I’m not sure my family will be able to tell the difference. None of them are familiar with magic or those who use it.
Trip remembered the way people had looked at him in that restaurant in Lagresh when he’d let his aura out. Even Grekka, a sorceress in her own right, had been affected, even drawn to him. Drawn to do as he asked. He didn’t want to have that effect on Rysha’s family. It seemed to be cheating to use his power that way, even if it would have felt natural to let his aura leak out. He was so used to repressing it that it wasn’t that hard to do so, but he did sometimes wonder what it would be like to simply let it out and walk around with it on full display all the time.
More voices came from the hallway, and Trip sensed Rysha’s father again, this time walking with a man who put him ill-at-ease. When the pair came into view, Rysha frowned, not recognizing the person at her father’s side. He was gray-haired and significantly shorter than her tall family members, only slightly over five and a half feet tall. He didn’t carry any obvious weapons, nor did he have the mien of a soldier or anyone dangerous. Yet Lord Ravenwood was definitely uncomfortable.
“We’ll be having a dinner guest,” he said, looking toward the hallway where Aunt Tadelay was returning, along with Rysha’s mother. “Another one. Lord Lockvale has come to discuss business with me after we eat.” He forced a smile.
Trip let his senses trickle toward the newcomer. This Lord Lockvale did not have any dragon blood and was easy enough to read, especially since one prominent thought simmered right at the surface. He hoped to obtain the Ravenwood estate for himself.
9
Dinner rolls, baked beans, and platters of several kinds of meat were passed up and down the time-polished cedar dining table where Rysha had shared countless meals with her family, both as a child and also later on, when she’d been studying at the university and had come home on the weekends. Only recently had she started to feel like a guest, or even a stranger, at the manor, coming home only once every month or two. Sometimes less, thanks to her parents’ tendency to harp on her military career.
Tonight, they were too busy asking polite but pointless questions to the gray-haired newcomer and stealing glances at Trip instead of mentioning the army. Rysha wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. Trip was being quiet, speaking only if someone asked him a question. He looked… not exactly miserable, but certainly uncomfortable. Far from the powerful sorcerer she’d gradually seen coming out over the last couple of months. Did she want him to look like a sorcerer here? Projecting his scylori? She didn’t know. It might cause even more trouble than if her parents believed him a simple commoner.
Jhory had heard or read something, but Rysha couldn’t tell if anyone else knew—or believed—the rumors yet. Trip running into coat racks wasn’t likely to make people believe he was a supremely powerful being directly descended from a dragon.
“What brings you to our home tonight, Lord Lockvale?” Aunt Tadelay asked. “I’ve run into you at social gatherings before, I believe. You do property surveys for the kingdom, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, my lady. I’m visiting folks in the area, making sure everyone is doing well. There have been reports of dragons in this part of the country, as you may know.”
“And that’s part of your job as a surveyor?”
“As a concerned Iskandian subject and nobleman, certainly.” The man had a gray mustache to match his gray hair, and a greasy smile that put Rysha on edge.
She couldn’t remember having ever met him at social gatherings or otherwise, though the family name was familiar. She didn’t like that Father had been even more tense since his arrival.
“It’s remarkable that you have so much time to worry about others,” Tadelay said. “I’d heard that your family was having some trouble, due to some debts your father failed to pay off before his passing.”
“Oh no, nothing serious, my lady.” Lockvale waved a dismissive hand. “It’s true we sold some of our lands a few years ago, but only because it was a burden to maintain them, not because we were impoverished or anything of the sort. How ludicrous to contemplate.”
“Hm.”
“Tadelay,” Rysha’s mother whispered. “You of all people should know it’s improper to discuss finances at the dinner table.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. Forgive me. I’ve had a glass or two already.” She waved to the red wine next to her plate, though it was full, and Rysha thought it had been for the whole night.
Trip? she asked, hoping he was monitoring her thoughts. She touched his thigh under the table to make sure.
He’d been watching the newcomer and her father, but he promptly responded, Yes?
Are you busy?
Being lectured for not sampling something from every dish and every wine bottle? Moderately so.
Er, is that Azarwrath?
Yes, he lives vicariously through me and my taste buds. What’s your question?
I wondered if you have any idea what this Lockvale is up to and why my aunt was carrying out beverages earlier.
So she could personally poison me, I imagine.
You drank the cranberry ale, and you’re still alive. Nothing was poisoned.
Are you sure? It had a funny taste.
That’s the secret ingredient. Lemongrass. I know the recipe since I used to make it with my grandmother as a girl. Rysha glanced toward the spot at the table where her grandmother had once sat. Family meals had been much more enjoyable with her here, especially since Rysha had joined the army. She’d always stood up for Rysha’s choice and had loved to bring up all news events and all gossip at the table, whether appropriate for dinner discussion or not.
Lemongrass? I don’t even know what that is.
A culinary and medicinal herb from Iskandia’s southern regions. The recipe calls for two stalks, bruised lightly, then cut into half inch pieces.
I think that’s what your aunt wants to do to me. Though she’s admittedly glowering at me less now that this Lord Lockvale has arrived. And yes, I have learned a few things. Do you want me to tell you here? Your mother is concerned that you’re touching my thigh under the table and gazing lustfully at me.
Lustfully? I’m looking at your knuckles, not your naked chest. Rysha did turn away and make a point of chatting with her brother on her other side, asking him how the wine business was doing.
“I heard the Swanvales are thinking of selling their timberlands,” Aunt Tadelay said, apropos of nothing, though the shrewd look she sent at Lockvale made Rysha suspect it was apropos of something.
Did she believe this man a part of some scheme? Something that could affect their family? What did Lockvale want to talk to her father about?
“There have been a lot of bandits about,” Lockvale said. “Perhaps they’re joining those people who are selling their land and turning to the safety of the city.”