Mine to Fear (Mine #3)(12)

“We're excited you're both joining us,” she replies.

“Thank you,” Tawny speaks up for the first time since we left Annabelle. Her good manners never fail, even when she most likely feels like keeping silent.

“You can unpack and come help in the kitchen when you're finished if you'd like. It'd give you both a chance to get to know the others.”

“We'll be there shortly.” Once she's gone, I ask Tawny, “What do you think so far?”

“She was nice.”

“Hopefully, the others are as well.”

“Annabelle is great at the very least. She's the one I'll be spending most of my time with anyway.”

“Remember to be really careful about how you do magic. Some women are aware they can do it, but that doesn't mean the council will let them.”

“Of course.”

Will the strides we're trying to make with these people ever be enough?





***





I'm so focused on Tawny and how she's taking everything and if she's giving anything away about who she is or the magic she can do. If only I had her skills when I was here, maybe I could have taught Cynthia something more useful. It doesn't matter. It's too late. Cynthia survived and won the tournament, even if she's now on the run. Thousands of Chardonians know about her and what she did, too many minds for the council to erase.

Mine feels erased. After all my wool gathering, all the servants are heading off to their duties. One of the other servant girls shows me my duties for the day and leaves me to clean the study while she goes off to accomplish her own chores.

I start with dusting the bookshelves, wishing I could pick up one of the books to read instead of cleaning them. Being Serena's maid was a lot more exciting than cleaning all the time. At least I usually had someone to chat with. I trace my finger down the spine of one of the books. It's unfamiliar, but the title is interesting. My fingers itch to pick it up and see if there's something good inside.

“What are you doing?” A harsh male voice demands.

I whirl around, my feather duster landing right on a warlock's chin.

He coughs and smacks it away. “You're supposed to be cleaning the room, not covering me in dirt.”

“I didn't know you were standing so close.” Not much of an apology but true.

“Excuse me? Did you just make an excuse instead of doing your job?” Now that he's smacking the dirt off his face, it easier to see his firm jaw line, golden brown eyes, and dark hair.

“Just letting you know why it happened. I don't usually greet strangers in such fashion.”

He wipes his face with a handkerchief before yanking the duster out of my hand. “Neither do I, but for you I'll make an exception since you haven't learned Chardonian ways. Do not address me so informally again. I may be a servant, but I'm still a warlock. You will treat me with the respect I deserve. Call me sir or Master Jack.”

Is he serious? This whiner deserves absolutely no respect.

“While you manage to stay in this position,” the tone of his voice implies it won't be for long, but Annabelle will surely keep us here as long as we'd like, “you will defer to me in all things.”

“All things?” Just who does he think he is?

“Are you daft? That's what I just stated.”

I shouldn't. Oh, I know I shouldn't. But I just can't help it. “Even picking out which stockings I'm going to wear for the day?”

For the briefest moment his face transforms, almost like he's about to smile, but before I've had time to decide if he really did, his face is an inch from mine, eyes narrowed. “Do not play games with me, girl.”

The playful spark catches fire, heat flaming my words. “I'm no girl, unless you're just a boy since we must be about the same age. Of course, the way you’re throwing a tantrum, it must be you never grew out of being a spoiled toddler.”

His mouth tightens into a firm, condemning line. “I won't hesitate hexing you if you step out of line.”

Though he doesn't move, it feels as if his weight is pressing into me, forcing me to back off. I refuse to budge, staring him down. Would Annabelle and the Councilman allow him such liberties? I doubt they'd be happy about it, but I've often been surprised in this country. No matter. It's a known fact now that women do magic. If he tries anything, he's going to get a surprise blasted back in his face that will have him ruing the day he ever looked my way.

Finally, he eases from my space, slowly though, like he wants his threat to linger long after he's gone. There's a threat that will linger all right. The threat of me hexing his hair purple and his nose and ear hair to grow to his shoulders.

When he's several feet from me, I feel like I can breathe again. Only the air isn't cool enough to douse my anger.

“Return to your work. When you're finished, go scrub the toilets and remember your place.” He strides toward the door.

“You're only a servant, too. Like you have room to talk about remembering my place.”

He swings toward me, eyes wild, and my magic pounds through me. “I am a Chardonian warlock. I may be working to keep my family out of debt, but I am nothing, nothing, like you.”