Midlife Magic - Victoria Danann Page 0,79
she’ll recreate the essence of what you want. There’ll be a walk-through for refining details and, when you approve, I’ll make payment from your accounts.”
I was dumbstruck. Again.
“You mean the, um, queen is going to create my whole house, like, in one day?”
Lochlan chuckled. “No. Once she has an understanding of what you want, it will be done in the blink of an eye.”
I stopped walking. And blinked.
“Is this a joke?” He shook his head. “That kind of thing isn’t just magic. It’s godlike.”
“Potayto. Potahto.”
“’Let’s Call The Whole Thing off’.”
“Why? Was it something I said?”
I briefly wondered how long I would live in Hallow Hill until I understood my neighbors and was understood by my neighbors.
“It was a response to what you said. A song title. Gershwin, I think?”
“Oh, yes.” He chuckled. “Gershwin.”
The claim of creating a house in a second was outrageous and yet, I’d seen enough to know it’d be foolish to question that such a thing was possible. And, once the door of acceptance was opened a crack, my eagerness to see such a feat fueled the thrill of anticipation.
I grinned. “About the house though. I can’t wait.”
“You have no choice.”
I sighed. It would be a while before communication was glitchless. “It’s just an expression that means I’m excited.”
“Oh. Of course. You see I have much to learn as well.”
I decided Lochlan might get my prize for kindest person I’d ever met, and I was glad he was my solicitor, clerk, teacher, guide, and ‘handler’.
“And there’s more,” he said.
“What?”
“It’s time for you to begin your review of cases to determine what will make the Hallowstide docket.”
My shoulders sagged because, whereas watching a dream house manifest into creation sounded like fun, docket selection sounded like work.
“You sure I’m qualified for that?”
He slanted his eyes toward me with a mischievous little half-smile. “You know what I’m going to say.”
“That the Powers That Be are never wrong.”
He chuckled. “There’s one case that’s especially interesting. I’m lookin’ forward to hearing your thoughts on it.”
“Are you going to tell me which one?”
He laughed. “No. That might influence your view.”
“So, you think it’s time to set journal-reading aside and actually go to work?”
“You’ll have many years to make your way through the library, should you decide to do so, but whereas there’s no time constraint on that, we do have deadlines to meet regarding Court Week. People must know which cases will be heard so they have time to prepare.”
“How exactly are cases presented? Does each side have an advocate? Do they speak for themselves? Is there a jury?”
“The parties can choose whether to speak for themselves or put forth a representative. Members of the fae monarchy sit at the front when they please hoping to exert influence over decisions with their presence. They’re free to offer opinions on your rulings but can’t overturn you. You are the absolute final arbiter.”
“Yikes, Lochlan. Sounds like a way to make enemies.”
With an amiable shake of his head, he said, “Even the most ambitious and power-hungry of the fae monarchy knows that all magic kind, including themselves, were well on the way to extinction before Merle’s system was put in place. They’re deferential. And grateful. Theoretically. Most of the time.”
I jerked my head toward him. “One too many qualifiers, Lochlan. And when they’re not? Deferential and grateful?”
“Well,” he smiled, “that’s what the sephalian is for. The fae monarchy are consumed by passions and love of power. They had to impose this system on themselves because dwindling numbers forced them to concede their lack of self-control.”
“I know what the sephalian is.”
Lochlan sighed. “I suppose it’s another thing I forgot to mention.”
“Keir Culain had me for tea. He showed me the court, which is beautiful in an other-worldly way. He also showed me his, um, alter ego.”
With a small laugh, Lochlan repeated my words like I’d made a joke. “Alter ego.”
“The elf in the stained glass? The scribe? Is that you?”
“None other,” he said. “The magistrate depicted was one of the most famous, thought so because of his gift for both fairness and innovation. Perhaps one day your visage will take his place.”
“You sweet talker. How many magistrates have heard that from you?”
He laughed. “Where do you plan to review the cases?”
“How many cases am I reviewing?”
“On this occasion, since Mabon was missed in the transition, there’ll be fifty or so.”
“And I need to whittle that down to how many for the docket?”
“You and I will need to confer on that. You’ll prioritize in order of what you