Page 52 of The Mountain King
His mouth quirked. “You aren’t concerned about your reputation? You speak so freely.”
Kailigh frowned, annoyed. “I’m a grown-ass woman, a divorcee with three children. I don’t give a flying fu—”
Maddugh winced. “I see. Quite a practical attitude, though among my people you would be considered young. A debutante.”
He chose that word just to irritate her. Kailigh ignored it. “So, answer the questions you think I have.”
“Woman, I can’t read your mind.”
She snorted. “Where is your kitchen garden?”
He blinked, and took a minute to respond. “Ah… I can take you there. What do you want with the gardens?”
“I need some me time. We can talk later.”
* * *
She wrappedher eggs and meat in bread and Maddugh led her out of the castle and around the side. His home wasn’t overly large, three stories and maybe the width of a half block. She assumed the size was because he had live-in staff; otherwise, it would be the height of ridiculousness. Even if he was the richest man living outside of a city.
The size of the kitchen garden surprised her. It was smaller than it should be to feed the tally of people she estimated lived here. And the plants were… sad.
Kailigh picked her way through rows of greens, finding a spot to kneel for a closer examination.
“Who’s in charge of maintaining this?” she asked.
“The kitchen manager, I believe.”
His voice came from several feet away, so he hadn’t followed her on her survey.
She ran her finger through the soil, reaching out with senses deeper than mere touch. There was a reason her produce sold for a premium, and they had to guard it with guns. Leaving the household gardens unattended grated on her. She’d have to return soon and finish the task of gathering what she could to make preserves for sale. Maybe she could transplant some of the plants here. They could use it.
Kailigh released a small trickle of her power, knowing from experience that if she wasn’t careful, land as poorly tended as this would suck her dry.
“Your people aren’t gardeners, are they?” she asked, more rhetorical than anything, while she worked.
Her heart rate and breathing sped up as if she was jogging, and she gritted her teeth. The land wanted to soak in her energy, greedily, and she struggled not to allow that. Before her eyes, the sad rows of greens subtly unfurled, as if infused with moisture and nutrients.
Footsteps behind her. “Kailigh, what are you doing?”
Maddugh’s voice was the sharpest she’d ever heard it, the lazy amused arrogance gone. A puff of hot air on the back of her neck.
“Slow your roll,” she muttered. “Helping, not hurting.”
She had to close off the tap now. Kailigh wrenched her hands out of the soil, knees aching, throat dry.
“Kailigh.”
“I’m fine,” she said, registering strong arms that wrapped around her middle, hauling her to her feet.
“I can taste the magic in the air, your hair is crackling with it.”
She didn’t understand the tight anger in his tone. Kailigh turned. “Are you upset I fixed your vegetables?” She had no energy to mask the annoyance in her own tone.
His eyes clashed with hers. “You aren’t trained.”
Kailigh laughed. “I’m trained. Feeding three hungry girls is training enough.” She yanked out of his arms. Or tried.
“You didn’t tell me you could do this.”
