Page 11 of A Honeymoon of Grave Consequence (The Unexpected Adventures of Lady and Lord Riven #2)
Ten minutes later, all the inn’s guests were crowded around Margaret’s collection of maps, spread out across multiple unused dining tables, while the inn’s owner, Herr von Krallemann, trotted off to retrieve his own most trusted map from his private chambers.
He returned soon afterwards with the map hanging neatly from his teeth, and he rose to his large and furry hindfeet to drop it onto an empty table, where Margaret received it with gratitude.
None of the others knew exactly which lakes Herr Fischer had flown over, but they all knew the surrounding forest to one degree or another, and they bickered companionably over small details as he searched each map with quivering intensity.
Herr Schneider stood a few feet back, assisting the search by playing a soft, humming tune on his soul pipe that felt both unobtrusive and infectiously energizing.
Even their spectral host came to hover over the others, humming worriedly in the background, while the kobold cook stood on a stool to inspect one of Margaret’s maps.
“ That was definitely drawn by a foreigner,” Konrad said, shaking his head over it. “None of these names are right! He clearly misheard whichever poor soul tried to help him. Did he even speak our language?”
“Knowing that particular explorer...probably not,” Margaret said ruefully.
“My parents told stories of far too many adventurers like him.” Their remembered disdain for such ignorance was part of why she had worked so hard on her own language acquisition over the years, even when it had seemed most unlikely that she would ever again manage to travel beyond Britain’s borders.
“I’m fortunate to have all of your assistance now.
Would you feel comfortable making corrections on it for me? I can retrieve my fountain pen...”
“No need.” Reaching into his thick, dark mop of hair, Konrad produced a thick pencil from behind his ear and began to scribble notes onto the paper before him, muttering cheerfully to himself about the foolishness of tourists.
His observations were overpowered by a sudden half-cry, half-caw of discovery from Herr Fischer.
“ Ah !” He’d been standing by Leonie with their heads bent together, but now he straightened with the first true smile Margaret had seen on his thin, sharp-boned face. “This one. Best reflections by far.”
“The Diamantensee?” Margaret followed the direction of his pointing forefinger to the new name that Konrad had just added to the map, replacing an incorrect earlier label. “‘Lake of diamonds’—oh, that does make sense now, doesn’t it? It isn’t the largest of the nearby lakes...”
“It has by far the most nixen, though,” Olga commented from the nearby table where she’d been inspecting a different map.
“You’ll have to avoid irritating them if you visit.
A fool of a local noblewoman hired builders a few years ago to create an excursion base on the banks of the Diamantensee for bored and wealthy humans, thinking to make herself a fortune.
Every boat was capsized, swimmers were tangled and trapped in the weeds, and at least six drownings happened before the scheme was finally given up for good. ”
“I’ll try not to intrude too much upon their home.
” Margaret could hardly blame the nixen for banning such invasive visitors.
They might be shapeshifters, identifiable only by the damp skirts of their clothes and their unmistakable slit ears when they assumed human forms, but for reasons that still mystified scholars, no nixe could travel further than a few miles’ radius from their lake or river of origin.
The worst possible outcome for any of them would be noisy boats and tourists disrupting the still waters of their home.
“Don’t bring any men with you, either,” Olga warned. “The nixen have learned not to trust them over the centuries. Any male visitors won’t be offered the benefit of the doubt anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Leonie asked, with perfect innocence.
Margaret and Olga shared a long look of pained understanding that encompassed all the most vicious human myths about the “irresistible allure” of nixe maidens and their treasure—and then Margaret said, “That won’t be an issue regardless.
I’ll make my journey during the day, while my husband sleeps. ”
“My dear...” Behind her, Lord Riven let out a weary sigh. “Might I at least prevail upon you—for my sake— not to venture entirely alone to a spot known to be filled with dangerous water spirits who detest humans and have a recent record of viciously attacking their visitors?”
“Oh, nonsense.” Margaret rolled her eyes. “That was clearly in self-defense. I’m hardly going to start building a travel village by their lake to annoy them!”
“And yet...”
“I’ll go.” Startlingly, it was Leonie who volunteered. The nachzehrer’s ever-pale face looked grimmer than ever, but she continued steadily, “If the reason I’m...like this is hidden somewhere in the forest, then I want to know it too. I need to understand.”
“Very well.” Margaret couldn’t argue with a thirst for knowledge. “In that case, we’ll set out at first light.” She hesitated, then glanced at Olga. “Would you care to accompany us?”
“Oh, no.” The pupils of Olga’s eyes slitted as that internal eyelid shut and reopened once more. “I don’t care for group journeys...but I’ll be nearby. I generally am.”
Margaret wasn’t sure whether that was meant to be reassurance or a threat. Regardless, by the time she and her husband finally returned to their own room, she had a firm plan in mind, and multiple pairs of eyes had pored over the route that she and Leonie planned to take once dawn arrived.
She carefully placed the most accurate of all her maps, covered with scrawled notes from several of the inn’s residents and with her own chosen path clearly marked, onto the vanity table before the mirror.
Then she turned back to Lord Riven...only to find him leaning indolently against the closed bedroom door, watching her with an astonishingly smug smile on his handsome face.
Her eyebrows rose with instant suspicion. “What on earth are you thinking about now?”
“Oh, not much.” He straightened with easy grace and prowled towards her. “Just...have you happened to notice what time it is?”
She blinked. “Ah...a bit past three a.m., I think? We do still have plenty of time before dawn, if that’s?—”
“ Three a.m .,” he repeated meaningfully. “ Far later than the single hour you’d promised me to stay.”
“Oh!” It really was, wasn’t it? All in all, they had spent a full three hours downstairs, but she’d been so immersed in the lively conversation, it hadn’t even occurred to her to stop until everyone else was ready to disperse.
“Did you wish to leave earlier?” A sudden wave of remorse swept through her, and she reached out for him.
“I am so sorry. I know we were all busy talking about my work, but I promise , if you had only said?—”
Still smiling, he shook his head and turned her to face the mirror. “I had absolutely no complaints,” he murmured as he moved to stand behind her. “I was exactly where I wished to be, watching my brilliant wife make new friends simply by being her own dazzling self.”
“I.. .what ?” Margaret could only see her own reflection in the dusty mirror, brown eyes wide and startled, but she felt his big hands close warmly around her shoulders.
Tendrils of her upswept hair visibly ruffled under his breath as he spoke behind her. “I told you there would be no lack of welcome, once they came to know you.”
A scorching kiss against the sensitive nape of her bare neck made her gasp and instinctively arch her back against him, and his voice deepened into a low rumble against her skin. “My dear, you may never care for small talk, but when you talk about your passions, you glow .”
“Now you’re being absurd.” Her words were breathless.
The scene in the mirror before her—her mouth opening in a soundless moan, her body arching tautly against what appeared to be nothing but air behind her, even as physical sensation overwhelmed her—was so fantastical that it felt dreamlike, as if she really were being ravished by an invisible spirit.
..or merely imagining this whole vivid experience.
But her husband’s hands were solid and real as they slid down her back to curve around her waist, and his breath caressed her skin as he worked his way around the base of her neck. “Just look at yourself now,” he murmured. “See the woman I see.”
The woman Margaret saw—cheeks flushed, bosom heaving, and brown eyes glazed with pleasure—looked nothing like the plain and graceless social disappointment she’d known and accepted for most of her life.
Then again...what if she’d been relying upon the wrong mirrors? She had found her own reflection in, first, her aunt and uncle’s chilly disapproval and then her fellow students’ outrage at what they saw as her ‘intrusion.’
But if this was the woman her husband truly saw...
If she believed what he had said to and about her, not only just now but also earlier tonight...
Wait . Her mind abruptly snagged on the irrationality of that thought.
Wasn’t he the one person she trusted most in the world?
If that statement was accurate—and it was—then why shouldn’t she believe him over everyone else... especially people who had never given her good reason to respect any of their opinions?
Awash in inchoate emotions, sensations, and revelations, she twisted abruptly in his grasp, ignoring a distracting flash of light in the corner of her vision as she moved.
All of her attention was focused on the absurdly handsome man who stood before her now, visible once more, blond hair rumpled and hazel gaze tender, smiling down at her as his arms loosely surrounded her:
Her husband. Her partner and ally. Her dearest friend.
And...?