I turned and gave Torn a quizzical look. “Do you mind telling me how it is you’re so, uh, familiar with my boyfriend’s familiar?”
“My wife and I served the late Witch King, Lord Eben and his consort, Lady Lyra, for forty years,” Torn explained with a melancholy smile. “I was the butler; she was the cook. My own father had served the previous Witch King in the same capacity, as had his father before him, and his father before him—going back to the drowning of Kymera.
“In fact, I was born in the servants’ quarters on the third floor, back before it became unstable,” he said, gesturing to the stairs that led to the upper stories of the house. “Hana and I began our service as children, and we saw to the Royal Family until the day Lord Eben breathed his last. After that, Lady Syra pensioned us off and we moved into the Machen Arms. Today is the first time we’ve set foot in this house in twenty years.”
“Is Hexe, I mean, His Serenity at home?” Hana asked hopefully.
“He left just before you arrived. I’m afraid he had pressing business elsewhere,” Scratch replied.
“Let me show you and Hana where you’ll be staying,” Octavia said as she reached to take the carpetbag from Torn. “It’s the second bedroom off the stairs. . . .”
“That would be Lady Syra’s old room,” the old butler grunted, refusing to relinquish his grip on his luggage. “I know it well.”
As Octavia made sure her friends were settled in, I retreated to my room to change out of my work clothes. I tried to call Hexe on his cell, to let him know about our new houseguests, but it rolled straight to voice mail. I left a brief message, asking him to call me back ASAP, and then stripped down to my undies.
I turned sideways to inspect my silhouette in the mirror. I was just over three months along, and my lower abdomen was already swelling like a ripening fruit. I rested a hand on my stomach and gave it a little pat. I was still conflicted about advertising my pregnancy to the world at large, given the recent racial tensions in Golgotham, but there was only so much camouflage I could expect from my welder’s jumpsuit. Pretty soon everyone and his familiar was going to know I was carrying the Heir Apparent’s child simply by looking at me.
I found myself suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of dizziness and decided to stretch out on the bed for a couple of minutes. I must have been more tired than I realized, because the next thing I knew I was awakened by the smell of cooking.
My initial thought was that it was morning and that Hexe was once more making breakfast in the kitchen. Then I glanced at the bedside clock and realized it was still evening, albeit an hour or so later than when I first lay down. Feeling slightly disoriented, I put on a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt and headed downstairs.
Hana was in the kitchen, tending boiling pots and a sizzling skillet, while her husband busied himself setting the table in the dining room, each moving about their tasks as easily as if they were in their own home. The old woman smiled upon spotting me standing in the doorway.
“Did you have a nice nap, dear?” she asked pleasantly. “I checked in on you earlier and saw you were asleep—you must be exhausted after today, given your situation.” She glanced meaningfully at my shrouded midriff.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied. “But you didn’t have to do all this. . . .”
“It’s the least Torn and I can do,” she said as she retrieved a roasting pan from the oven. “You have been extremely good to us—I daresay you have shown far more kindness to us than any human ever has.”
“We’re not all like Chess,” I said with a wry smile. “Although I should point out that you don’t have to be a Kymeran for him to treat you shabbily.”
“Such an awful man!” Hana clucked her tongue in reproach. “Truly dreadful!”
“You should have let me curse him.”
Hana cast a disapproving glance at Torn, who was standing in the doorway of the dining room. “Things were bad enough already without us making it worse. Besides, he was probably wearing protective talismans strong enough to turn back every spell in the book. His type never set foot in Golgotham without loading themselves down with counter-charms.”
“I still should have tried,” Torn grunted. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
“You’ve never cursed anyone in your life.” Hana laughed as she kissed his cheek. “You’re not that kind of man; that’s why I married you.”
Torn’s normally taciturn demeanor melted away as he took his wife’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “And all this time I thought it was my good looks and chiseled abs.”
We took dinner that night in the formal dining room. Hana had whipped up an impressive four course meal from items I’d forgotten were even in the kitchen: creamed parsnips, butterscotch yams, braised kale, and roast caribou in blackberry sauce. Torn insisted on serving me, neatly depositing portions of each entrée onto my plate with the precision of a brain surgeon.
As I watched him at work, I was suddenly reminded of Clarence, my family’s butler. Clarence had been my friend and confidante throughout childhood, and the only adult in my young life that actively encouraged my artistic streak. I found myself wondering how he was doing, as he was getting on in years, and felt a surge of shame that I had not called him to tell him about the baby. I silently scolded myself for holding the fact my parents were his employers against him.
“You know, this is the first time I’ve ever taken a meal at this table,” Torn said as he sat down. “Back when Hana and I were in service, we normally ate in the kitchen.”
“It’s the first time I’ve eaten in here, as well,” I admitted, glancing up at the twin crystal chandeliers that dangled from the claws of a wrought-iron dragon mounted to the ceiling. “It always seemed a little bit much for just Hexe and me.”
“In the old days, Lord Eben and Lady Lyra took every meal in here,” Hana said wistfully. “Even toward the end, with Lord Eben bedridden, Lady Lyra still dined in this room.”
“Perhaps you could tell me what Hexe’s grandparents were like? He doesn’t really talk about them that much.”
“Lord Eben was what you would call Old School, nowadays,” Torn replied. “He believed in keeping faith with the traditions of our ancestors, and was often very stern in that regard when it came to his children. However, he was far more . . . progressive than his own father. Lord Jynx would have had Hexe smothered at birth and taken Lady Syra’s magic as punishment for daring to bring a half-caste child into the Royal Family.
“As for myself, I found Lord Eben to be a just man—strict at times, but fair-minded when it came to his rulings as justicar. He was particularly well regarded by the dwarven Thanes. As for Lady Lyra, she was a gracious, kindhearted woman. She’s the one who made sure Hana and I were properly pensioned off by the GoBOO. In the old days, retainers were paid out of the Royal Treasury—now we’re considered civil servants.”
“Did they love him?”
“Who? Hexe? They positively adored the boy!” Hana said with a laugh.
“Almost as much as they were ashamed of him,” Torn added sourly.
After dinner, Torn and Hana insisted on clearing the tables and doing the dishes. The two of them moved like a well-oiled machine, whisking away the plates without having to ask one another a single question. Not that there wasn’t plenty of communication going on between them—but it was done in the shorthand of the exchanged glance, which is unique to the deeply married.
At one point I announced that I was headed down to the basement to fetch a load of fresh towels and bed linens from the dryer. On my way back, I noticed that the kitchen was empty and all the dinner dishes washed and returned to their cabinets. As I reached the second floor landing, I saw that the door to Octavia’s room was shut, although I could hear the muted murmur of voices on the other side.