“Well, I suppose it means that as thick as Osborn is, he still manages to take note of some obvious things.”
“Are you going to tell me or not?”
Ronan laughed. He had an easy, open smile that only I ever saw. With the apprentices, he was cautious and reserved. With the other servants, he was imperious. It was part of a wizard’s job, after all, to be imperious. “Fetching means pretty. I’m surprised you don’t know the word.”
Oh. A compliment. Or probably one. With the apprentices, one could never be quite certain of their intent. “I only spendtime with you and Cook Lindon. Evidently, neither of you compliments me as much as you should.”
Ronan returned to his letter. “I will endeavor to be better in the future.”
The subject brought to mind the question I’d pondered. “Did you give me a beauty potion? Is that why I’ve become pretty?”
Another laugh. “No. You managed beauty all by yourself. Congratulations, you’ve proven magic is unnecessary to get what you want.”
I was glad my beauty was natural but at the same time, a bit sad Ronan hadn’t given it to me as a gift. It meant he didn’t care how I looked.
I suspected, even back then, that I was in love with him, but Cook Lindon said a young woman’s feelings changed with the seasons, and I supposed mine would eventually change too.
I must have scowled because he said, “I thought you wished to be beautiful.” He went back to writing. “Congratulations, you’ve also proven that it’s impossible for a girl to be content with what she wishes for.”
What I’d proven was I listened to Ronan’s opinion, and he’d warned me of the dangers of beauty. “I’m not discontent. My goal is still to catch the eye of some passing nobleman’s son who is both handsome and virtuous. Then we’ll fall in love and move to his manor, where I’ll happily give birth to five lovely children. But I won’t be ready to marry for several years and the wrong sorts of people might notice me first.”
“Hmm. We need more noblemen passing through the area. It might take a while to find one who’s virtuous.”
“I want to be pretty, just not yet.”
He shrugged. “You could try mucking out the pigsty more. That always puts me right off your prettiness.”
I had chores while Ronan was at classes and was frequently assigned that one. With the exception of Cook Lindon, the otherservants resented my elevation in the household and shunned me, but they didn’t dare be outright hostile. None wanted to risk Ronan’s displeasure—or worse, Mage Wolfson. He, after all, had given me to Ronan and showed no signs of changing the arrangement. Now, when the wizard passed me in the hallways, he looked me over with smug satisfaction.
I traced the lines of Ronan’s quilt with my fingers. “You could help me,” I said quietly.
“You think I have a spell that delays beauty until wealthy eligible men are around?”
“No, I meant you’ll know noblemen’s sons soon.” The apprentices generally found employment at the end of their eighteenth year, but with Ronan’s abilities, he would complete his training earlier. If it weren’t for Mage Wolfson’s and Mage Quintal’s pride, they would’ve already admitted they had little left to teach him. Ronan had not only mastered the required spells with amazing ease, he also had the enviable ability of being able to take parts of several different incantations and combine them to come up with new ones.
When Ronan left Docendum, powerful lords would compete for his services.
I shifted on the edge of the bed. “You could find a way to introduce me to some eligible men.”
One of his dark eyebrows quirked up. “A wizard and a matchmaker. My career possibilities are endless.”
“Matchmaking would be more entertaining than casting spells on horses so they run without tiring or magicking roads so they don’t wash away. Mage Wolfson must have a love potion spell somewhere.”
Ronan paused in his writing to send me a wry smile. “Like beauty, I doubt you’ll need a potion to provoke someone into loving you.”
A sweet sentiment but considering my station, one that was completely untrue. “Could you at least look for a love spell?”
“Trust me on this matter. If the other apprentices weren’t afraid of me, you’d find roses, daily, lining the kitchen.”
That didn’t mean anything. “Flowers cost wizards nothing—just like their flirtations. If I’m to escape the kitchen, I’ll have to find a wealthy husband. Besides, think of the fun you could have with a love potion. You could make the steward fall in love with himself.”
“Again, a potion isn’t necessary for that.”
I laughed and he smiled. That was perhaps my greatest contribution as his companion. I appreciated the wit he showed to no one else.
I picked up his pillow and tossed it at him. “I will die in a kitchen, kneading bread, and you won’t care. You’ll forget me as soon as you leave.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said with a smirk. “I have a memory spell. I remember everything of importance.”