He was thinking of his dear, departed, pined for, beloved, fabulous, benevolent Ilsa.
Shit, maybe I should have sucked it up and gone to spend time with his kids.
Pulling it together, I decided a change of subject was in order.
To do that, I asked, “What are your enterprises?”
“Oil,” he answered his boots immediately, then turned his head and looked at me. “The House of Ulfr owns vast tracks of land. Under some of it, oil was found. The oil used in lamps.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, thinking that if this was the case, although it might not be as highly sought after in his world as in mine, it still was probably still highly sought after.
No wonder he seemed loaded.
“And other land has gas,” he carried on.
Yes, loaded.
He continued. “We’re behind Fleuridia in equipping buildings and homes with gas lights and heat, but we’re quickly catching up. The House of Ulfr also owns controlling interest in the largest firm that’s doing that work.”
Totally loaded.
“We have electricity in my world,” I offered.
He nodded and looked away, saying, “Yes. Finnie explained this to me. It’s an intriguing concept and after we fought to unite Lunwyn with Middleland, I set researchers on harnessing it.”
“That was smart,” I muttered lamely.
I’d already learned from the guys of the recent war in which Apollo and all his men fought to reunite the countries of Lunwyn and Middleland that had been split by a now-deceased king in order to give his twin sons land to rule.
Luckily, their side won.
“I also own a mine here that produces Sjofn ice diamonds as well as import jewels from Korwahk, have them cut and sell them to jewelers throughout the Northlands,” Apollo informed me. “Further, the House of Ulfr owns a variety of farms that raise mink, ermine, sable, rabbit, cattle, and the like. They sell the meat and tan the hides to provide fur and leather to clothiers.”
He stopped talking, so I observed, “With all that going on, you must be very busy.”
“I am,” he agreed.
“So, I guess me and malevolent witches are really kind of a pain in your ass,” I noted, trying to inject a badly needed dose of humor into the conversation.
I swiftly got his eyes and they weren’t flashing with amusement.
“Malevolent witches, yes. You, no. Not when you’re being as you are now. When you’re being churlish, yes.”
Suddenly, I felt like a bitch and it didn’t feel good.
“Apollo—”
Before I could say more (not that I had any clue what to say), he straightened in his chair, turned to me but tipped his head to the table.
“You’re finished?”
“Yes,” I said softly.
“Then we’re away to bed.”
Away to bed.
Crap.