Page 81 of Fate

He settled back into his seat, his expression blank. “I should not like to say.”

Vandran tapped his finger against his cup. “Then I shall clarify what you will not. I did not want to assess her as your father would have done. I did not need to judge her quality. She is your mate, and that comes before else. Correcting her in front of a stranger is hurtful, did you know? I imagine it was common for you to witness in your younger years. It will not win you any affection, of that you may be certain.”

Lucian’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. “I thought we were going to discuss the terms of my employ.”

Vandran nodded slowly. “We are. But more than anything, I’d like to be certain you are of better stock than your progenitor.” His attention drifted toward Firen. “I hold no great fondness for Oberon. He thinks my position is unearned. Not of the blood, yes? As if the old stories matter.”

She did not look at her mate. She thought Vandran was a better ally than she might have ever imagined, and she leanedforward slightly. “They keep saying that,” Firen encouraged. “I’m not the right blood. My family isn’t old enough.”

Vandran chuckled lowly, shaking his head. “Origins of our kind. Old histories. I’ve books on them, if you’d care to read them. Hardly shared any longer. Not exactly pleasant, especially when it does not speak well of some of our founders. Better just to move on.” He spared Lucian a quick glance. “Others do not agree.”

“I have no complaint about my mate’s blood,” Lucian interjected. “And I am not my father.”

Vandran’s eyes narrowed. “You will have children by her, then?”

Firen’s throat tightened, and embarrassment crept through her, despite her efforts not to let it. It was a common enough question, although usually endured after a fresh mating on first market days, when well-meaning elders came and fussed and tried to decide if a fledgling was already settling in to nest.

They hadn’t discussed it. She’d... assumed.

Which was a mistake, and she knew it. Their whole trouble was tangled expectations. Of saying little and presuming much. She looked at her mate, trying to read him. And if she tugged at the bond, it was with no actual intent at doing so. But he turned his head and met her eye, and she felt a push of comfort back toward her. It was all right. Those talks were personal. Would certainly not be happening here.

She took a breath and held it. “Vandran, she began, keeping her voice gentle. “I do not think I’m comfortable with such talk.”

Lucian reached for her hand and took it. “Your point is made,” he affirmed. “And I’ll not deny that my priorities have been on securing our future rather than adding in...” he hesitated. And for one horrid moment, she thought he meant to call their future family a complication. But he didn’t. “Anyone else.”

So he hadn’t been trying. It didn’t hurt. It made sense. He had plans. Promises he meant to keep. But it made her wonder what would be different when they both were ready. What the books meant about wanting and trying.

Her eyes drifted over the many books lining the room, but she doubted any of them could answer it for her.

She’d experience it, eventually. She ached inside and felt him soothing her through the bond. Keep calm. They would talk. No need to fret, not about this...

“Fair enough,” Vandran allowed. He set down his cup and reached for a sheet of paper. It had been lined with what was meant to be neat columns, but the ink had smudged and wavered in places, leaving a distinct slant to all of the work. “And I did not intend to make you uncomfortable,” he directed to her. “I only wish to know that he is as he claims to be. You are to be treated with all the respect you are due, not dallied with.”

Not used. To go willingly into her mate’s bed, only to find that he had no intentions of creating a family with her. She did not mind waiting—there was wisdom in it, for certain. But she wanted to know his feelings on the matter. To know if the delay was for a time, or for the whole of their mating.

There were some couples that went without, but it was inappropriate to ask if it was by design or be some physical impediment.

More that no one had warned her about. More talks that would be difficult, and she was so tired of that.

She pushed it all aside. Lodging. Employment. Those were what mattered at the moment.

“I’ve drawn up a chart,” Vandran continued, turning the paper about so they could both look at it. “These are your entitlements.” Lucian took it, but kept it angled so that she could read it as well. “What I should like to make clear, simply because I can, is that these were allotted to you from the beginningof your apprenticeship. Toallapprentices. That your father presumably did not make that known to you is...” Vandran picked up his cup again. “Unsurprising.”

There was a margin on salary. She did not know how many years Lucian had been apprenticed, but given his age, it must be at least his sixth cycle. Perhaps so far as his tenth if he started early. And if her figures were right, there should be enough for quite the comfortable living set aside.

If he’d had it.

Which the tightening of his jaw suggested he had not. His eyes skimmed over the page, his mouth forming a tight line as he continued to read. Quarters were supplied—and could be altered depending on where they needed to accommodate a mate or an entire family. Allowances for robes. For access to the Hall’s libraries.

“What cycle are you in?” Firen asked, not so quietly it was considered a whisper and rude to their host, but softly. Because it was an admission of more they had not discussed, and she did not know if that might embarrass him.

“I am in the middle of my ninth.”

Firen turned her head, feeling cold and uncertain. “And you were willing to start over?”

He met her eye, and it wasn’t a glare, but it was near to it. For questioning him? Or for doing it in front of Vandran? “Yes,” he answered simply. “If that was required of me.”

She wanted to say more. To speak to the unfairness if it all. To give a plea to Vandran and not have it bungle everything that was already too tangled and ridiculous to her.

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