Page 66 of A Winding Wave of Magic
Gods. This was not a good pattern.
I cracked a few eggs into another bowl and started whisking them a bit faster than necessary. Jonathan smirked. He had done that a lot last night too. And if he did it one more time, I was going to chuck the can of baking soda at his face.
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t just approach me in Portland like a normal person,” I grumbled as I took the whistling kettle off the stove. “Or tell me your name in Boston.”
“If there’s enough hot water, I’d love a cup too,” Jonathan said, nodding at the box of Barry’s I had taken out of the cupboard. “And I doubt you’d have wanted to hear the things I had to say at that point. It was difficult enough trying to remain discreet when you were throwing yourself all over a fool wearing a ladies’ kerchief as a hat.”
Heat rose up my neck as I poured our tea. I couldn’t respond to that. I had been acting like an idiot in the bar, and probably last night too.
“Hence my original question,” Jonathan continued as he accepted his mug of tea. “Do you always drink like that? I was under the impression that seers generally don’t enjoy getting pissed. Or spending time in crowds.”
I sighed as I went back to mixing pancake batter. “We don’t. At least I don’t. Except, apparently, in extreme circumstances where I’ve just lost the only family I had. I’m sorry if I got a little out of hand last night. I was…overwhelmed.”
Jonathan waved away the apology and reached his arms above his head toward the open beamed ceiling. The stretch seemed to ripple from his toes up to his fingertips, and I was momentarily transfixed at the revelation of long, elegant muscles peeking from under his shirt and flexed through shoulder and arm, particularly where a small tattoo was drawn on the back of his right tricep—a circular wreath with a four-legged animal inside.
“Are you all right?”
I blinked and realized I had been staring. Again. “Um, yes, fine. What did you say?”
“I said I called this morning and ordered a rushed autopsy. Penny’s body will be sent to the mortuary in Seaside afterward, and her remains will be ready to pick up on Friday. The report will be available the week after that. In the meantime, I’llescort you to Seattle, and then to Ireland, if you choose.”
I sniffed. “Thank you. I’ll reimburse you from her estate, I suppose.”
“She already paid for everything.”
I nodded. Of course, she had. “Well, you don’t need to escort me anywhere. I’m honestly not sure I can even deal with my mother right now, especially since she couldn’t even be bothered to come here herself.”
Jonathan’s lips pressed together. It was clear he shared a similar opinion regarding Sybil’s absence but didn’t want to interfere.
“As for Ireland, I’m not sure I’m going there either,” I said as I removed a cast iron pan from the hanging rack.
That got his attention. “Cassandra, Penny specifically requested that I make sure you at least go to Ireland and contact the Connollys. Even if you decide not to train with Caitlin, you should at least know what you’re turning down.”
“Did it ever occur to you or my grandmother that I might have had other plans for my life?” I demanded as I spooned some batter onto the pan. It sizzled as it made contact, hissing against the hot iron. “I have a dissertation to defend, you know. And a job to start in June. I don’t know how it works in particle physics, but the Irish Studies job market isn’t exactly booming, so getting a tenure-track position is basically catching a unicorn. I’d be an idiot to walk away from that.”
“And you think inheriting one of the most coveted positions in the fae world is something to scoff at?” Jonathan stared at me like he couldn’t believe what I was saying. “You’ll just walk away from everything Penny did? Have you any clue how hard it was for her to protect you? How much she sacrificed to raise you here, safely away from everyone who tried to find her?”
“As it happens, I have absolutely no idea because she never told me a godsdamned thing!” I exploded.
I flipped a couple of pancakes. Burned. I swore, then tossed them into the garbage and turned off the stove. Screw the pancakes. I’d find something to eat in town.
Jonathan, however, hadn’t moved from his stool, where he was watching me fall apart with an expression that was half-resigned, half-annoyed. “You can’t ignore your birthright because you’re angry at a dead woman.”
“That’s incredibly insensitive. And you know what? Absolutely nothing in that letter indicated I had to jump up and move to Ireland right this moment. I don’t even manifest for four and a half more years. What’s the hurry?”
I can’t stay here, waiting around for you to?—”
“No one is asking you to hang around!” I exploded. “Why would you even want to? I promise you, I’m not that interesting. Not even a little bit.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He rubbed his forehead. “Cassandra, it’s what she wanted you to do, and you know it.”
I grabbed the scorched pan and tossed it into the sink, where it landed with a heavy clank. “You don’t know the first thing about what she wanted for me. Or for my mother. Do you know how I know this? Because neither of them ever mentionedyouin twenty-eight years.”
My jaw was shaking, and pressure was building behind my eyes. There were tears there. But nothing came out.
I tossed the spatula into the sink after the pan. “If you want something else to eat, you’ll need to find it yourself. I’m going for a surf and then to think. Alone.”
Jonathan worried his jaw back and forth, then slid off the stool. “I’ve intruded on your hospitality long enough. I’ll just wash up and go.”
