Page 10 of Wings of Frost and Fury
“My son has a legacy to live up to,” adds the father. “How is he supposed to fulfill his duties and bring honor to the family name when thatthingis dangling over his brow? It must be removed.”
“Oh dear… I’m afraid I don’t know how to do that. If I try, it could make things worse. You might end up with two of them.”
“Fuck,” Arnett says faintly.
“If this is some sort of scheme to get more money from us—” the father begins.
“No, I assure you it isn’t. I simply can’t reverse it—not safely, anyway.”
The valet speaks up. “Surely there’s something that can be done.”
“There’s a chance it will go away on its own, after a while.” I smile hopefully at him. “Some of the things I create justpoof! Vanish.”
“And you didn’t tell me this yesterday?” Arnett’s voice trembles with anger. “You didn’t warn me what a useless bitch you were?”
All the feigned regret disappears from my face, as all the levity and mercy drains from my heart. Only cold anger is left, and it must show in my expression, because the valet grips Arnett’s arm, and the father takes a step back.
I can see them making calculations, deciding that a skilled enchantress is dangerous enough, but an enraged one whose magic can go horribly, unexpectedly wrong is far worse.
“You’re welcome to stay here, if you abide by the terms of our agreement,” says the father nervously, his tone just shy of obsequious. “The hats are a wonderful idea, aren’t they, son?”
When Arnett doesn’t reply, his father jabs him with an elbow.
“Yes, a wonderful idea,” Arnett says flatly. “Forgive my outburst, enchantress.”
“Of course.” I give him a benevolent smile. “I’ll forgive your insolence, you forgive my incompetence, and we’ll all get along marvelously, don’t you think?”
“Indeed.” The father seems desperately eager to get away. “Son, you’ll accompany the enchantress to market this afternoon so you can choose the hats.”
Hours of shopping with the sulky lordling isn’t my idea of a good time, so I hasten to say, “Or I could select the hats myselfand have them delivered, if Arnett isn’t quite ready to walk around town with his new appendage.”
“Quite right. Good plan. Farewell then.” The father turns and strides quickly toward the carriage that waits at the end of the path.
“Good day to you,” says Arnett through clenched teeth, and he heads for the carriage as well.
The valet hesitates, looking me straight in the eyes. “I crave your mercy, Lady Thelise,” he says quietly. “The boy is like my own son.”
He knows or suspects that I can mitigate this issue, if not undo it entirely. I can see it in his eyes.
“Like your own son, eh?” I raise a brow. “I must say, I don’t think much of your handiwork raising him.”
His expression turns downcast. “I did what I could. My influence is limited. I can only hope that once he gains a bit more maturity, he will begin to heed some of the precepts I have tried to instill in him.”
Against my better judgment, I start to fuckingpityboth him and the young man. Ugh. How do I still feel mercy for these people? I must work on being more callous.
I purse my lips thoughtfully. “I do have another hair belonging to Arnett. I will do you this favor and lay a second spell over the first. When Arnett learns to value a woman’s pleasure above his own, and brings her to climax first using what he currently possesses, then the cock on his head will disappear. He will have only the miniscule one he was born with. Hopefully by then he will have learned to appreciate it. Good day.”
I close the door before the valet can reply.
As soon as I hear their carriage rolling away, I head to the stable and take my trunk off the cart.
“Lucky girl, you get to enjoy this place a little longer,” I tell Vedra. She only chuffs at me.
When I’ve finished unpacking, I lead Vedra out to the fenced pasture, beyond which lies a huge old stable that apparently used to house many horses. It has fallen into disrepair, and it’s much too far from the cottage to use regularly, so I don’t walk that way often. The first time I went inside, shortly after I rented the place, I discovered that all the stalls had been gutted. Only the necessary structural beams were left, along with a scattering of dusty straw across the bare floor.
Its desolation gave me an idea for its use, and now it serves as a point of retreat, a backup plan, a storage area for some extra magical supplies, and a staging location in case any unsavory characters decide to come after me. Over the years I’ve made my share of enemies, some of whom would love to have their revenge. In addition, I’ve encountered the emissaries of two different foreign lords who weren’t put off by my history of magical malpractice and thought I could still be of use to them, whether I came along willingly or not. They regretted their choices deeply when I was done with them.
On the off chance any such people approach me again, I’ve laid enchantments on the larger barn, spells that can be activated quickly to protect me or to entrap someone else, depending on my needs.
