“Wheedler,” his father muttered, snatching his hand away. “Very well. She can stay. But whatever strife she causes, I’ll hold you accountable. And make sure to tell Rumm he’s to bring me my trays. I don’t like pert young women who answer me back.”

“I shall, my lord,” he said, standing. “Thank you.”

“If you want to thank me,” his father retorted, “you can speak of young women more to my taste. How soon before I’m to call the Garrick girl daughter?”

Maris. Not wanting his father to see his distaste, Morgan wandered back to the window. “Soon enough, my lord.”

“Sooner than that,” said his father. “And don’t let your eye stray in any other direction.”

He glanced behind him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do!” Again, his father slapped the arm of his chair. “You’re not blind, Morgan, any more than I am. That Barl Lindin’s beautiful. And what you do after you’ve got yourself a son on the Garrick girl will be no business of mine, seeing as how I’ll be dead by then. But you’ll not dip your wick in that pert girl’s honeypot until there’s a Danfey to follow you. Is that clear?”

If he lost his temper, Barl would be sent back to the Council for Sallis Arkley to deal with. He could not, would not, let that happen.

“You’ve nothing to fear, my lord. The girl might be attractive, but my interest is fixed on Maris Garrick.”

Slowly, his father relaxed. “Good.”

“Now I’m afraid I must excuse myself. I have another Council matter to address, and then I would spend some time in my workroom. Shall we dine together this evening, or do you prefer to dine alone?”

“You should dine with Maris Garrick,” his father said, scowling. “You shouldn’t be letting her out of your sight.”

Without thinking, without blinking, he lied. “Alas, my lord, Maris is otherwise engaged this evening. A family affair,” he added, when his father’s eyes widened with alarm. “But I shall see her again soon. Can I fetch you a book before I go?”

“Feeble I might be, but I can fetch my own book,” his father said, offended. “Be off. And mind you tell Rumm what I said!”

He crossed paths with the master servant on the staircase. “Sir. I was just coming to find you.” Rumm held out a folded note. “From the Council.”

Morgan slid it unread inside his tunic. “Lord Danfey prefers not to be waited on by Mage Lindin.”

Rumm nodded. “Very good, sir.”

“By the way, is there a reason you have her toiling with the poultry?”

“An excellent reason, sir,” said Rumm, his face darkening. “Do you object?”

Of course, but it would be unwise to say so. “I was merely curious. I have business with Lady Martain. Expect me back within the hour.”

“Yes, sir.”