“He says he has no time for women.” Ronan’s tone indicated he thought it more likely Mage Wolfson was too cantankerous to attract women. “He’s too busy for a family. He says all powerful wizards are.”
I, who’d lost my family, couldn’t understand such a thing. “Then I hope you are never a powerful wizard.”
I expected Ronan to agree with me. He had a brother and sister he hadn’t seen since he’d arrived two years ago. Instead, he said, “You shouldn’t gossip about Wolfson. If he hears you, he’ll be angry.”
How many times, I wondered, had Mage Wolfson been angry with Ronan and what had he done to him? As bad as the kitchen work was, at least I knew Cook Lindon cared for me. Along with her scoldings, she gave me the occasional word of encouragement and more than enough advice. She’d also savedme from the wrath of the head cook a time or two by doing one of my chores when I was dallying someplace.
I tucked my hands in my lap. “How should I help you study?” I didn’t want to shirk this important duty.
Ronan shrugged. “I don’t see how you can. You haven’t read any history or etiquette books, and you don’t know mathematics.”
“I’ll read your assignments and question you.”
He took an exceptionally large book from his shelf with the titleThe History of Aeradorand laid it on my lap. “This is volume one. I’m on volume two.”
“Oh.” I opened the book and squinted at the small writing that filled the page. “Your first questions won’t be for a while.”
“I’m sure Wolfson didn’t expect that of you.” Ronan paused, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been sometimes gloomy of late. I’m sure he just meant for your company to cheer me.” His spirits raised as he considered his own words. My presence wasn’t necessarily a punishment of any kind. “He gave Stewart his own horse for that reason.”
Stewart was seventeen, the second oldest apprentice. I’d seen him ride out on the black charger. A beautiful horse. One fit for a wizard.
“I can help cheer you,” I pronounced. “When you finish the day’s lessons, we can explore the forest. We’ll play chess, and I’ll teach you whittling. You’ll see, I’ll be much better than a horse.”
I’m not sure Ronan initially agreed about that. None of the apprentices had chided Stewart about getting a horse. Whenever the apprentices spotted us together, they commented on his lowborn associations and asked whether he helped me gut fish. While I was with Ronan, he bore their taunting as though he didn’t hear them. I loved him during those times.
Once, when I brought food to his mathematics class amid a test, Osborn, who was two years Ronan’s senior, leaned over andsaid, “There’s your scrawny little studymate. Perhaps she can tell you the answers.”
Ronan whispered back, “Perhaps when you earn the wizard’s favor, he’ll give you your own servant, and then you’ll have time enough to study.”
I forgave Ronan for that response. Iwasa servant. I hadn’t forgotten my place. And besides, when we were alone, he never treated me like I was lowborn. I was his best friend.
I read his books even though I found history dull and etiquette perplexing, all in an effort to help him.
For his part, he did his lessons quickly. In fact, after a few months, he grew so frustrated that memorizing incantations left so little time for our chess games that he sought out all sorts of spells and cobbled together one of his own making—an incantation that let him immediately recall any magical text he read.
His lessons took no time after that, and his chess game improved considerably. He beat me nearly every time.
The next two years passed away in the sort of happiness that comes only to those who don’t know how little control over the future they wield. We ought to have been more careful. We ought to have at least paid attention to see what happened to Stewart’s horse.
One day it disappeared, and Stewart never spoke of it again.
CHAPTER 4
When I was almost fifteen and Ronan nearly seventeen, things began to change between us. Ronan shared enough food with me that I’d stopped being thin and knobby long ago, but at that time I underwent a transformation in both figure and feature. The way the other apprentices eyed me, the way they spoke to me, all told of the difference.
Cook Lindon complained to the housekeeper that I was no longer a child and shouldn’t be unchaperoned with a young man. I didn’t appreciate her efforts to preserve my reputation. I’d no desire to return to scrubbing pots. But the fact that she thought I might tempt Ronan—who would have his pick of powerful noblemen’s daughters—was more proof of my alteration.
I knew it had happened. I just didn’t know if it was natural. Ronan had given me a few magical presents—a charm that kept my straw mattress free of bugs, a blanket magicked to keep me warm, and socks that always stayed dry. He’d also enchanted my boots so they made no sound when I walked. He and I snuck out of the castle at times, and he insisted I couldn’t be quiet otherwise.
He might have given me a beauty potion, and if he had, had he done it to fulfill my earlier desires, or had he done it to silence the other apprentices’ tauntings? It would be fitting revenge to make them jealous that the wizard had given him a beautiful girl to be his companion.
One day, after Ronan’s instruction with his teachers, I went to his room and found him at his desk writing a letter. Over the years, his shoulders had filled out as broad as a plow hand’s, but his features still had a patrician look—strong chin, straight nose, clear skin. His blue eyes were just as striking, and his black hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a leather string. He hadn’t decided whether to keep it shorter as was the style of the nobles or to grow it long like many wizards did, so he just kept it tied out of the way.
I sank down at the end of his bed with a thump. “Osborn told me I was fetching, but I wasn’t fetching anything.” Osborn was now the oldest apprentice, eighteen and nearly ready to take a job with one of the noble families. What puzzled me was that although it seemed like a slur on my servant status, he hadn’t said the words like an insult.
Ronan’s pen stopped its forward progress, and his eyes lifted to mine. “Did he?”
“What does it mean?”