Chapter 11

Eleven

Turnedout Theon normally ate with everyone else. He didn’t do the whole lord-of-the-manor thing where he ate alone at a massive table, but instead usually shared a table with all of his knights. He’d eaten alone with me yesterday so as to not overwhelm me, which had been incredibly thoughtful of him. My father had always been the type to shun corporate dinners and only ate with other CEOs like himself. That kind of self-important pride was ugly. Seeing Theon treat others as his equals warmed me to him even more.

I sat next to him at the table in the big mess hall, which was meant for knights, but I think all the castle staff were here too. I recognized quite a few faces. With me at the table was Ara, Bailey (captain of the knights), Luk, and Mina. I’d gotten to know Luk and Mina quite well today, what with them either mock-attacking me or throwing me around. I had complete sympathy for a hacky sack right about now.

The mess hall boasted a vaulted ceiling, roughly twenty tables, bustling people fetching food from the buffet, overlapping conversations, and the sweet aroma of sizzling food in hot oil. Food tasted excellent, too.

Since I had some of the core people Theon had brought to the duchy all at one table, I decided to ask more questions. “What was this place like when you first came in?”

All of them sighed, heads dropping for a second.

“That bad, huh?”

“Place was in shambles.” Ara shook her head, pained at the memory. “Previous lords had been too busy escaping reality with gambling and addictions to manage their people or their property. The roof had actually caved in on part of the mess hall.”

“Yikes. That must have been fun to fix.” I kid you not, the ceiling in this room was a good forty feet up. Maybe fifty.

Ara flexed her fingers. “Lots of magic went into that. Lots. I spent four fucking days fixing that roof.”

“And then there was everything else.” Theon looked just as pained as his cousin. “Rats had taken over the pantry area, so we had to clean them out and remove a lot of the shelving because it was past saving.”

“If not for the fact we had two Fae to work their magic, we’d have been screwed,” Luk threw in while scraping a fork across his plate. “Not a lot of trees up this direction, with villagers constantly cutting them down for fields and firewood. We were cutting down trees almost as fast as these two could grow them.”

“I actually got angry about that.” Ara shook her head in amusement. “I was working so hard to grow these nice, straight trees, and I was sleep deprived as hell because of it. When people came at them with axes, I just about unleashed my fury on them. Fortunately, I was still sane enough to remember they were supposed to use my trees for building.”

“I wouldn’t go logging alone,” Luk muttered, winking at Ara to show he was mostly teasing. “I refused, you scared me so bad.”

“Ha. Yeah, I can see that. I was not reasonable in those days.”

“Was food a problem even then?” I really had no context for those early days.

“Even then,” Theon confirmed. He rubbed his face and released a tired sigh. “We’ve had better years, and worse years, but we can’t seem to get ahead for more than one winter.”

Ouch. That would explain the strain I saw in him sometimes.

Luk asked uncertainly, “You okay eating with all of us, Master Jake?”

Huh? Was that ever in question? “Oh, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh, well, I just got the impression you’re part of the aristocracy on your world.”

“What the ever-lovin’ hell did I do to give off that impression?”

Glances around the table and then everyone pointed at my hands.

What about my hands? They were attached to my wrists and helped me do things. What more did you expect from hands?

“No calluses,” Ara said succinctly. “And you’ve never had to defend yourself.”

Oh. Ohhhh. Actually, on a world like this? That would give the impression I was a pampered darling, wouldn’t it? “Uh, yeah, not the case. I admit I’m from a very wealthy family, but my world’s different. Not as inherently dangerous as this one, and our weapons are somewhat different too.”

Now I definitely had everyone’s attention.

“How different?” Luk pressed, eyes shining with anticipation.

Guys. Haaaaalp. How did I explain what a gun was to an audience who’d only ever seen one projectile weapon and that was a bow? Where did I even begin with that?

I sat there, trying to explain the concept of guns, all while eating too much delicious food, enjoying it all despite my struggles.

You know, I’d always seen family meals as a source of tension. My family dinners had been for show, or because my parents were manipulating us kids into doing something they wanted. No other purpose. Meals with my in-laws had basically been the same. This was the first time I’d ever experienced a meal with other people and an agenda wasn’t being pushed. I found myself smiling without realizing.

I could really get used to this.

After dinner,I shuffled back to my room and spent a majority of the evening thinking of songs, writing down strange-looking lyrics, and generally trying to prep better.

What I would not give for Google. Seriously, trying to think of lyrics was not working well. The harder I tried, the more stupid I felt.

Commentary from the peanut gallery—a.k.a. Coin—did not help matters.

It was midnight before I realized it. I almost called it quits and went to bed, but some part of me wanted to try casting. Like, really try, now that I had a better idea of what to sing. I might have been too focused on the lyrics earlier. With something written to reference, I could focus more on the feeling.

In theory.

In practice, I’d likely suck, but I had to attempt it. If nothing else, so I’d know what to practice. I was not doing it in this room. Theon’s bedroom was right next door, and I’d likely wake him up.

I slipped out and headed for the gardens. They were barren, of course, not much growing here except for a few vegetables. Even those looked to be struggling. Actually, those plants would give me something of a target. All right, veggies, let’s get some magic going.

That sounded so wrong, even in my head.

A voice piped up from my pocket. “Remember, from the diaphragm!”

I stopped dead on the sidewalk and aimed a glare at my right pocket. “You. I left you on the desk.”

Coin cackled like the demented basket case it was. “You can’t leave me behind. And there’s no fire to throw me into out here.”

A significant oversight on my part. I’d rectify that tomorrow. For now, I ignored it. Surely Fae magic had some kind of kryptonite. I’d figure out what that was tomorrow, fashion a box with it, and throw Coin in without the slightest remorse.

For now, I had some practicing to do.

This time, I went with a Celine Dion song. Mainly because I could get the lyrics to mostly fit the tune, but also because Celine’s songs had a lot of power and volume in them, with extended notes. I figured that would be best for this kind of spellwork.

All right. Here goes nothing.

I looked at the paper in my hand and purposefully projected my voice.

“I want you to leave here, miasma, leave right now, I want you to leave here and not return.”

The feeling of the magic was like none other. It was a gentle vibration I felt from my heart, coming up through my chest and into my mouth as I sang. Like a warm drink on a cold night, it had that kind of heat and comfort to it. In front of my eyes, the wilting plants slowly straightened, the yellow color fading as a healthier hue took over. The more I sang, the more the plants perked up.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, stunned. “That worked!”

Coin oh-so-smugly singsonged, “Told you.”

You know what, I might not have a fire, but I had dirt on hand. I fished Coin out and leaned forward, jamming it into the dirt.

“What are you doing?!”

“With all the shit you’re talking, you might as well be fertilizer.” I pressed down harder. There, now it was buried and couldn’t talk to me.

I felt better already.

Okay, I had the feeling for it, which meant it was time to practice until it felt natural.

Well, and until I didn’t completely shut down when I had an audience.

I had to admit, that last part was the real kicker.