From Elyas, Micah and Charlotte traveled through the marsh country of Paddyton and reached the borders of Rypsy a week later. The largest of the seven River Nations, Rypsy proved to be as unique as its name. Paved roads of black brick drove winding paths through farms, rolling grasslands, and strange high hills that often resembled crashing waves. Long-abandoned mines of various ores littered the land, leaving deep pits and ghost towns overrun by wild grasses. Flocks of sparrows, meadowlarks, and chickadees created billowing clouds as they migrated south to warmer climates.

  But most intriguing to Micah was how windy it was. Almost as soon as they arrived at the border and gained entry from the posted guard, they were met with a blustery wind of such force, it threatened to snuff the fire horses right out. At times, it filled his ears and tossed his scarf into a flurry, never ceasing regardless of the hour. It slowed their progress considerably.

  He assumed Charlotte would be irritated. But the moment it washed over the wagon, she closed her eyes and smiled, spreading out her arms as if to embrace the cool winds.

  “I’m home,” she said.

  “I assumed you would be more apprehensive,” he replied.

  She breathed in a deep lungful of the fresh air. “I could never be afraid of my country, silly. Even with everything that has happened, it’s still home. Carnel is beautiful, but nothing beats my darling Rypsy.”

  “I’ve never experienced this kind of wind in such relatively flat country. Is this normal?”

  “Yes, and there’s a distinct reason for it. We Rypsy folk are often called ‘the wind farmers,’ and I’ll show you why once we get into Baston Wood, a lovely little township about ten miles up this road.”

  She closed her eyes and zealously breathed in the air of her homeland again. Micah watched her with interest. Since they left St. Meran, all he could dwell on was how to broach the subject of courtship. In the various towns in which they stopped for the night, he made surreptitious visits to local libraries in the hope of finding literature on the matter, but, as he knew would be the case, he found nothing.

  It seemed such a simple thing, asking Charlotte to be his girlfriend. Yet every time he began mustering the courage to do so, his palms became clammy, his heart beat incredibly fast, and his imagination filled to the stopper with possible reactions and outcomes that only ended badly. It was truly frustrating, but he had to believe it would be worth the effort if she accepted. Sadly, he realized too late his best chance had been the night they spent in the Asterly Gardens. At the current time, he wasn’t satisfied with his perceived success rate, so he chose to wait for a more opportune moment.

  As the wagon approached the settlement called Baston Wood, Micah was exposed to his first glimpse of Rypsy’s remarkable and distinctive towns. The wind picked up in strength, hindered little by any obstruction. The hills shaped like ocean waves became more numerous, and atop each, various buildings sprang from the red-colored earth, reached by makeshift staircases. Despite the oft-times rickety appearance of the wood structures, nothing rocked or trembled with the wind – each solidly held in place. What Micah assumed were streets were devoid of people, but an intricate network of bridges and wires linked the many hills to each other. All connected together, and the small mounts formed a wide circle covering many acres. A broad expanse at the center featured nothing but a grassy field and an immense, stone column.

  “See that?” Charlotte said, raising her voice to be heard over the wind. She pointed to the column. “That’s the Blessing Pole of Baston Wood. Every city in Rypsy has one. It’s what’s causing all the air currents.”

  “That’s the reason?” he replied. “What is its purpose?”

  “Let’s stop for a spell and get something to drink. It’s sometimes hard to have a worthwhile conversation outdoors in Rypsy.”

  They disembarked from the wagon, and Micah pocketed away the white disk after collapsing it. They climbed the winding stone staircase of a smaller hill, which Charlotte informed him was called a plateil, and crossed a wood-and-rope bridge to another plateil, which was topped with a charming café overlooking the central field. Along the way, they passed many locals wearing rigid clothing practical for such a windy city.

  Entering the café, Micah found the subdued noise a welcome respite. The eatery featured just a handful of tables, half of them occupied by whispering customers. It was as if they respected the quiet since it came at such a premium. A fire roared inside a stove in the corner, providing pleasant heat to their chilly fingers. He followed Charlotte to an empty table near a set of bay windows. A smiling waitress approached their table, offered up some pleasantries, then took their orders for hot coffee.

  “Isn’t this just lovely?” Charlotte asked, sitting primly in her chair and never looking more content.

  “Indefectible,” he replied.

  The waitress came with two large mugs of coffee along with cream and a bowl of sugar cubes. After being served, Micah said to Charlotte, “So how does that column cause all this wind?”

  She took a dainty sip from her cup, elegant in her every movement. “The Blessing Pole is much more than some stick that causes wind, Micah. It’s the heart of our country, and our winds are special. If I had to put it into the simplest of words, I’d have to say the Blessing Pole is Rypsy.

  “Since the inception of this country, our people have been farmers. From the Strait of the Final Word to the eastern border, most of Rypsy is farmland. Corn, wheat, barley, among a host of other crops. It’s always been that way. We know food, and we love food. Even this delicious coffee comes from the plantations that are numerous in the south.”

  “It is pretty good,” Micah admitted.

  “But a long time ago – I forget when it happened – a natural disaster threatened the country. Our honeybee population died off.”

  “Honeybee?”

  She nodded. “You should know how important bees are to pollination. Without them, much of our farming would be nearly impossible. Today, finding a honeybee in Rypsy is so rare, it’s considered good luck; yet, as you see, our farmlands still thrive.”

  “I can surmise that’s because of the Blessing Pole.”

  “You surmise correctly, sir.” She giggled. “But it’s the story behind it that makes it so appealing. Have you ever heard of Sandy Magic Baker?”

  “She’s the protagonist of a common children’s story.”

  “Well, yes, but she was a real person. See, back then, Sandy Fairchild was a renowned cook, but she was also a famed sorceress from Carnel, and she was most celebrated for using magic to augment common recipes. And when crops began producing lower yields each year, she was the one who connected it to the honeybees dying in droves. They weren’t pollinating, and farms suffered.

  “Sandy also figured out that a curse was the root of the problem, but by the time they located the instigator and ended the curse, it was too late. Bees had all but been eradicated, and Rypsy faced its doom. But Sandy loved Rypsy and refused to let it happen. Using all the magic knowledge at her disposal, she developed the very first of what she called a ‘Pollen Cycler.’ A sturdy wooden pole engraved with special runes and topped with an Element Stone cut a very particular way.”

  “The Blessing Pole,” Micah said.

  “Yes, that’s eventually what Rypsians began calling it.” She pointed out the window to the tall column in the middle of the field. “There are tens of thousands of them in Rypsy, and each city, no matter how small, has at least one. They come in various shapes and sizes, but they all have one purpose – to create the Pollen Winds.”

  The waitress came back and refilled their coffee. She also placed a steaming basket of bread on the table along with a tray of butter. Micah and Charlotte helped themselves to large, fluffy slices.

  “You said the winds were magic,” Micah said, wrapping his scarf around the lower half of his face and pulling his mask down. “How so?”

  “I don’t really know how they work, but the winds help pollinate the crops. They ensured the country’s survival, and even caused it to thrive. Everyone knows the best food comes from this country. Sandy Magic Baker came to be regarded as a hero, and her actions solidified a good working relationship with Carnel that lasts to this day, because Rypsy needed their magic and Carnel needed a trade route across the Strait. Eventually, Rypsy came to be called the Land of the Wind Farmers.”

  “Better than what it used to be called,” Micah noted with amusement.

  “What’s that?”

  “Land of the Necromancers.”

  Charlotte shuddered, cupping her mug of coffee close to her chest. “I’m going to have to agree with you on that.”

  “I guess that leaves me with just one more question,” Micah said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Taking into consideration these powerful winds, how is it possible you still prefer clothing bulkier than a haystack? Isn’t that like wearing a sweater in the desert?”

  Charlotte flicked a sugar cube at him.

  For several more days, they rode on, driving north into the heart of Rypsy, where Micah was treated to the lush grandeur made possible by its enchanted winds. Everything felt old, even ancient. Despite the many cultivated acres, it seemed nature had a firm grip on the land, and Rypsy’s citizens preferred to live within it, rather than dominate it.

  After his discussion with Charlotte, he was able to spot many more Blessing Poles. Some were large, and some were small. Some caused warm air currents while others drove chilly gusts across the plains. It differed by vicinage and crop, easy to disorient if one didn’t know where he was going. Despite Micah driving the wagon, Charlotte led the way. But as they drew closer to Astenbury, she grew distracted, becoming more and more restless and always biting on her lip or wringing her hands.

  One late morning, Micah snapped the reins, and his fiery horses turned a wide curve in the road and sauntered over a short hill, where a deep valley leveled out, surrounded by green thickets and a small lake beset with apple trees. Clusters of wildflowers added new colors to a previously verdant world, flowing lazily to a breeze that was meek compared to other areas of Rypsy. The new surroundings sparked something in Charlotte, because she smiled in happy recognition, but it was immediately replaced with hand-wringing, much more intense than before.

  Micah stopped the wagon. “Charlotte, if you’re so nervous about returning home, we can turn back. It doesn’t have to be now.”

  “No, no… I need to do this,” she replied sadly. “I miss my family… it’s just… I’m nervous about Daddy. I don’t know what I should say. Should I tell him what really happened? Or just lie, and say I’m on holiday or something? And then there’s you…”

  “What about me?”

  “He knows who the Black Sons are, Micah. How do I explain why an assassin of the king is traveling home with me? Not to mention—” She suddenly gasped. “Oh my gosh!”

  She quickly pointed ahead, where a man in overalls had emerged from the thicket, crossing the road with a fishing pole slung over his shoulder. He heard her exclamation and looked in their direction. He stepped back in surprise at the sight of the fire horses, but when he saw Charlotte, trepidation faded, and he broke into a bright grin.

  “Charlotte? Is that you?” he called.

  “Jasper!”

  She happily slid out of her seat and dropped to the ground. Lifting up her dress, she traipsed around the horses and ran to him, jumping into his outstretched arms. He laughed, swinging her round once before setting her down. They began chatting with animated fervor.

  Micah was so flustered by the turn of events, he didn’t know how to react, so he stayed seated. Jasper was young, maybe twenty-five years old or so, with short, curly black hair and a muscular frame. His jaw and chin were large, resulting in a slight underbite, but it hardly affected a particularly wide smile.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  After several minutes of chatting, Charlotte seemed to remember her surroundings, and she pulled Jasper back around the wagon

  “Jasper, this is Micah Champlain,” she said. “Micah, this is my very dear friend, Jasper Flight. We grew up together, and he lives just down the road from our estate!”

  Jasper reached up to shake Micah’s hand. “Good to meetcha,” he said in a rolling voice full of confidence.

  “Same to you,” Micah replied warily.

  “Charlotte says you’re quite the soldier. A regular bodyguard at her beck and call.”

  “Oh you,” she exclaimed, slapping Jasper’s arm and giggling. “You know very well that’s not what I meant at all.”

  “Alright, alright,” he replied, holding up his hands playfully. “Thanks for bringing her home safe, though. Wasn’t right seeing her go. She’s back where she belongs.”

  Charlotte’s expression gushed with sincere affection. “Aw, thank you, Jasper. I needed to hear that. We were just on our way to Applewood. Do you know if Daddy is home?”

  “I believe he is, now that I think about it. I saw him walking the gardens this morning, talking to some bigwig from the city.”

  “I guess that’s a good thing. I won’t have to wait to talk to him.”

  “Why? Is there trouble?”

  “No, no,” Charlotte replied, laughing nervously. “It’s just Daddy wasn’t expecting me home anytime soon, so the sooner he knows, the better.”

  “Well, I won’t keep you, dearest.” He took her hand and kissed it. “But why don’t you and I meet up for a drink tonight at our favorite café? You can catch me up on your travels. I’m sure you must have a book or two to tell.”

  “Well…”

  She seemed ready to agree, but she looked up at Micah for approval. Micah wanted to say no, but there was no logical reason for him to do so. He found this incredibly frustrating.

  “Oh, c’mon, Char,” Jasper said before Micah could answer, taking her other hand. “You’re home. You don’t need permission to do anything. What do you say?”

  Her eyelids fluttered as she considered it for a moment. “Alright. But come pick me up, okay? It wouldn’t be safe for me to go into town by myself.”

  He bowed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll see you tonight, then.” He turned and ambled back down the road. “See ya later, Michael.”

  Micah frowned as Charlotte climbed back into the wagon, brimming with enthusiasm.

  It’s Micah.

  Despite his intense yet unexplainable dislike for Jasper Flight, Micah realized a positive outcome as a result of their happenstance encounter with him. Charlotte’s courage increased afterwards, and she told him she was ready to go home and reunite with her family.

  Micah had a hundred questions in mind to ask about Jasper, but was hesitant to ask any of them. It shouldn’t have bothered him so much, since it only made sense Charlotte would have friends, both male and female, just like any normal person – yet, it did. It bothered him greatly, and just like the random traveler Charlotte met at the outpost in the Desert of Life, Micah found himself thinking unwanted violent thoughts against her friend. The way he held her and talked to her… they were not consistent with normal friendship. He tried to chase the aggressive thoughts away, but they had a firm grasp.

  It wasn’t half an hour before they arrived at the Goodsteel estate, a sprawling two-dozen acres at the cusp of another apple orchard and a valley thick with pine trees and oaks. The winds had never been calmer, yet they still breathed a magical life in the hollow, rustling everything that could move with a gentle hand. The mansion was enormous, white with a burgundy-tiled roof and a balcony for each tall window on three floors. Yet the trees still dwarfed the manor, casting a long shadow over it and piling leaves in the pockets between the roof and its many gables.

  “Isn’t it just the loveliest thing you ever laid eyes upon?” Charlotte asked, tears springing to her eyes as she disembarked the wagon once more.

  “Inviting,” Micah replied.

  He joined her at the short picket fence lining the road. Tugging his earring, the fire horses were snuffed out, and the wagon melted back into a disk and floated into his hand. He scanned the grounds. A walking path wound a course around the building into a spacious garden, but he noted no one on the premises.

  “I thought you said Applewood had guards.”

  “They were for me,” she replied. “Once I was gone, they weren’t needed any longer.” She looked down sadly for a moment before shaking her head and mustering up another bout of courage. “Okay, Charlotte,” she whispered to herself. “We can do this.”

  She reached for the gate of the picket fence and swung it wide. Together, they walked the path to the front door of the mansion, a deep red mammoth of an entryway with an iron knocker. At that moment, the Spritlit on her head began to flap its wings. The charmed insect flew off toward the gardens. They watched it flutter until it disappeared from view.

  Charlotte’s face plummeted with sadness, but he put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s probably just hungry, like Maglin told us,” he said. “It will come back to you.”

  She nodded, turning back to the matter at hand. She reached for the clasped handle and swung the door wide with a push. Wind sucked past them, finding entry into a spacious foyer.

  Micah marveled at the exquisite vestibule, noting the carved paneling with its gold-leaf inlay. Delicate vases sat on jade pedestals, filled with bunches of fresh flowers, and two staircases of rich mahogany curled upward, one rising to the second floor, another climbing to the third. The windows consisted of long panes made of waterglass, softening the sunlight as it passed through. A wide hall extended beyond the foyer.

  As they reached the base of the two staircases, a man appeared at the top of the one on the left, the one that reached only to the second floor. When he looked and saw them, he froze. Micah’s first thought was that it was Charlotte’s father, but the expressions of both she and the man as their gazes met did not immediately betray anything. He was tall and regal, dressed in rich robes with a high, square hat similar to the one Biblio always wore. A thick goatee was trimmed with care, and dark eyes held firm.

  “Daddy…” Charlotte ventured softly, clasping her hands together. “I’m home.”

  Micah could tell she was trying to be strong, but a sheen of moisture began to coat her eyes again.

  Allendale Goodsteel didn’t reply at first. Micah couldn’t tell whether the man was stunned or simply surprised, but he certainly didn’t appear overjoyed. For several moments, he stood at the top of the stairs, neither flustered nor settled, seemingly stuck in a state of non-reaction. Charlotte inhaled, ready to say something again, when another voice broke the vast silence.

  “Charlotte?” the feminine voice called. “Is that you?”

  Micah and Charlotte turned to find a woman appearing from a door at the far end of the hall. It took less than a moment for Micah to determine it could only be Sophia Goodsteel. From the sheer elegance of her dress and stature to the mirror-like visage of her daughter, right down to bright blue eyes, it was as plain as day.

  “Mother!” Charlotte cried happily.

  She ran to the woman, who likewise responded by scurrying up the hall as fast as modesty permitted. They embraced, bursting into a simultaneous barrage of happy shrieks, chatter, and other such womanly vociferation.

  “Crickets, I can’t believe you’re home!” Sophia exclaimed, bouncing on her heels with excitement. “My darling, what happened? You’re supposed to be in school.” She gasped, suddenly looking terrified. “You weren’t… expelled… were you?”

  “Holy crickets, mother!” Charlotte exclaimed with light reproach. “Of course not!”

  “Then why are you home? Not that I’m not happy. I’m thrilled, of course. It’s just we weren’t expecting you back for another few months.”

  “Well…”

  As they continued to prattle, Micah turned his attention back to Allendale, who descended the staircase and approached him. His manner remained firm and controlled, but his expression was now distrustful. An overtly suspicious stare devoid of discretion. Micah knew the look well – for good reason, no one trusted a Black Son.

  “Who are you?” he finally asked.

  “My name is Micah sinChamplain,” he replied. “Sir,” he added.

  This didn’t seem to appease his misgivings. Instead, his eyes narrowed. Micah couldn’t tell what he was thinking, a credit to him. Normally fear and anger were easily discernible, but Micah found neither readily evident in his countenance. The man was cool and guarded.

  “Daddy, this is my friend,” Charlotte quickly said as she reentered the foyer with her mother. “Micah… escorted me back, all the way from Carnel.”

  “Oh, how delightful,” Sophia replied. “One of Carnel’s famed Black Sons, just for our daughter’s protection. A godsend if I ever heard of one.” She turned to Charlotte and whispered very loudly. “Nice catch, sweetheart.”

  Charlotte blushed furiously. “Mother!”

  She issued a playful laugh, offering her hand to Micah in greeting which he took. It was delicate and graceful, just like her daughter’s. Sophia was an exquisite beauty, refined by her age, yet hardly bound by time’s shackles. Her eyes were sleepy in appearance and her smile was wistful, yet her actions radiated all the energy to match Charlotte’s bright-eyed enthusiasm. It was a very strange contradiction, and the only word he could think of to describe her was the very same Charlotte had used: scatterbrain.

  Allendale cleared his throat, and they all turned their attention back to him. “Charlotte, I want to have a private word with you.”

  His daughter was immediately subdued. “Yes, Daddy. I know. I have a lot to tell you.”

  “Your bodyguard can wait here.”

  He turned into the hall with Sophia and Charlotte in tow. Charlotte turned and held up a finger and an apologetic look, telling him she would be right back. He nodded, trying to reassure her. She seemed to understand, because she smiled nervously, clasped her hands together, then caught up with her parents as they opened wide doors into another room.

  When the doors were shut, Micah entered the hall as well, taking in the many refinements of Charlotte’s home while he waited. The elegance matched her prior description of it. Mirrors, paintings, and other Rypsy-style embellishments decorated ivory-painted walls. All doors were hand-carved, and the rich carpet was spotless. At the end of the hall, another passage branched left and right to east and west wings.

  “Who are you?”

  Micah turned to find a young girl emerging from the other end of the hall near the foyer. She possessed a set of gorgeous dark eyes, heavy-lidded with suspicion and just a hint of glare. Raven hair very similar to Charlotte’s curls reached past her shoulders, and her dress, though just as regal, was black and far more suited to Rypsy’s weather. She clutched a large book close to her chest. As with Sophia, Micah easily determined she could only be Olivia Goodsteel, as she was the spitting image of her older sister.

  “Micah sinChamplain,” he replied. “I am a companion of your sister’s.”

  “Charlotte?” The girl’s eyebrows furrowed with apprehension and fear, and she drew away when he came closer. “Has something happened to her?”

  “No. She has come home.” He nodded to the doors through which Charlotte and her parents retreated.

  “She’s in the library?”

  “If that leads to the library, then yes. I came with her.”

  The fear subsided in her gaze, which then hardened against him. “Why? Are you from Carnel? What do you want?”

  “I am her friend.”

  “You are a Black Son of Carnel. Despite the scarf you wear, it must be true. And I read the Black Sons do not have friends,” she replied imperiously. “Are you an imposter, or do you simply wear their garb for sport?”

  “You have nothing to fear from me.”

  “I am granted little consolation from such reassurances by someone wearing a mask. Am I to trust a single thing uttered by one so disguised?”

  “You sister does.”

  “You could have tricked her. Hypnotized her or something.”

  “With her eyes, that would be extremely difficult.”

  She wasn’t mollified by his reply, but it seemed to placate her. Even so, her eyes darted to his sword many times.

  “You have a sharp tongue for one so young,” he said softly. “I understand your suspicions, and I do not resent you for them. From what Charlotte has told me, your family has endured much. Trust must come at a price. Perhaps only your sister can vouch for my honor.”

  Olivia nodded to him, clutching her book tighter. “Perhaps.”

  They waited in silence. Micah sat on a cushioned settee while she waited near the door, steadily watching him. After a time, she seemed to accept he was not going to attack her. She opened her book and began reading voraciously.

  “Marcus Hornsby,” he said, reading the cover.

  “Doctor Marcus Hornsby,” she corrected with contempt, not taking her gaze away from the page. “And yes, it’s his latest. The Illusion and Delusion of Magic. He sent me a copy personally.”

  “I’ve read it.”

  Olivia looked up at him. She opened her mouth to speak again when she was interrupted by the doors to the library opening. Charlotte withdrew from the enormous room, followed by her parents. When she saw Olivia, she broke into a bright grin.

  “Olive!” She embraced her sister, then placed her hands on the girl’s cheeks and examined her face like a concerned mother. “You look well. Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

  “Welcome home,” Olivia replied. She shot another distrustful look at Micah. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  “Oh yes! We must catch up on everything! I want to tell you about my many adventures! How about if I get settled first – I’d really like to take a bath – and show Micah to one of the guest rooms? I’ll come find you and Mother after. Is that alright, darling?”

  She kissed Olivia, who nodded. For the first time, Micah saw the child in her.

  “That sounds wonderful,” Sophia exclaimed. “Let’s meet in the parlor. I will have tea and cookies brought up.”

  As the girls continued talking, Micah found he was being watched by Allendale again. The intimidating man approached with hands clasped behind his back. Micah stood.

  “Charlotte tells me you were assigned by Governor Riser as her personal attendant,” he said. His look was severe, as if trying to peer into his very soul.

  So, Charlotte couldn’t do it, Micah thought. She couldn’t tell them the truth. He caught Charlotte looking at him, biting so hard on her lip, he was sure she would start bleeding soon. Meeting her father now, I can’t say I blame her.

  “Yes, sir. That is correct,” he replied. “The governor was made aware of her past troubles, and assigned me to protect her.”

  “That is because I made him aware. I am personally acquainted with Governor Riser, along with the king’s liaison, Nathanial Vash. I am surprised he did not tell you that.”

  “The governor tells me only what he deems necessary. I am not his confidant, sir. I am his weapon.”

  Allendale’s eyebrow rose. His explanation must have seemed acceptable. “Do they send me any message?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Very well.” He turned. “Charlotte.”

  She came up to him immediately. Moisture coated her forehead.

  “When are you expected back in school?” he asked.

  “Oh… um… a month, I think?”

  “Yes, one month,” Micah said quickly. “We can stay in Astenbury for a week, before we must leave again. No one besides the governor knows our location, and I can adequately protect Charlotte until our return.”

  Allendale nodded. “Very well. Dinner is promptly at six. You are invited to join us, Master Champlain. Welcome to Applewood.” He took his wife’s arm and together they left them.

  “I’ll see you in the parlor, Charlotte,” Olivia said quickly before retreating after her parents.

  Charlotte winced when they were out of earshot. “I couldn’t do it, Micah. When the opportunity came, I lied instead. I feel awful.”

  “It’s fine, but we’re going to have to get our stories straight, or we will eventually be exposed.”

  “A surreptitious way of telling me I’m a bad liar.”

  “Not surreptitious at all. You are a horrendous liar. And that is coming from someone who never lies.”

  She moaned and slumped into him, burying her head in his chest. “Micah, you have to help me!”

  “Here’s what we will do. From now on, tell your parents that your schedule and permissions are strictly controlled by me, since I am ‘in charge’ of your safety. If your parents ask you any more questions, direct them to me, and if I’m not with you, tell them you must consult with me, because you aren’t sure.”

  “Holy crickets!” she exclaimed. “That’s brilliant!” She laughed. “For someone who never lies, you’re pretty good at this.”

  He sighed. “Please refrain from reminding me of all the undesirable traits I have acquired since our first acquaintance.”

  She saluted him. “Will do.” Laughing again, she took his hand. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room. There’s one right next to mine that you can have. You’re going to love my house. It’s the most wonderful place!”