respond to Ivy right now, and I don’t know when I was last at a loss.
It hit Siddoh then: Ivy’s father had been put under house arrest for crimes against the king, and Siddoh had been instrumental in sentencing and locking up the elder male. In spite of her father’s crimes, Ivy remained a trusted member of Thad’s staff, but the logic certainly followed that she would have her issues with Siddoh.
Perhaps that explained the sarcasm and the strange undercurrent of hostility. The just plain strangeness.
“I’m… all stocked on gauntlets. Thanks.” Strange. Unspeakably so. Siddoh turned toward the kitchen anyway, dying for a stronger drink than he’d find there. He was surprised when she followed, given her apparent aura of hostility. “Hungry?” He flipped the light on. Given the slights she perceived he’d committed against her family, the least Siddoh supposed he could do was make the young lady a meal.
“No, thank you.” Her body remained stiff and stilted, her eyes narrowed as if she were picturing his head above her mantel. Sure. In a way, he was the bad guy. Made sense.
He put the kettle on for tea without asking. Not many things a hot mug of tea wouldn’t fix. He’d bonded with Alexia over many a late-night cup of tea and good conversation. He stayed away from that newfangled electric kettle she used. Hell, if he could, he would do this over the fire pit in his backyard. Nothing like cooking outside. Modern kitchens were one thing Siddoh had never embraced. Or boxer shorts, for that matter. Dammit, his boys needed a snug fit.
“Have a seat.” He steered her toward one of the bistro chairs on his way across the kitchen.
“I’m not sure I’m in the mood for tea.”
“Well, then. If you followed me in here because you have devious plans to come after me with the cutlery, I suggest that big French chef knife. Maybe the meat cleaver.” He pulled out a box of something Alexia kept in the pantry called “Calm.” Highly ambitious claim for a tea to make, but what the hell. He tossed Ivy a fangy grin, the kind that often pissed folks off because it gave the impression that he wasn’t taking anything seriously. “I should warn you, though. I’m fast.”
This time he was rewarded with a weak smile on his return trip with his tea bags and Alexia’s gallon-sized jar of raw honey.
“I suppose I could have a cup of tea,” Ivy murmured. Letting her anger slip, she rested her cheek on her arm, showing her fatigue. Poor thing. Until tonight she’d always come off as so easygoing. Mellow. Was she like him? Always struggling to hide herself? Helping to run the royal estate had to be exhausting. And having her father in trouble with the king…
Siddoh shook his head. He found himself wondering inappropriately what she did for blood. Why such a beautiful female was single. She was young, but old enough to have been mated by now. Asking would be rude. Right? Right.
He threw the tea into two mugs, one with cow spots and one with a logo for some old show called The X-Files that Alexia loved. The mug said “I WANT TO BELIEVE.” Believe what ? Siddoh didn’t have a clue. He’d seen shit in his life, with his own two headlamps, that he didn’t want to fucking believe. If he could, he’d go into his brain and root that junk out with industrial bleach and a chisel. Forget about space aliens and hovercrafts.
“Here,” he said, after adding the water and honey, and settling across from her at the table. He gave her the mug with the cow spots. The side said “I udderly adore you,” and it always guaranteed a smile.
Bingo. He got a small smile, but still a smile. She sat up straighter, tapping the handle of her mug. “So what happened tonight? Will your uncle be okay?”
“It’s a good question.” In more ways than one. Siddoh’s gut said this all smelled like sabotage. Someone had dicked around with the estate’s magical barrier, and had done so deliberately on a night when Thad was away
It hit Siddoh then: Ivy’s father had been put under house arrest for crimes against the king, and Siddoh had been instrumental in sentencing and locking up the elder male. In spite of her father’s crimes, Ivy remained a trusted member of Thad’s staff, but the logic certainly followed that she would have her issues with Siddoh.
Perhaps that explained the sarcasm and the strange undercurrent of hostility. The just plain strangeness.
“I’m… all stocked on gauntlets. Thanks.” Strange. Unspeakably so. Siddoh turned toward the kitchen anyway, dying for a stronger drink than he’d find there. He was surprised when she followed, given her apparent aura of hostility. “Hungry?” He flipped the light on. Given the slights she perceived he’d committed against her family, the least Siddoh supposed he could do was make the young lady a meal.
“No, thank you.” Her body remained stiff and stilted, her eyes narrowed as if she were picturing his head above her mantel. Sure. In a way, he was the bad guy. Made sense.
He put the kettle on for tea without asking. Not many things a hot mug of tea wouldn’t fix. He’d bonded with Alexia over many a late-night cup of tea and good conversation. He stayed away from that newfangled electric kettle she used. Hell, if he could, he would do this over the fire pit in his backyard. Nothing like cooking outside. Modern kitchens were one thing Siddoh had never embraced. Or boxer shorts, for that matter. Dammit, his boys needed a snug fit.
“Have a seat.” He steered her toward one of the bistro chairs on his way across the kitchen.
“I’m not sure I’m in the mood for tea.”
“Well, then. If you followed me in here because you have devious plans to come after me with the cutlery, I suggest that big French chef knife. Maybe the meat cleaver.” He pulled out a box of something Alexia kept in the pantry called “Calm.” Highly ambitious claim for a tea to make, but what the hell. He tossed Ivy a fangy grin, the kind that often pissed folks off because it gave the impression that he wasn’t taking anything seriously. “I should warn you, though. I’m fast.”
This time he was rewarded with a weak smile on his return trip with his tea bags and Alexia’s gallon-sized jar of raw honey.
“I suppose I could have a cup of tea,” Ivy murmured. Letting her anger slip, she rested her cheek on her arm, showing her fatigue. Poor thing. Until tonight she’d always come off as so easygoing. Mellow. Was she like him? Always struggling to hide herself? Helping to run the royal estate had to be exhausting. And having her father in trouble with the king…
Siddoh shook his head. He found himself wondering inappropriately what she did for blood. Why such a beautiful female was single. She was young, but old enough to have been mated by now. Asking would be rude. Right? Right.
He threw the tea into two mugs, one with cow spots and one with a logo for some old show called The X-Files that Alexia loved. The mug said “I WANT TO BELIEVE.” Believe what ? Siddoh didn’t have a clue. He’d seen shit in his life, with his own two headlamps, that he didn’t want to fucking believe. If he could, he’d go into his brain and root that junk out with industrial bleach and a chisel. Forget about space aliens and hovercrafts.
“Here,” he said, after adding the water and honey, and settling across from her at the table. He gave her the mug with the cow spots. The side said “I udderly adore you,” and it always guaranteed a smile.
Bingo. He got a small smile, but still a smile. She sat up straighter, tapping the handle of her mug. “So what happened tonight? Will your uncle be okay?”
“It’s a good question.” In more ways than one. Siddoh’s gut said this all smelled like sabotage. Someone had dicked around with the estate’s magical barrier, and had done so deliberately on a night when Thad was away
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