Althea parted her lips as if to speak, but remained silent. Her eyes examined Luther’s face and body, taking in his garb, his manner, pose, and outfit. Her brown eyes studied him, traveling his face and body but never leaving him.
He tried to project an aura of innocence, which was so facetious that even a child could have seen through it.
“Was your father a philanderer?” Althea asked.
The servant at the doorway gasped, forcing Althea’s gaze to turn toward him. She returned it to Luther with a hint of silent accusation. If she meant the question as a verbal slap, it might have landed better if the servant hadn’t betrayed how ludicrous the notion was. Luther thought it was appropriate to take it as a joke. Otherwise, he might not be able to save her from the servants, who loved his father and cherished their memories of him.
“He was like a father to many,” Luther said. He warned her as delicately as he could. “But no. I am his only offspring. Was yours?” Luther asked, keeping his face grim, as if he might draw the longsword at his hip.
Althea stared at him open-mouthed, but then she looked behind her out the window, and Luther laughed. She turned back to him in confusion. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Lord Le Fey. It’s just that I saw a man who looked very much like you outside. On seeing you, I remembered he said that you were practically brothers and—”
“And you gave him this coin,” Luther said, withdrawing the coin from his pocket and presenting it to her. “To put Oakhoof in the stables. Do not worry, I told the stable master of his fondness for sugar cubes.”
Althea blinked, as if she didn’t believe what he was saying or how he knew. She recognized the coin, though, and was quick to connect the other clues he’d given her. Luther took pity on the poor woman, even if it meant ending his fun.
“You saw me,” Luther said, giving in to his more merciful nature. “After my training this morning, on my way inside from the gardens.”
“You told me you were a gardener,” Althea said, accusing him as she pointed her finger at him. “You had the filth to match.”
“No, you called me a gardener, and I allowed you to believe it,” Luther said. “I merely played along with your delusions. The dirt and sweat were from my daily training regimen, which helps me stay strong.”
“Did you trick me? Just to gloat? Was anything you said true?” Althea asked.
“Ah, that’s right. You wanted to know the nature of my character, my arcanum, and I gave you my answers,” Luther said. “I suppose I can’t prove that everything I said is true, but I believe it was.”
Althea sighed. “Such a fey answer. So you are a trickster then?” She scoffed. “I’m sure you’re nothing but a charlatan. I imagine your arcanum is nothing but illusions? Where is your dirt and beggar’s clothing now?”
“That’s hurtful,” Luther said. “I may be a trickster, but I am no charlatan. Nor am I a huckster. I’ve never hucks-ed in my life, and I never claimed to have skills I don’t have. You asked your questions, and I answered honestly, only without revealing who I was, since no one had introduced us. Now you know who I am. I must learn who you are.”
“I hope my ignorance amused you,” Althea said.
“A great deal, if you must know. It lifted my spirits tremendously,” Luther said.
Althea’s lips tightened into a firm, defensive line.
“Now it’s your turn,” Luther said. “Who are you, Lady Raphael? And what are you doing here so early?”
“I’m here to investigate your arcanum on behalf of the emperor,” Lady Raphael said. “To witness it with my own eyes and report.”
Luther raised both eyebrows. “Has he not trusted the reports he’s heard so far? I’m sure Duke Beaudivere and his household had much to say.”
“No,” Lady Althea said. “It’s been rumors, hearsay, and fantastical stories by the time news of you reached the emperor’s ears. Too many of the tales are impossible, yet some nugget of truth might persist. So he sent me.”
“And who are you that you have his trust?” Luther asked.
“His agent,” Althea answered.
Unlikely. To be in the emperor’s trust meant to be in his family. “One of his spouses?” Luther asked.
Althea made a disgusted face, which answered Luther before she spoke. “No.”
“One of the hopeful then?” Luther asked.
“I cannot and will not join the emperor’s union,” Althea said.
“But he trusts you enough to trust your word on my arcanum?” Luther asked.
“Yes,” Althea insisted.
“And you wish for a demonstration?” Luther asked.
“Yes,” Lady Althea said, her tone impatient.
“Can it wait until after breakfast?” Luther asked.
“What?” Althea asked, as if it were a nonsensical question. “No. I demand that you prove your arcanum, your multiple arcana to me, here and now. This instant.”
“You demand?” Luther asked, raising an eyebrow. “Let me see your seal. Your letters.”
“My what?” Althea asked.
“If you’re here on the emperor’s behalf, as you claim, then you must bear his seal. Do you not? A symbol of his authority?” Luther asked. “He didn’t send you here in an official capacity without the official paperwork?”
Althea narrowed her eyes. “You’re stalling.”
“I’m suggesting that if you’re here for official, imperial business, we might wait until after we eat,” Luther said. “But if it’s indeed a personal request, a favor for a lovely lady, then I’d be happy to show you whatever you wish to see.” He stepped closer to her as he said it. Althea’s forehead wrinkled above her eyes as he flowed from denying her to flirting with her in the space of a few words.
“What?” Althea asked.
“Are you asking because you’re an imperial agent here on a mission?” Luther asked. “Or is my arcanum personal to you? Why did you ride here with such impatience?”
“What suggests I’m impatient?” Althea asked.
Luther stared at her, waiting for her to see the answer for herself. “You know enough of me to realize I am not dumb, Lady Althea.” Everything she’d done this morning since waking had suggested her impatience. The questions she’d asked might align with an imperial agent investigating a person of interest to the emperor, but there was more to it. She might have waited until normal business hours to arrive and confront him. No, something else caused her to make demands while she was here as his guest.
“Show me your arcanum,” Althea said. “Now!”
“My, my, husband,” Rhosyn and Eira’s voices cut in from the entryway to the parlor as they, Helena, and Jowangshin stopped to stare at Althea. “What have you done to annoy our guest?”
“Ah, my wives have arrived,” Luther said. “Good to see you awake, Rhosyn.”
Rhosyn nodded, then turned her gaze to Althea, who was staring at her and her twin sister, Eira. Their speaking in unison was so common that Luther had forgotten how unnerving it could be for newcomers. Even he wasn’t sure if it was a spell of Rhosyn’s that allowed them to be so in sync, or if it was practice.
“Lady Althea Raphael, please allow me to introduce the lovely members of my union. Rhosyn, Eira, Helena, and Jowangshin.” Luther gestured to each as he said their name, and they curtsied.
“Please join us for breakfast,” Eira and Rhosyn said.
Althea looked at Luther as if he would answer for her.
“I think breakfast is a marvelous idea,” Luther said. “We need a good meal before we hit the road.”
“What?” Althea asked.
“Breakfast,” Luther said, as if explaining it. “It’s the first meal of the day. We prefer to enjoy it as a family before we begin the day’s work. Please join us.”
Althea frowned. “Fine.”
Helena raised an eyebrow.
“I mean, yes, thank you, that would be suitable,” Althea said. “And then, may I see your demonstration?”
Luther grinned. He nodded and gestured for the others to lead the way. The group left the parlor and traversed the hallway to the dining hall. Bacon, eggs, and toasted bread wafted to them from beneath covered dishes, where candles kept their food warm. Tall chairs surrounded the long, wide table in the center of the room. Servants waited in the corners near pitchers, and another of Luther’s guests sat three chairs away from the head of the table on the right side.
“Ah, there you are,” Emily said as they approached. “I worried you’d leave without eating.”
Even sitting, Emily was a short, dark-haired beauty not unlike the taller Althea. Her brunette locks were plain and unadorned, tied up in shiny red ribbons that matched those on her pale blue dress. The book she read at the table was worn at its edges.
“Oh, you have another guest,” Emily said, rising as she closed the book and put it aside. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
“Lady Althea Raphael, please allow me to introduce Miss Emily Burville,” Luther said, gesturing to each in turn.
“Burville?” Althea asked. “As in the late Lucas Burville?”
Emily swallowed, but nodded. “Yes,” she said. “He was my brother.”
Althea looked between Emily and Luther. “So the story is true?”
Luther and Emily shared a questioning expression before they both turned that question toward Althea.
“What story?” Helena asked as she stood behind the chair next to Emily.
“Well,” Althea hesitated, looking at Luther, then at Emily. “I don’t suppose if it were true you’d admit to it with him in the room.”
“What villainous atrocity have I committed against Miss Burville, according to the stories others tell?” Luther asked.
“I was told that you took Miss Burville as a spoil from your duel with her brother,” Althea said. “That you keep her here, never allowing her to leave the grounds, permitting her no suitors to prevent her vengeance against you. That you lock her up at night so that she cannot escape, and that she’ll never be free until she marries you.”
“And you believe such stories?” Luther asked, holding up his finger to prevent Emily from answering as she was about to speak.
“I didn’t. Not until I saw Miss Burville,” Althea said, turning her glare toward Luther. “I’m glad to see you at least allow her to eat at the table and not in a dungeon. You take good care of your captives, or so it seems.”
Helena, Jowangshin, Eira, and Rhosyn weren’t amused by Lady Althea’s stories as they prepared to take their seats. Luther raised his hand to signal them to let him respond before they did and took his time walking to his chair at the table’s head.
“Yes, Lady Althea,” Luther said, his voice dry, a tone everyone around him, except Lady Althea, recognized as humorous. “That raises the question: what are you doing out of the dungeon, Miss Burville?”
Emily frowned, unamused by his teasing. “Forgive Lord Le Fey,” she said to Lady Althea. “He has a twisted sense of humor. No, he didn’t take me as a spoil. Nor does he keep me here, and he has made no romantic overtures toward me. He has allowed me to grieve as I’ve needed and allowed me to live here. I take no suitors, not because Luther forbids them, but because I have no interest in them. He is my most gracious host, and to my knowledge has never locked me anywhere.”
“I could, if you wanted me to,” Luther said, teasing her. “A stay in the dungeon would give you peace for your reading. I hide there myself sometimes when too many requests pile up on my desk. It’s the one place Wulfric never looks.”
“I have enough of that in the library, thank you, my lord,” Emily said, grinning despite herself.
Lady Althea examined Luther, as if discerning whether Emily said that because it was true or because he was there. Yet the tension between him and Emily was not one of an enemy and her captor. Nor was she his captive. If anything, she was a guest who wouldn’t leave, but a welcome one. She was his librarian in residence, spending her time organizing his father’s library and keeping it tidy between long afternoons of reading.
“Of course,” Lady Althea said. “The tale I heard was unverified and inaccurate in its description of Lord Le Fey. Forgive me. I shouldn’t have indulged in such speculative and frivolous gossip.”
“Think no more of it,” Luther said, taking his seat as everyone else took theirs. “Let’s eat, and you can tell me what other stories you’ve heard of me, and what stories you’d like me to know of yourself, Lady Althea. I’m most curious to learn how someone becomes an agent of the emperor, and why he might be interested in me.”
The Le Fey clan shared several significant expressions among themselves. The familiar sensation of Rhosyn’s magic caressed his mind as she cast a silent spell and connected her mind to his, with his silent permission.
“She is from the emperor?” Rhosyn asked through the mental link, not speaking aloud.
“So she claims. She’s provided no evidence for it, but I have no reason to disbelieve her. She wants to know if my arcanum is genuine, but her purposes here are myriad, not singular, and whatever they are, they are personal.”
Luther pulled the cover off the dish before him, revealing a scramble of eggs, bacon, sausages, hashed potatoes, and beans.
Jowangshin led the prayer for the meal, and everyone began eating.
“So, Lady Althea,” Helena picked up the conversation. “Forgive my blunt question, but why are you here?”
“She’s come to verify my arcanum for the emperor,” Luther answered for her.
“Is that all?” Jo asked. “The temple has verified it.”
“That’s a fair point,” Luther said. “Was that not enough for the emperor?” he asked, reading Althea’s stern expression. “Or, was it not enough for you?”
She glared at Luther, still annoyed with him.
“Please, Lady Althea, I cannot help you if I don’t know how I can help. What is it that brought you to my door this early, as if it were an emergency? What makes it so personal to you that you must know whether the stories of my arcanum are true?”
“Is it true that, before your union, you believed you did not have an arcanum?” Althea asked, lifting her eyes to Luther’s, then looking away. She cast her eyes to her plate and kept them there, stirring the eggs with her fork despite their solidity.
Luther put the pieces together before his spouses. The emperor’s agent, a trusted individual, but with no chance of joining the emperor’s union. That made her an imperial family member, with a relation to at least one person in the emperor’s union. A sister-in-law might still join the union. So she must be a daughter, parent, or granddaughter. She was too young to be the emperor’s mother, though not too young to be the mother of one of his partners.
And one without an arcanum. She thought herself deficient until she heard the story of a man who thought he hadn’t had an arcana. A man who discovered that not only did he have one, but one of myth and legend, which he could only discover after forming a union. The temple’s rite bound their souls, and without that, he’d have never discovered his magical specialty. Such a union would never come Althea’s way if she were deficient and without power. Even Luther had to trick his way into such a match through a lie of omission.
“Tell me, Lady Althea,” Luther said. He chewed his eggs and swallowed the bite he’d taken. “Do you have any fey blood in your lineage?”
Althea shook her head. “No.”
“And your arcanum?” Luther asked. “You still don’t know what it is?”
Everyone’s attention whipped in Lady Althea’s direction, staring at the face she kept trying to hide, looking down as if she might curl in on herself and implode.
“How did you—” Althea started, then stopped herself. “My arcanum is not a matter for discussion. It’s yours that the emperor needs my testimony to determine.”
“Let me guess,” Luther said, eyeing her expression to see if he was correct. “You believed you didn’t have an arcanum. Then, you heard of mine, an arcanum that could only manifest after forging a union with another soul. And if it’s true for me, you believe it might just be true for you, too?” Luther asked.
Althea frowned, but sat back in her chair and lowered her fork to her plate. She took a deep breath before she answered, staring at Luther and ignoring everyone around them. “I–”