I sensed their weapons were not intended to keep them safe on their travels.
“Mr. Ambrose Madigan,” the blond greeted Papa with a sharp smile. “It’s an honor to meet you. Allow me to introduce us. I’m Lennox Vesper, and this is my brother, Phelan.”
“You’re the Countess of Amarys’s sons,” my father said, and while he sounded polite, I heard the cold shift in his voice. “You’re also a long way from home and the luxuries of your court. What brings you to the border?”
Lennox was still smiling, but it was stretched far too wide, and he reminded me of a puppet in a child’s nightmare. “We’ve come to see Hereswith. To go as far as we can before stepping into the mountain duchy.”
“The mountain duchy is no more,” Papa said. “And Hereswith would have been better prepared if we had known of your visit.”
“Yes, well, it was a sudden change in plans,” said Lennox, and he glanced at his brother. Phelan was silent, but his eyes were on me, dark and inscrutable. On the gleam of weapons I wore at my hips.
“Come, then,” my father said, indicating the table, where Imonie had just finished setting down dinner platters. “Eat with us tonight. Refresh yourselves. You must indeed be weary from a long journey.”
“And we thank you for your generous hospitality, Mr. Madigan,” Lennox said, and unbuckled his belt, leaving his rapier by the door.
Phelan followed suit, but I was not about to shed my weapons, even if it went against all manners to partake in a meal armed. The four of us arrived at the table, and an awkward moment passed. The guests were to take their seats first, to lower themselves in gratitude, but the magicians were not sitting.
No, Phelan was staring at the meal that was spread between us, and Lennox was staring at me.
“Forgive me for asking, Miss Clementine,” Lennox drawled. “But do you always take part in a meal with weapons on your belt?”
“It depends on the night,” I replied. “And the company.”
Lennox laughed, a garish sound that instantly set me on edge. Like Mazarine’s laughter had. I felt my hands gripping the back of my chair, my knuckles draining white, and I wished I had let them knock on her door.
Phelan finally broke the tension. He drew back his chair, sitting with an elegance that was reminiscent of a waltz. My father and I waited for his brother to also relent, and then we were gathered at the table, ready to eat.
My stomach was wound in a knot, but I put a proper amount of food on my plate. Venison with currant jelly, rosemary potatoes, glazed carrots and beets, boiled eggs, and a cold salad of fruit and toasted nuts.
Imonie was pouring ginger beer in our glasses when Lennox sniffed his napkin, studied the water stains on his fork, and then cleared his throat.
“Do you mind if I cast a cantrip, Mr. Madigan?”
My father sounded wary. “What sort of spell is necessary during dinner?”
“To see what ingredients are in the food. I have a delicate disposition.”
I snorted, only to draw everyone’s attention. I raised my glass to them and drank, to hide the curl of my lips.
“Just eat the food, Lee,” Phelan murmured with a twinge of mortification.
“You should cast too, you know,” Lennox whispered in return, and that was when I realized why the magician wanted to sift through the food. He thought we had poisoned it, which was irrational, since my father and I were also eating from the same platters.
Papa came to a similar conclusion. “If you fear an upset stomach, don’t worry. We have plenty of herbs to calm it. If you fear poison . . . then let me reassure you, Mr. Lennox. It’s bad fortune to harm a guest under one’s roof, and I don’t intend on bringing terrible luck upon my household.”
“What a reassurance,” Lennox said, and he continued with his cantrip, searching the food on his plate and the ginger beer in his cup.
Imonie stood beside the china cabinet and watched with a flat expression. But her eyes shone like obsidian.
I forced myself to eat. I was sitting across from Phelan, and I noticed how he cut his meat into proper bites, how he handled his fork and knife. I made a point to be his opposite. My cutlery screeched against my plate, provoking winces from the men, and I put a hunk of meat in my mouth, my fork upside down.
Phelan watched in shock, as if he couldn’t believe my manners. Lennox looked disgusted.
I smiled as I chewed, close lipped and full of terrible thoughts.
My father cleared his throat. “May I ask how long the two of you plan to stay in Hereswith?”
“It could be a short visit,” Lennox said, dragging his disbelieving gaze from me. “But then again, we might decide to stay for a while.”
“Could you please provide me with the date you’ll be departing, then?” Papa continued, and from the corner of my eye, I saw his hand was trembling as he speared a potato with his fork.
“We have no definite date as of yet.” Lennox sounded smug. “But as it is the new moon . . . I was wondering what sort of nightmares haunt your town, Mr. Madigan. Are they indeed vicious, since you dwell so near the mountains and the accursed Seren Duchy? What sort of terrors stalk the streets on the darkest of nights?”
My father was silent. But he stared across the table at Lennox Vesper, and I felt the chill in the air. A chill that expressed how angry my father was, even as he secretly smoldered with a fever beneath the glamour.
“The nightmares are mine to keep, Mr. Lennox,” Papa said. “I’m the warden of Hereswith. These streets are mine to guard, these people mine to honor and protect. Despite your education and polished upbringing, you seem to have forgotten the most basic of laws and respect when it comes to the magic of dreams and guardianship.”
Lennox chuckled, reaching for his ginger beer. “I’ve not forgotten at all, Mr. Madigan. My memory is rather sharp, and I do nothing without thought.”
“Then let’s not dance around the bear,” I said, impatient. “What do you want?”
Lennox glanced at me, fair brow arched. “I believe that is something I need to discuss with your father, since he is the magician of Hereswith.”
Despite my confidence, I felt my cheeks flush from the way he made me sound of little consequence. As if I were no one and nothing important.
For one brief, terrifying moment, I imagined Lennox had come to ask my father for a partnership. To have the opportunity to be warden of Hereswith alongside Papa. To uproot and replace me. I knew from my brief upbringing in the capital that nearly all warden magicians took partners, because the collection of dreams was a cumbersome task and nightmares had the capability of being anything. It was always best to have someone guarding your back on the new moon, to grant you aid if a violent dream unfolded.
“My daughter is my partner and has vast knowledge of magic,” my father replied, as if he shared the same worry. My posture softened, relieved. Although I was not his partner yet. Only his apprentice. “Whatever you have to say to me can also be said to her.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Madigan,” said Lennox with a forced smile and a graceful motion of his hand. “I suppose there is no sense in delaying, since night has fallen.” But he glanced at his brother, as if seeking reassurance. Phelan was silent, staring into his goblet. He eventually lifted his eyes and nodded, and my dread rose, threatening to drown me.