Gabriel nearly refused on principle but caught the lift of Nic’s dark brow. When she offered to draft a missive and send it, he did his best to hide his resignation. Nic knew, probably better than he did at this point, what they could afford. Unfortunately, she vanished into the library to take care of the task, leaving him to field the new arrivals and their endless questions. The concept of minions, or this potential secretary he could delegate tasks to, began to sound better and better.
When his mother and father showed up, it was his turn to nearly cry out in relief. His father doffed his cap, audibly scratching his skull at the sight of the restored manse and the considerable crowd of people. His mom shook her head in amazement. “People have been by all morning,” she said, “all telling us the house was above water again and looking like nothing we’ve ever seen before, but I hardly credited it.” She stared a moment longer then turned a look on him, a line between her brows—exactly as she’d looked when he created that first deluge, puzzled and a little bit afraid. “I know I said I knew you could do this, but I didn’t expect…” She trailed off, biting back the words.
“For Nic and me to do it overnight?” he asked with a smile he didn’t feel. What he did feel was a similar aghast astonishment. In the magical moonlit night, exploring the newly raised manse with Nic, he’d grown to accept the presence of the sprawling halls, so infused with the unseen presence of his ancestors, like one accepted the reality of a dreamworld while occupying it. In the bright light of midday, spring in full swing around him with riotous birdsong, his father in his dirt-soiled coveralls and his mother with a few stray orange-blossom petals in her hair from inspecting the blooming orchards, the two worlds collided sharply.
“It is quite a feat,” his father acknowledged, carefully situating his hat on his head again. “I’m proud of you, son,” he added, though it came as an afterthought and sounded more bewildered than anything.
“I couldn’t have done this without Nic,” Gabriel explained, not quite sure what he wanted them to understand. “I’m learning a great deal from her.” Turning his face away, he wiped a hand over it, hoping he looked flushed from the warm day and not his thoughts of all he was learning from his luscious wife.
“Where did all these people come from?” his mom asked as a group of laughing young wizards burst out of the north wing, turning to point up at the lofty gables. “I mean, I know you two mentioned that healer and a few others, and Nic sent us a message that you needed help sorting guests into rooms, but I didn’t expect…”
“People to help us restore the house,” he replied, keeping the word deliberately lower case, so they wouldn’t think he meant any of these people would become family. Except, they would, wouldn’t they? “Nic has been busy.”
“Well, she’s an organized soul,” his mom observed faintly. “And she said she’d have House Phel ready for a big society wedding by midsummer.”
“She’s well on her way to accomplishing that goal.” He noted the rueful twist to his words and wondered at it. “And these are just the highest priority staff on her lists, and the nearest to Meresin. There will be more.”
“Well, then,” his mother said, brushing at her hair, “I supposed I’d best find Nic and get my assignments.”
“You could move back into the house, Mom,” he suggested before she could go. “All the windows will have glass soon instead of boards. And new furniture.”
She crooked a finger at him, offering her cheek, and he kissed it. “I like my little cottage,” she confided. “I suspect it will be quieter than this place.”
“Probably true,” he agreed.
“What can I do?” his father asked as his mom bustled off, craning her neck to take in the north and south wings.
“How’s that levee?” Gabriel asked, the sudden inspiration hitting him with a glow of relief.
“Still leaking like a sieve,” his father allowed.
Gabriel clapped his hand on his father’s back. “Let’s go see to that.”
The sun waslowering when Nic arrived on Salve. She’d freshened up, perhaps even bathed, and looked dewily lovely as a rose in first bloom. She also wore a light-green dress he’d never seen before. Had her trousseau arrived? That would certainly relieve some of her unspoken anxiety about her father’s position on her actions.
“You look beautiful,” he told her, leaning on his mud-covered shovel.
“I wish I could say the same of you,” she replied, arching one brow. “Did you soak in the mud—some sort of rejuvenating spa treatment, perhaps?”
He laughed, stretching his back, aware of the ache of hard work in the muscles there. It had been a good afternoon, grounding to work side by side with his father as he’d done when everyone thought he’d be only an honest farmer. He’d sweated up a storm, worn blisters on his hands, and felt more like himself than in longer than he could recall. Even before he’d gone to Elal to meet Nic, he’d spent far too many days and nights holed up in that moldering library, studying histories and spells, wrestling this magic that possessed him far more than he’d wielded it.
“Do I even want to know about House Magical Mud’s healing treatments?” he asked, then lifted a hand to his father’s hail from below. “The good news is, I think we’ve found the weak point in the levee.” He pointed with his shovel to the muddy pit he’d just climbed out of. “There was a bit of sinkhole beneath that just kept undermining everything we put on top of it.”
Nic eyed the pit dubiously, Salve shifting daintily beneath her. “I’ll be irritated with you if you didn’t call for me to help because you were worried about draining my magic.”
“Nope.” He grinned at her. “All manual dig-dig method. Sometimes that does a man good.” He reached down to offer his father a hand up the last bit of slippery slope.
“Nic,” his father said, doffing his muddy cap. He looked like a child’s mannequin made out of mud, so Gabriel figured he didn’t look any better. No wonder Nic was giving him the side-eye.
“GF,” she replied warmly. “I’ve been asked to tell you to go home already and that a man your age doesn’t need to be working himself to death when younger bodies can do it twice as well in half the time.”
His father put on an exaggerated expression of shock. “You look like my daughter-in-law, but that’s my wife’s voice coming out of your mouth!”
Nic laughed, her heartfelt, musical laugh. “I’m memorizing the lines I should use on your son. Would you like to borrow Salve for a lift home?”
“Ah, no, though it’s sweet of you to offer. It’s a short walk that will help loosen the kinks. Good work today, son. I think the boys and me can finish ’er off tomorrow.”
“Perhaps Gabriel and I could help tomorrow,” Nic suggested.