Page 8 of Ashborne Phoenix

Her brows rose—and not in the condescending manner I was learning to recognize in adults. She gave me a skeptical look as she would a peer. “Are you certain, my lord?”

“I’m not a lord, yet,” I insisted, though my cheeks warmed, because I believed that to be called one made me a man.

“Any man—young, or not—who oversees the estate is the lord for the time,” she said with a small smile. “And as the lord, it is your duty, sir, to tell your servants what intruders we face, so we might protect you.”

I swallowed, half-certain she was teasing me, and half-relieved that she seemed to understand.

I lowered my voice to a shamed whisper. “There aren’t intruders, only… bad dreams.”

“Ah, there has been an infestation of late,” she said, clucking and nodding as if the conversation suddenly made sense. “Even the servants are stricken.”

I blinked. “They are? But… nightmares aren’t catching!”

“Don’t be so certain, my lord,” she said—no smile, but the quiet, murmured tone of a confidante. “The good news is, we have an antidote. It’s why I asked for the chocolate,” she whispered with a sly glance toward the door. “It’s rather bitter—so we must put it in something pleasant.”

I frowned harder. “The chocolate is… medicine?”

She nodded solemnly. “Very important for the heart,” she said, patting her ample chest with her fingertips, right over her breastbone. “Though only a few know the tincture. So, if you suffer in the future, ask for me. I must administer it with care.” And then she rested her hand on my hair, before sliding it down to cup my chin. “You have been given a great burden to carry, my lord,” she whispered with a glance toward the door. “Even the strongest among us will need assistance at times. I am your servant, of course,” she murmured. Then she leaned in, ostensibly to straighten the blanket behind me and pull it back around my body. But when she pressed her thick chest against mine I couldn’t help but lean into that soft, strong warmth. And she didn’t move away, though she’d shaken the blanket out more than once. Then she tucked it around me without removing her chin from my shoulder, and wrapped me in it tightly, still leaving me to lean against her.

I almost cried again.

She didn’t draw away until footsteps approached from the hallway, at which point she pushed painfully to her feet and instructed the man, when he arrived with the tray, to place the drinks on the small table.

She mixed something from a small bottle in her pocket into the chocolate, then patted the chair and urged me to sit with her.

We drank chocolate together in the flickering light of the candle.

And my panic subsided.

Until some time later, as my eyes were beginning to droop again, when my mother arrived in the doorway unannounced, her expression dark with disapproval.

“Why is the Young Master awake?” she snapped.

Mrs. Voss leaped to her feet, then curtseyed hurriedly, wobbling—it was the first time I registered that she wore a cap and was covered in a voluminous nightdress.

“Young Master Vane suffered a terror, and called for assistance in your absence, Mistress,” she said breathlessly. “He has ordered us with great aplomb.”

Mother’s gaze on her was narrowed and suspicious.

“She was nice, Mama,” I said quickly, hopping up from the seat. “She helped me keep the house safe while you were g—”

Her backhand whipped out to crack against my cheek with such speed, I cried out and stumbled to my knees, tripping on the corner of the blanket and blinking in shock.

But Mother didn’t even glance at me on the floor. She ordered Mrs. Voss out of the room with hushed promises for punishment if this was spoken of among any of the servants, then closed the door behind her and turned back to face me.

I’d made it back to my feet by that time, but my cheek stung and I was trembling again.

But to my confusion, Mother’s face softened. She rushed forward to gather me up, whispering reassurances and chiding me for not calling for her sooner.

“They said… they said you were with the… the Cruors and—” I cut off because Mother’s hair, which was down, swung back as she stroked my hair, revealing a bruise, high on her cheek and thickening the skin over her eye. “Mother!” I gasped. “What happened?”

I was Young Master now. Responsible to solve the problems. Where was Father? And why—

“Hush, Vane. My sweet boy, so concerned for me. You are a gift, my boy. Such a gift to a mother’s heart.”

I was confused, still half-afraid because she’d been angry. But there was no sign of it as she sank to the carpet, crossing her legs under her gown, and pulled me into her lap, cradling me in a way she hadn’t done in years. But I was so confused and afraid, I let myself be held like a baby as she rocked me, shocked when, after holding and rocking me, she sat up—and tears glistened on her cheeks.

“Mother! Why are you crying?!” The sight of her tears pressed mine to the surface, and I hurriedly tried to wipe them away. “Mrs. Voss explained—my nightmares, even the servants have them. But she has the tonic! I won’t keep giving the dreams to others. We’ll all sleep—”