Time had stopped. Everything was over. The important secret that he’d been keeping, that he had to keep, was broken. Worst of all, it had been revealed to the one person that he wanted to stay ignorant. Not that he wanted to lie to her. He just wanted more for her to never learn that he’d been lying to her. His eyes dropped from hers, too afraid to see what her reaction to the answer was. He could have kicked himself. He should have noticed her suspicion growing, and predicted this. Now that the event was upon him, he was certain that it could have been prevented.

“You’re really not from Ahya?” He heard her ask. He shook his head. Then, to his surprise, he heard her give a triumphant sort of laugh. “I knew it!”

His head snapped up. “What?”

She was grinning broadly all over her face. “Oh, come on, Eric. You’re a terrible liar. It took me a bit to figure it out, but with all the signs, I could only come up with one conclusion. You aren’t Ahyan. So, where are you from?”

“Alaska,” he said quietly. Then, realizing that this wouldn’t mean much, he added, “It’s a country- I mean state. It’s on a planet called Earth.”

“Alaska? Earth?” The words sounded extra strange coming from her mouth. The Common Language in Ahya wasn’t exactly the same as English, and so the arrangement of sounds was a bit more complex. She frowned slightly, twisting her mouth, and tried again. “Alaska. Nope, never heard of it. Never heard of other worlds, to be fair. Well, we have Naturas, but that hardly counts.”

“Uh-huh,” Eric said blankly. He was still waiting for the explosion of anger, the rage that would follow the shock of realizing that he’d been lying to her for nearly three months now. “Samuel said that most people here didn’t know about other worlds.”

“That explains why Samuel has such an interest in you,” she said, switching back to a smug smile. “He’d be able to tell what you were right away, no doubt. So how did you get here?”

“Samuel brought me here,” Eric said. Even if the truth spell weren’t still affecting him, he wanted to get it all out in the open now. “I’m supposed to fulfill some great purpose, except that I don’t know what it is.”

“Samuel brought you here?” She asked, clearly shocked. “I knew he was one of the strongest mages in the world, possibly the strongest. But I didn’t know he could do that.”

Eric shrugged. Samuel’s strength had been implied so often that he had no reason to doubt it. “Right. Well, I’m here because his god told him to find someone. I’m supposed to train and get as strong as possible before whatever happens… happens.”

He shuffled his feet slightly, then dropped his gaze once more. “Sorry that I didn’t tell you. Samuel told me I had to keep it a secret. Even then, I’ve wanted to tell you for a while. I just… couldn’t-”

“Couldn’t reveal that you’ve been lying to me since we first met?”

“Yeah,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “You have every right to be angry at me. I wouldn’t blame you if you left me and never spoke to me again.”

“Hmph,” was her reply. He felt her coming closer and finally glanced up, tensed as if expecting her to hit him. “Well, as I said, I figured you were hiding something from me. But I’m not angry.”

“Y-you’re not?” He stammered. “But I lied to you.”

“Well, you had to, didn’t you?” She said, putting one of her cool hands on his arm. “I’d be more worried if you were a bad person. But I know you’re good, Eric.”

“How could you know that?” He shot back, then wondered why he was pushing the issue. “I could have lied about more than just this.”

“Woman’s intuition,” she said with a grin. “And I can tell when you’re lying. You can’t fool me. You’ll never be able to fool me.”

Then she stood up on her tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek so quickly, he had no time to react. She patted his cheek, smirked to herself, and walked past him and out of the study. It was at that exact moment that the spell faded, and the true weight of what he’d revealed hit him. He dropped to his knees, head hanging. How could he have not seen this coming? If only he’d been smarter, he scolded himself silently. Still, it was better knowing that Emma was at last aware.

A quiet knock on the door behind him snapped him back to the present. He glanced at the window to see that it was truly dark outside. Over two hours had passed since he’d returned home, he realized with a start. He jumped to his feet. He didn’t want the steward or any of his staff to know that something was off with him. Snatching up a book at random, he threw himself into a seat before calling. “Enter.”

The door creaked open a few inches, revealing the face of one of his maids. Her eyes flicked around the study quickly, finding him in his chair with the book opened towards the middle. “Pardon the intrusion, sir Eric. Matthew wanted me to tell you that dinner is ready.”

“Of course,” he replied, hoping he sounded smooth and vaguely interested. “I will be right down. Will Lady Ciayol be joining us for the meal?”

She nodded slightly. “Yes, sir. She is already at the table, awaiting your arrival.”

“Very good,” he said, closing the book gently and standing. “Thank you for letting me know.”

She gave a quick little bow, and retreated from the room, closing the door with a snap behind her. He heard her heeled shoes retreating down the hallway for a short distance, then the sound faded, leaving him in silence once more. He heaved a deep sigh, and returned the book to the shelf, taking a moment to read the title. Debts of a God. Interesting, he thought. What kind of debt could a god even own? He glanced towards the title. Samuel Bragg. Of course, he thought with a laugh. That man probably wrote a thousand books, with how long he’d lived.

He made a short detour to his suite of rooms to wash the dried blood from his hands and to change into something more comfortable. It was another high-quality shirt of dark blue. A pair of black pants went with it. The tailor of his estate had seen his chosen favorite color and made more than a dozen outfits that were centered around the color. To someone who was used to modern tee-shirts and jeans, they were plain, but for a citizen of Milagre, they were excellent works. Still, he thought, clothes were clothes.

The table was packed as usual when he entered the dining room, with all of the household staff minus the chefs seated and ready to eat. Emma was once again to his right, while the steward had changed position. Now, instead of sitting at Eric’s left, he’d taken up the other head of the table. Eric had, on more than one occasion, glanced up from his meals to see the man looking across the long table at him. He had the vague sense that his steward didn’t like him much, but was forced to be polite due to his role.

The meal was a simple one, but all the more delicious for it. His head chef, along with the two cooks who were training under him, were very skilled. A large bird of some kind dominated the center of the table, resting on a bed of fruit and greens. A large wisp of steam rose from it when the head chef began cutting slices off, placing the juicy meat onto plates beside some of the salad. Eric received his plate first, of course, and then Emma, then the steward. After that, the others were served, but nobody began to eat. It was common practice in Milagre for the lord to take the first bite.

He did so without hesitation, cutting off a section of the bird and popping it into his mouth. Juices flowed across his tongue as he chewed, and he made a clear sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until now. The Steward’s face darkened slightly in disapproval, but the cooks all smiled hugely, pleased that he enjoyed it.

“This,” he said, nearly forgetting to clear his mouth before speaking. “Is excellent. Easily one of your finest works.”

The head chef more than used to his appreciation of his cooking by now, grinned. Out of all the staff who attended Raven’s Hall, he’d adapted to his new master’s strange ways the quickest. The greatest joy a chef could have was the enjoyment of his food, and he was a remarkably casual man. He was pleased by Eric’s praise but knew that Eric was quick to compliment, not to mention devour, any food placed before him.

“You say that about everything I cook, sir,” he said. “But tonight’s meal is not my work. Well, not entirely. It was all James’ idea.”

Eric glanced at the apprentice cook, who smiled sheepishly. He didn’t have the confidence or casual air of the man who was training him. In fact, he was rather meek. Now, under the direct gaze of the man he was working for, he looked down and muttered nearly silently that it was his pleasure to serve his master.

“Well, James,” Eric said, “You’ve got a bright future ahead of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you become the best chef in the land.”

James went brilliantly red under the concentrated attention and muttered something else that nobody could make out. The steward snapped, “Speak up when talking to your master, James!”

“That’s enough,” Eric said it politely, but his voice was firm. It was the first time that he’d spoken so abruptly to the steward. It felt oddly satisfying, he thought, to put the pompous man in his place. “Thank you for this excellent meal, James. I suggest we all enjoy it before it’s gone too fast.”

There was very little talking after that, as they all tucked in and echoed Eric’s praise. The steward kept glancing towards Eric as the meal progressed, but he pretended not to notice. Suddenly remembering something Emma had said, he leaned closer to her, lowering his voice.

“What did you mean earlier,” he asked, “When you referred to my gift? What can people from Welsik do that I can’t?”

She smiled at him and took a sip of her wine goblet before replying. “The people of Welsik can shape raw materials with their bare hands. It is an extraordinary gift. It does have limitations, but it saves them a great deal of gold when it comes to preparing basic items. They can essentially make basic weapons and tools for free.”

Eric leaned back as the head chef came to pour him a cup of tea, then replied. “I don’t have that option. Samuel said I would be able to reflect the abilities of any race, but that wasn’t an option.”

“Oh, that’s probably because Samuel doesn’t know how to do that magic,” she said in a hushed voice. “There are some magics that are unique to the mage or mages that use it. So unique that it can’t be taught.”

He mulled that one over for a while without replying, starting on his second slice of meat. Was the magic of Welsik Ancient then? He knew very little about magic in Ahya, but he supposed that Ancients were like this, having one or two unique abilities that couldn’t be copied. He wondered if he could ever get a skill so unique that only he could master it. It was an exciting thought.

After dinner, Eric excused himself from the table and went to the washroom once more to bathe. The hot water was blissful on his sore joints and muscles, those minor things that the healing spells couldn’t fix. He let out a contented sigh. After he was finished, he quickly toweled himself dry, and put on a comfortable robe, dark blue in color, and returned to his room. To his surprise, Emma was there, sitting on the edge and clearly expecting him. In her hand was a half-empty bottle of some bright white liquid.

“Uh,” he said hesitantly. “Hello. What is that?”

“It is a potion to prevent child,” she said, as casually as if commenting on the weather. Come here.”

Filled with food and exhausted from a day of hard work, he couldn’t quite comprehend what she had in mind. But at her behest, he moved forward cautiously. Hours later, when the shouts awoke him, he was still close to her, one arm around her bare shoulder. He’d never slept so well in his life.