Swallowing a groan, Morgan slumped against the windowsill. How swiftly joy turned to misery these days.

My lord, your timing is execrable.

A door opened behind him. “Sir?”

He bit back a curse. None of this was Rumm’s fault. “What is it?”

“A note’s arrived, sir. From Lady Martain.”

Venette? But this was the last day of the Garrick house party. What could she want? Turning, he held out his hand. Rumm crossed the floor and gave it to him, his face schooled more severely than ever.

“If I might ask, sir. His lordship?”

Morgan shrugged. “Ranmer’s with him.”

He cracked the seal on Venette’s note and flipped the folded paper open.

Come early to the meeting. I would have private words.

“Sir?” Ever alert, Rumm stepped forward. “Is there trouble?”

So. She’d abandoned the Garricks too. He closed his fingers on the note, crushing it. “No. Wait here for Ranmer’s instructions, Rumm. I must leave for the Hall.”

“Of course, sir,” Rumm murmured. “Was there anything else?”

Pausing at the door, Morgan half-turned his head. “Mage Lindin. How is she occupied?”

“She is tending the poultry,” Rumm said, after a moment. Every word was ice-laden with his disapproval of her lenient treatment. “Unsupervised. Sir.”

He gave the man a sharp look. “Mind yourself, Rumm. Prisoned here or not, Barl Lindin is still a mage.”

And that was cruel of him, reminding Rumm of his failing, but Rumm was crippled. A servant. He could never be permitted to place himself too high.

“Sir,” Rumm said again, properly subdued.

“I’ll be back later. You know where to send for me, should—” Morgan watched his fingers whiten on the door handle. “You know where to send.”

He’d planned on riding into Elvado for the afternoon’s Council meeting. Desperately needed the exercise and the solitude, but thanks to Venette he’d have to forgo the pleasure. Whatever she wanted it had better be important, or without compunction he’d take his fear and temper out on her.

After swallowing a hasty breakfast, he closed his eyes and reached out to Barl. And yes, there she was, surrounded by chickens. Glowing like a burning diamond. She’d promised not to hide from him again. It still amazed him that she could hide herself at all. Where had she sprung from, this fiery, potent young mage? Nothing in her bloodline so much as hinted at what she could do.

She is a mystery.

His mystery. After last night’s magework he had no intention of giving her up. He and Maris would reach an agreement. After all, Parnel Garrick’s fortunate daughter should be required to pay something for her imminent climb up the social ladder.

And if Maris refused to accept that, well…

But she will accept it. She has to. I will rule my own life.

Venette waylaid him in a Hall corridor, on his way to the Council chamber.