Page 16 of The Mage's Rake
“Whispers been reaching my ears all morning.” The elderly Crone hobbled about and threw a narrow piece of wood onto the fire. “A knight and the High Mage of Rimefrost come down to Lower Rime themselves! Imagine that! And here you are. You must have some kind of reason to be knocking up the doors of our humble abodes.”
Damn.The old molly was sharp. I had to give her that. I thought about Hugh’s chest still beneath my hands, frozen as if in death. And Landis, lying unconscious in the lodge. I didn’t want to tell her too much, preferably nothing.
“It’s a matter of utmost discretion,” I said softly. “You see… Hugh is, well, he’s my lover.”
Hugh, coming in the door, dropped his mitts.
Chapter 7
Hugh
Fighting to keep my poise, I smoothly picked up my mitts, shook off my boots, and then slowly sauntered over to Alan. Alan, who looked over at me with wide violet eyes behind his steamed-up spectacles, had a total air of innocence, even as those thin, pale lips mouthed a pack of lies. I suppressed a snort and instead allowed myself to relax and shoot him a flirty gaze. My hand ran along his back and up to his shoulder, drawing him into a side embrace, before I whispered throatily in his white ear.
“What nonsense are you telling the poor molly, dear?” I asked smoothly.
My tan fingers rose to caress the pale tan of his smooth chin before I leaned in to steal a soft kiss from him. Alan stiffened but kept the fond smile plastered on his narrow face. I gazed into those heated violet eyes and noted the cool, unimpressed look he was giving me before turning back to the Crone.
“You must forgive us,” Alan said with a light laugh that sounded as false as a wooden leg. “It’s been a fairly new… thing for us.”
Thing?He was calling whatever he was alluding to as “a thing”?
“A mild flirtation that got out of hand, surely,” I said easily, giving the Crone an easy wink. “He couldn’t take his hands off me. Very awkward.”
“Hm. Yes. Until your, er, problem arose,” Alan said demurely with a small cough. “Try as I might, even my Mightiest Elixir of Raising could not awaken—“
“Alright, dearest, I’m certain the Crone has no interest—“
“Oh. I’m interested,” the Crone cackled in amusement.
She beckoned to two stools. Alan and I hunkered down awkwardly as she handed out two very plain mugs of water chamomile tea. Sipping her own drink, the Crone looked at us with shrewd dark eyes.
“Perhaps you have some ideas—“ Alan began.
“I am more interested in why the High Mage of Rimefrost and the gallant Ser Starr, the King’s righthand tom, has come to visit my humble home,” she said. “Surely not to discuss some potion of virility. Gods know I’ve been kept fed thanks to a fair few frightened mamas intent on keeping their daughters barren for the season at court when Ser Starr comes to stay.”
“Dammit,” grunted Alan. “I was worried about that. If only you could keep it in your pants, Hugh…”
“How was I supposed to know that the ladies of Rimefrost were seeking protection against the power of my seed?” I protested.
Yet, now I was curious.How many did visit the old Crone? Surely not that many?
“There were that… many?” I asked, trying to not sound too proud of my prowess and fame.
“You have no idea, do you?” Alan sighed.
The ancient Crone nodded in agreement. “That is the way of many a tom. Sowing their seed with little thought for the future. Until the day a kit ends up on their doorstep, and what happens next?”
“The girl is blamed, the kit is shuffled off—“
“No one is shuffling off my kits,” I said, horrified. “I hope they would come and tell me at least!”
“Would you marry the molly that got pregnant with your kit?” Alan asked curiously. He had removed his spectacles and was in the middle of drying the thick glass off, so the glint in his violet eyes was unmistakable.
“Of course!” I snapped, indignantly. “I’m a catkin of honor, I’ll have you know, Alan.”
Alan looked away and blushed. His ears flattened a little, clearly chastised, and he slowly nodded, putting his spectacles back on.
“Sorry, Hugh.” Alan turned back to the Crone. “I suppose then the cat is out of the bag. Ser Hugh and I are making inquiries about portions circulating on the undermarket, er, the black market.”
