He blinked at me and raised his brows. “You lied about how much you cost? Hmm. I wouldn’t think a kitchen girl would risk blistering her hands over such a small matter.”
I didn’t want to explain that I’d just been indignant and forgotten about the blisters. “If wizards could force the truth out of folks, there wouldn’t be so much intrigue in the kingdom, would there?” I’d learned from serving the wizards’ guests that intrigue was a staple of the nobles. Someone was always plotting against someone else.
Ronan nodded, impressed. “You’re a bright girl. It takes most apprentices weeks to figure that out.”
Apparently, the truth incantation was one of the tricks the older apprentices played on the newer. I wondered how many secrets new boys spilled before figuring out the incantation was a ruse. “How long did it take you?” I asked.
Instead of answering, he cleared his throat and gazed around the hedgerow. “If you really want to learn how to read, I suppose I could teach you—on one condition: You don’t pinch any of Quintal’s or Wolfson’s books.”
“Very well,” I said because I knew I could lie without my fingers blistering.
That was the start of our friendship. I expected we would always have to keep our meetings a secret. The wizards would never condone one of their own associating with a lowly kitchen maid. Especially not Ronan, their most promising pupil.
When I was twelve years old, Mage Wolfson summoned me to his receiving room. He’d never taken any notice of me before which meant I’d been caught doing something I oughtn’t. If the matter had been a complaint about my serving, he would’ve just told the housekeeper and she’d discipline me.
Something horrible was about to transpire. I just wasn’t sure how severely I’d be punished. Cook Lindon—no teller of fantastic tales—had said Mage Wolfson kept a wolf, and he’d magicked the creature to be as large as a lion. If you were a thief, Mage Wolfson turned you into a fawn and let his pet rip you into pieces and devour you.
I took mincing steps into the wizard’s receiving room, hands trembling like branches in the wind. I’d never been inside this room before. A two-story stone fireplace spread out against the back wall. The stones around the hearth and mantel had either been carved or magicked into the shapes of prowling wolves. Vicious, snarling creatures. An enormous wooden desk stood in the middle of the room, covered with books, parchments, and small boxes that housed a number of oddities—feathers, branches, things that looked suspiciously like bones.
My gaze stopped on the wizard sitting behind his desk. Mage Wolfson had a hooked nose, dark hair, and an overgrown beard that sharpened into a point. His expression was cold anddisapproving. This was his usual countenance so it gave me no clues as to how severe my punishment would be.
He cast me a glance, then his gaze went to the other side of the room where Ronan stood, stock-still and wide-eyed.
Ronan. This was about our friendship.
The wizard got to his feet and ambled around the desk. His black robe swept across the floor like night itself. “You taught her how to read?”
He knew that too? Ronan gulped and pressed his lips together.
The wizard picked up a strip of dried clay from his desk. Ronan and I used clay to pass messages to each other, rewetting it to erase our letters. My writing was on the strip.
Mage Wolfson gripped the clay. “Is this why you’ve fallen behind on your lessons?”
“No,” Ronan stammered. “That isn’t it.”
“Then why have you turned in so little of late?” Mage Wolfson threw the clay onto his desk where it shattered into skittering pieces.
I winced at the noise and wanted to cry.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Ronan’s chin dropped in a sign of penitence. “I’ve had trouble finishing the writing, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the principles.” His chin lifted again. “You know I master those well enough.”
The wizard put his hands behind his back and rocked on the heels of his pointed shoes. “You haven’t mastered nearly enough. You suppose because magic comes easily to you, you’ve nothing to learn. You think your teachers are relics whose wisdom you can ignore.”
Mage Wolfson’s eyes snapped to me so suddenly that I drew in a breath and gripped the sides of my skirt. He stared at me, considering me like a cloth to be measured and cut. My fate wasin that gaze, my sentence ready to be declared. I was certain I would never see Ronan again.
Mage Wolfson returned his attention to Ronan and his voice calmed. “You have trouble studying with the other apprentices. Perhaps you need a different sort of study companion.” He gestured to me, as though presenting a gift. “You seem to like writing to her. If she can help you finish your lessons, she can take a break from her duties in the kitchen and help you study. If not, she’ll go back to scouring pots.”
I didn’t see Ronan’s response to this edict because I was too busy gawking at the wizard in stunned surprise. I’d always thought him a harsh, horrible old man, and yet he’d just plucked me from kitchen drudgery and given me a position so sweet I hadn’t even thought to hope for it. I could spend more time with Ronan, more time with books, all with Mage Wolfson’s approval.
Had the wizard been the approachable sort, I would’ve rushed over and kissed his hand. Instead, I turned to Ronan expectantly. Surely, he would approve of such an unexpected boon.
He still stood as straight as a sword, staring at the wizard. Cautious and perhaps a little offended.
“Well,” the wizard said, already making his way back to his seat, “take her to your chamber and start on your work. I’ll check it nightly.” He smiled as he spoke, but still didn’t manage to look kindly. Perhaps the stern lines of the wizard’s face were incapable of forming a kindly expression. He had little practice at that gesture.
I didn’t ponder his motives. I was busy rejoicing in my good fortune.
Ronan’s chamberwas a small room with not much more than a fireplace and a desk to keep his rickety bed company. Several shelves stood over his desk, filled with scrolls, jars of all sizes, and items used for spells. A wizard’s clock sat on his desk, a disc with shadows that swept over its face to tell the time.