“We’re not going to be here for a week,” Emily pointed out. “And while we’re in the room, they can’t rent it to anyone else.”
She leaned back and looked around the tiny room. It was cramped, barely large enough for two grown adults. The bed was hard and uncomfortable, the window nothing more than a tiny lattice, and the bathroom thoroughly unpleasant. Technically the bathroom had a shower, but she had a feeling that they’d get cleaner if they stood on the roof during a rainstorm. She’d cast a number of privacy wards before she’d felt comfortable enough to start undressing. She had slept in worse places, to be fair, but she hadn’t had to pay for them.
But it didn’t matter. It was the first time they’d been alone for months, and she intended to make the most of it.
She snuggled closer to Caleb. “We haven’t had a chance to talk properly,” she said, allowing him to wrap an arm around her. “Are you all right? I mean, after Casper…”
“He was my brother,” Caleb said, reflectively. “Casper…could be a terrible prat, at times. He didn’t think much of me – I think he thought I was an embarrassment. But he was still my older brother. I never thought he’d die.”
His face softened, slightly. “But it was how he wanted to go,” he added. “He died a hero, and that’s how he will be remembered.”
“I would have died without him,” Emily pointed out, mildly.
Caleb grimaced. “I know.”
His voice was curiously flat. But then, she knew his culture didn’t regard manly tears as appropriate. She couldn’t recall seeing any men cry on the Nameless World, not even when Grandmaster Hasdrubal had been laid to rest. General Pollack hadn’t cried when he’d heard the news, certainly not in public. His military subordinates would have thought less of him if he had. He’d chosen to celebrate his son’s heroism instead.
I would have owed Casper my life, if he’d survived, Emily thought. Would it have balanced out, or would I have owed him a permanent debt?
“He did well,” she said. There were truths she’d already decided not to mention. Casper’s drinking, the possibility of suicide…it would only hurt Caleb and his family if that ever came out. “That’s something to remember, isn’t it?”
Caleb lifted himself up so he could look at her. “You don’t have any siblings, do you?”
“No,” Emily said, flatly. It was possible, she supposed, that her long-gone father had sired other children. But she hadn’t seen him since she was a baby. If he had, she didn’t know about them. She certainly hadn’t met them. “Why?”
“You can pick and choose your friends,” Caleb said. “Family…you don’t get to choose them.”
He sighed. “Casper was my brother.” There was a hint of pain in his voice, combined with something Emily didn’t care to identify. “And I will miss him.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said, quietly.
“He got what he wanted,” Caleb said. His voice hardened, although she wasn’t sure it was directed at her. “We need to remember that too.”
Emily nodded and changed the subject. “What did your mother say to you?”
“She promised dire retribution if she caught us doing anything under her roof,” Caleb said. “I wouldn’t dare sneak into your room.”
“Probably for the best,” Emily pointed out. “This isn’t Whitehall.”
Caleb laughed. “Mother would make a good teacher,” he said. He sounded more like his usual self. “No one would misbehave in her class.”
“I suppose not,” Emily said. Being taught by one’s mother, particularly in a packed classroom…it would be embarrassing. “Is she planning to teach?”
“I hope not,” Caleb said. “But Marian is going to school soon. Mother wouldn’t have to stay in the city, after that. She could take up a job somewhere else if she wanted.”
Emily lifted her eyebrows. “What does your mother do? Now, I mean.”
“She does some consulting work for the City Guard, I believe,” Caleb said. He didn’t sound particularly interested. “Mother is a trained Mediator with an unblemished record. But she chose to spend the last twenty years raising us.”
Emily nodded, slowly. Sienna had become a mother relatively young. She’d have time to go back to work for decades, or forge a whole new career, before she began her second retirement. It was fairly common among sorceresses, Emily had been told. Lady Barb was one of the very few exceptions.
Except she’s dating Sergeant Miles, she mused. And they could have children.
The thought cost her a pang. Lady Barb was the closest thing to a mother – a real mother – she had. And yet, it was selfish to expect her mentor to always be there. She couldn’t rely on the older woman indefinitely. Sooner or later, she’d have to sink or swim on her own.
“You’re a long way away,” Caleb said, reaching out to touch her chin. He sounded as though he was only half-joking. “Come back to me?”
Emily had to smile, then sobered. “Your mother told me that you were now the Heir. What did she tell you?”
Caleb looked…pained, as if he was reluctant to talk. Emily waited, patiently. Lady Barb had told her that trying to drag answers out of men, particularly young men, only caused bad feelings. It might work, she’d warned, but it tended to weaken relationships. It was better to wait until the man was ready to talk.
“That I’d inherit the house and much of the family fortune,” Caleb said. “But we don’t have much of a fortune, so it may not matter that much.”
“The house would be worth a few hundred crowns,” Emily pointed out. “It’s in a good location, isn’t it?”
“If you happen to be a sorcerer,” Caleb said. “But you’re right – I wouldn’t have any trouble finding a buyer. The house isn’t really attuned to a specific bloodline.”
He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. “There’s a bit more to it than that.” He sounded as though he didn’t want to think about it. “If my parents die – if my mother dies, for anything magical – I’ll be in charge. I’ll have to supervise my siblings, make sure they marry well…”
Emily tensed. “You’d choose their husbands?”