely had time to don her sleepwear before the dreaded maid her brother had placed in her presence as a spy rapped at her door.
Annika sat up, blinking wearily. She didn’t even have to feign her exhaustion.
Zuma entered and gazed at the viscountess for a moment longer than was appropriate before curtsying. “My lady, what would you like to wear to meet Earl Piereva?”
Annika felt her previously joyous mood disappear abruptly.
“I cannot see my brother this morning. I already have two meetings arranged by lunch. He can wait until tomorrow. I will try to visit him before supper,” Annika ground out flatly. She had never relished acting like a spoiled brat, but when it came to irritating Zuma, she found herself making all kinds of exceptions.
“The earl will be most displeased if—”
“Know your place, Zuma.” Annika turned a dark glare to the maid, who stared back with glittering hatred.
That was all Annika needed.
She stood and strode over to the woman, who curtsied only once she was standing toe-to-toe with her mistress.
“Do you know who you serve, Zuma?”
The woman didn’t answer immediately, and so Annika reached out and grasped the maid’s chin.
While she wasn’t inflicting harm, the woman still flinched.
“I work for you, my lady.” Zuma’s voice was too calm. Too controlled.
“I see. You serve me, yet you question my schedule and decisions. A servant I barely know, who is already disrespecting me, is pushing my brother’s agenda.” Annika’s eyes flashed.
Zuma felt her confidence sink as she realized that Lady Annika Jenoure was not an air-headed noble to be easily manipulated. She had to warn Earl Piereva that his sister could not be underestimated … that she was as vile and … as conniving as a …
“You’ve shown nothing but duplicity and insolence since becoming my maid. Go ask my brother if I will receive a gift credit for returning you.” The scorn dripped from Lady Jenoure’s words as her eyes darkened to blackness. A coldness that made Zuma shiver seeped through her skin.
“M-My lady, to refuse a gift such as my—”
“Again you challenge my judgment. Again you overestimate your importance.” Annika’s hand dropped from Zuma’s face as Clara silently entered the room.
“Very well, maid. I will do as you wish and treat you as one of my own servants. You will be confined in a cell until the earl leaves for Troivack. No one but myself will be allowed to visit you. Anyone who tries to defy this order will be treated as a spy against His Majesty King Norman Reyes.”
The Troivackian maid’s face paled.
She can’t be serious. She wouldn’t risk angering her brother. Even if she is more intelligent than he believes …
“Clara, please call for the guards.”
In a matter of moments, three Daxarian guards had received their orders and escorted Zuma to the dungeons.
Annika knew such a punishment would breed antagonistic gossip. The King of Daxaria was known for disapproving of nobles who abused their power—especially when it came to harsh punishments of the serving staff. A staff member being sent to the dungeons was nearly unheard of in the castle, and even outside the inner court in the homes of nobles it was deeply frowned upon.
Once the woman had been carted off, Annika prepared for her day, while pretending to not notice Clara’s expectant glances.
After she was washed and dressed, Annika turned toward the door, only to find Clara blocking her.
“Is there an issue?” the viscountess asked patiently, despite automatically recounting the number of knives she had hidden on her person.
“You did not come back to your chambers until this morning. Where were you?” Clara asked pointedly while examining Annika from head to toe.
“Not that it is any of your business, but I had an emergency at my estate in Austice. I have a special guest arriving this afternoon for the midday meal.”
Clara stared skeptically at her mistress before Annika grew impatient.
“I just punished someone for their disrespectful behavior, don’t make me do so again for consistency’s sake,” she snapped, before regaining control over herself. Exhaustion blended with anticipation is not a winning combination, Annika.
“Where are you heading to, mistress?” Clara’s tone was mild, despite her intention being far from it.
“I need to confirm the menu for my date with Lord Nam this afternoon,” Annika replied as she swept past Clara.
Once outside, Lady Jenoure proceeded down the corridor with her chin held high and her expression impenetrable. Her inner thoughts were a different matter entirely …
Godsdamnit, was it too soon to sleep together?! Should I ask him to forget all about last night and instead we slow things down? She nodded a greeting to Lord Gauva as she approached the staircase.
He could still have second thoughts. I jumped into this without a contingency plan, which is unlike me … this could go up in flames … Annika descended the stairs toward the banquet hall while passing several tired serving staff and nobles alike.
I jumped on any sign of hope from him, which was presumptuous. I was too desperate … Gods. What has become of me? I don’t even know him! Annika’s steps faltered as she realized that she was repeating one of the reasons Finlay hadn’t wanted to pursue their time together.
Entering the banquet hall, she barely registered the signs of the festivities that must have only wrapped up an hour or two before her arrival. There were still sleeping knights on the floors, food left out, spilled ale everywhere …
I’ll go see Fin. Annika turned toward the kitchens. I am a noblewoman simply seeking breakfast without wanting to deal with sticky floors and slurred greetings, she reasoned to herself as she turned down the east wing corridor.
It isn’t like it would be so strange if I should go and ask for a cup of, oh what was that beverage called again? Coffee? Or would I seem too desperate? What if I am being too cumbersome after our night together by returning only a couple of hours after we’ve parted?! Annika’s stomach began to twist in a way it never had before.
What if I become like some of the simpering women that wait day and night at the threshold for their lovers to return? Annika shuddered but didn’t stop her progression to the kitchens.
As she approached the kitchen door, a sensation of doom settled over her, and she paused.
No. Fin has been kind, respectful, and trusting of me. He is unique, clever, strong … Her heart was doubling its normal pace.
She needed to get a hold of herself again.
He is the man of my dreams, the man that I love … everything is wonderful.
Reclaiming her confidence, Annika pushed open the kitchen door—to find the redhead shouting at his cat.
“—Speak, Godsdamnit! What the hell is—”
They all stared at each other—when the cat was eventually released and ran away “meowing,” Annika continued staring at Fin. The only thought she found herself able to repeat in that moment was:
The man I love … the man of my dreams …