Chapter 18

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The spell doesn't reveal its secrets to us. The description was scrawled by a madman, and it isn't as if these things come with an instruction manual. Only the spell itself can be read clearly, and it isn't much help in figuring out what is going on with my warlord. 

It would be more helpful if he were at all interested in learning about the book, but even revealing it still freaks him out in a way that bothers me to my core. Fear is not something he wears well, and I can tell by the way his entire being changes; he's terrified of what this book is capable of. I release him from his torture and put the book away, safely in its place, while he paces the hallway with tense energy. 

I'm surprised that he wants food as eating was always a chore to get him to partake in. 

I'm able to enjoy a normal lunch with him. He pointedly tells me that he enjoys black coffee when it comes from elves, but in his home in Spain, he drank mostly tea. Coffee was a luxury his foster family couldn't afford, so they made do with various garden herbs to create tea. 

"Herbs? Like what?" I ask him, curious as I watch him pick at his plate.

"Mint, I believe. My adoptive mother would sometimes get tea bags from the port when she'd bring the lady's quilts she'd sewn, not quite sure what was in there. As I got older and got more patrons who needed protection, I was introduced to a proper English tea and I quite like that. It's hard to make on the road though, so mostly I'd drink it when I was entertaining mistresses in their homes."

"Entertaining, hmm?" I suggest, grabbing a stray biscuit piece off his place to nibble on. 

Verando shrugs, refusing to indulge my scrutiny. "My jobs didn't pay well enough, I needed the extra money, and mistresses are often lonely. I was effectively a lady of the night, I suppose you could say, in a lot of ways."

"While you were married?" I accuse him, horrified, sitting back in my chair. 

Considering this, he takes a bite of bread, "Some of the time, yes. Marisol struggled with the concept of settling down, she'd disappear for months at a time. I did what I wanted, and eventually, we decided to get married. Whole thing was actually a touch silly, thinking back on it."

"A touch," I repeat back, unimpressed. "So I'm in love with a whore, is what I'm gathering."

Chuckling, I must amuse him, for he doesn't look the slightest bit angry. "You seem to appreciate my many talents. Did what I must, wasn't a bad way to be at that time, always the fear of syphilis, I suppose, but..."

My jaw drops, and he laughs, a genuine laugh from deep within that seems to almost be uncomfortable in its duration. 

"I swear to the gods above-" I seethe and he shakes his head at me. 

"I'm clean. I promise."

Horrified, I try and think back to our previous conversation before I realized I was entertaining a prosititute. Our lives were so different; I'd never dreamed of half of what he mentioned. As a youth, I probably wouldn't have even believed that people lived as he did. My mother used to make me warm ciders or fresh milk. We didn't want too much, given that many people paid their taxes in goods rather than monetary means. 

 I wrinkle my nose at the strong smell that seems like liquid gold to him. "When I was brought to the elven kingdom, coffee helped me get through the days." He yawns, "Funny to think it's a slave drink here... I suppose they gave it to us to help us work harder; something in it gives one a boost." His gaze tilts towards the kitchen staff; perhaps we weren't the united front that I'd hoped we were. 

I'm still getting used to civilian Randy, so often, I've pictured it and wondered what he would have looked like. The only clothes that fit any of the lycans in this entire place belong to their human companions, who stay on occasion, so I'm truly getting the full view. 

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