Scholar of Magic (Art of the Adept #3) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,16

“If someone is trying to kill Laina or hurt any of the Nerrow family I can’t just let it happen,” declared Will. “Selene would be disappointed in me otherwise,” he added a few seconds later as an afterthought.

“If anything happens to you, Selene will kill me,” countered Blake. “Have you considered that? You’re no match for the man we fought. Besides, after what happened I’m certain that Lord Nerrow will see that his daughter is well protected.”

Will shook his head. “He doesn’t know about the attack last night.” Blake gave him a quizzical look so Will explained, “She snuck out yesterday and came here alone. Her father wouldn’t have allowed that, so clearly, she wanted to see Selene about a private matter. She seemed desperate, so Laina was probably aware that she was in danger, yet she came alone anyway.”

The older man rubbed his face. “So, she likely didn’t tell her father then. You’re right. Still, this isn’t your problem. I suggest you send the baron an anonymous warning and let him deal with it.”

The advice was sound. Will couldn’t argue that, but his gut was telling him something different. If Laina had only felt safe bringing her problem to Selene then she had probably had a good reason, a reason that presumably she thought Selene would agree with. And if I alert our dear father to whatever it is, I could make things even worse for her, he thought.

His determination firmed up, and Blake saw as much from his expression. Before Will could speak, the older man gave him an intent stare. “If only you knew someone skilled in both combat and stealth who could watch over her…”

“I appreciate the offer,” said Will, “but I think it best if I—”

His manservant sighed loudly. “You’re my responsibility. Have you considered discussing this with your wife?”

Will stared at him blankly. I know he’s figured out that she isn’t really Selene.

“Maybe she knows someone skilled in the art of disguise,” said Blake, stretching out the words while waving one hand in a circular motion.

“Oh!” Will exclaimed as he finally understood. He nodded in agreement but didn’t say more. How did my life get so complicated? he wondered. I’m married, but I only spent one day with Selene before she had to leave. My fae aunt is impersonating her, my manservant knows, but I have to pretend he doesn’t, otherwise he’ll be forced to admit the truth to the king. “And to top it all off, I’m trying to help my half-sister who doesn’t know we’re related,” he muttered.

“What was that?” asked Blake. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Nothing,” said Will. “I’m just thinking out loud.” Rising from the breakfast table, he made for the stairs. He stopped briefly before leaving the room. “Don’t ever cook eggs again, not even if I’m on death’s doorstep. In fact, especially not then. They’d probably push me over the edge. Stick to porridge if I’m too sick to cook.”

Blake had the nerve to look genuinely hurt. “That’s a bit much, even for a joke.”

Does he really think they were edible? Will couldn’t decide. “I wasn’t joking.”

A few minutes later he was back in his room, which presumably was where Selene was. Of course, Tailtiu hadn’t returned yet, and normally wouldn’t until late afternoon. Her service pretending to be the missing princess was something that Aislinn had worked out with Tailtiu—it wasn’t part of any bargain with Will. Consequently, anything he wanted Tailtiu to do beyond her evening impersonation would have to be negotiated separately. He repeated his aunt’s name three times and waited, knowing it would take her nearly twenty minutes to reach the house from the nearest congruence.

Usually she arrived in the form of a bird and slipped in through the window to avoid anyone seeing her comings and goings. Today was no different. She arrived after nearly an hour had passed, which meant Will was running short of time if he was to make it to his first class of the day without being tardy.

“What took you so long?” he demanded shortly.

His aunt arched one brow. “Pardon?”

“It shouldn’t have taken you an hour.”

“I’m under no