Page 94

“Let’s walk, shall we?” Jael tucked one arm behind his back and held the other out to direct her toward the trails that wound into the flower garden.

Anrid dipped her head and stepped to his side, leaving a space of two feet between them. He considered closing the distance but thought better of it.

The scent of mint and lavender greeted him as they left the revelry at the fountain behind. Anrid held out a hand and trailed her fingers over the leaves and flowers with a delicate touch. She kept her face averted so that it was impossible for him to catch her eye.

“I’ve spoken with my father about what to do,” he began at last.

She hummed a response but still refused to look at him.

Agitated, he pressed sweaty palms to the sides of his trousers. What had her so reticent? Was she nervous about the outcome of their discussions?

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, deciding to get the hardest subject out of the way first. “About—about Medda. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Anrid’s lips parted. “Oh, Jael. I-I never should have said the things I did. That wasn’t your fault.”

“No. You were right. I did lose my temper and that got her hurt.”

She studied him, expression grave but pained. His palms grew sweaty as he waited for her to respond, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t blame him forever. Just when he began to fear she would never answer, she sighed under her breath. “I don’t blame you, Jael.”

The weight of worlds eased from his shoulders. He could have cried from relief. “I’m still sorry. And I know she’s going to be okay: Teague and Kora will see to that, and you’ll be able to see her again soon…really soon.” He cut himself off and pressed shaking palms against his thighs. It was himself he was truly trying to convince.

Not her.

“I sure hope you’re right,” she murmured as they rounded a bend and passed a stand of dark green bushes with coral-hued berries. A teal dragonet fluttered about the berries, chirping excitedly.

“I do too.”

An awkward moment passed.

“So. Father finds himself in need of an Interim Minister of Goblin Affairs. The current Minister is hoping to retire soon, and they need someone to take charge of the orphans and their care: the distribution of supplies to the schools and the training of teachers to guide them. It was to be Kora’s job, but...I’m not sure when or if he will be up to the task.”

As the words spilled out of him, her eyebrows gradually rose higher and higher. She bit her lip in a confused manner. “Oh. Um. What’s to become of him? Of Kora, I mean.”

He set his lips together in a firm line. Of course, Kora would inspire her compassion too. “He’s to be punished for his actions,” was all he would say.

She lifted her face then, in blatant disapproval. He accepted the full force of her gaze, glad to finally have her attention.

“What he did cannot be ignored, Anrid. There had to be consequences. Surely you expected that.”

At first, she refused to concede. But he saw the resistance melt from her stiff shoulders, from her grim expression, until only weariness and sadness remained. “I did expect it. But I had hoped for mercy.”

He ached to reach for her, but he kept his palms tight against his legs. “My father showed mercy,” he murmured as he cut in front of her to halt beneath a small arbor. “Believe me. He showed a great deal of mercy.”

The narrow arbor forced them to stand close together, with a mere six inches between them. How his fingers itched to reach for hers! But first, there were things to discuss. “Ahem. Back to the position of the Minister. My father is inclined to offer you the position.”

She didn’t react to his words, not at first, her focus on the purple blooms sprouting from the verdant arbor trellis. But then her body stiffened, as if she had absorbed his words, and her gaze flew to his. “I beg your pardon? He wants me to do what?”

“Accept the position of Interim Minister of Goblin Affairs. You have a way with the children, Anrid, and a head for organization. You’d be perfect for the job.”

“But—but—I’m just a governess. I can’t work in a court, alongside—alongside nobility and educated people. I’m just—I’m just—”

“Perfect.” He breathed the word. “You’re perfect for it.”

“But where would I live, and what would I do, and what about the children? Where would they go? I don’t want to be separated from them. And I wanted to go to Nestra to collect Rig and Medda. I’m dying to know she’s all right—and my sister! I need to contact Dagmar and let her know where I am and—”

He caught her by the elbows then and tugged an inch closer to derail her frantic flurry of thoughts. “I’ve considered all that,” he said. “I really think this is for the best, Anrid. You’ll train here for a few weeks to get a grasp of how things work, but then you’ll be free to run your office from anywhere you want. I made that part of the terms.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.