On the morning after their one day spent at the inn, Winter led the group to another location: a small ship closer to the border of Whitelake. It was half a day’s walk from the inn and when Chris had asked if it was another one like it, Winter had answered:

“It’s a houseship that belongs to Ian’s family.”

“Just one member,” Ian corrected her hurriedly.

“You have relatives outside of Crystal?” Chris raised a brow at him, both amused and surprised by this curious fact.

Ian grumbled, “Yes, I do.”

This relative turned out to be Ian’s maternal grandmother, whose home decor surprised Chris greatly, and once again convinced him that one bad apple a rotten tree did not make: it was not a very wide space, but somehow the old lady had managed to cram a ridiculous amount of furniture inside. There were long daybeds and low benches with numerous pillows stretched across the walls of the ship, there were carpets and sofas and bookshelves on every visible corner, everything was colored in oranges and reds (another big surprise: most Witches preferred colder colors), the kitchen, taking up half of the far side of the ship’s hull, was indescribably full of any and every cooking utensil Chris could think of and a curious amount of jars lining every shelf. It was all still very neat. There was a low wide coffee table between all the sofas and yet another, higher table in the midst of the kitchen.

Filipa Burness, for that was the name of their host, gave them a greeting that surprised him even more than the contents of her home. After exclaiming “Christian!” she proceeded to chatter on in Aurorian while pulling Ian into an embrace. When she let go, his face was redder than Chris had ever seen it.

“Hello, grandmother,” he mumbled stiffly, clearing his throat and giving a hearty attempt to remain stoic. Winter told the old lady something that Chris thought was along the lines of “I hope we’re not intruding” and touched her ear with a bow. Lady Burness laughed outright. Her next words were unclear, but Winter’s name was mentioned and the woman didn’t seem unhappy, so Chris concluded it wasn’t bad news. The two chatted for another minute while Chris and Daniel shuffled their feet by the entrance, until Winter said:

“Oh, I forgot; Lady Burness, our companions do not speak Aurorian.”

“Is that so? You should have said so sooner, goby.” The woman turned to Chris and Daniel. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ah, I’m Chris, and this is Daniel.”

Daniel smiled, nodding politely. “Hello.”

“It’s so good to see a few smiling faces around!” The lady shot a very meaningful glance towards Ian. “It’s always nice to have guests in general, as two certain boys can’t allow themselves to be seen in a place such as Whitelake…”

Her English, though with a thick accent, was quite fluent.

“We were a bit surprised to hear he has a relative here,” Chris replied, trying to avoid looking in Ian’s direction.

“Of course you were. Those brothers never do come visit, and Avrora forbid mentioning me.”

Ian stuttered, “It—it’s a long way from the Capital, and you know we cannot skip studies —”

“Yes, you really seem taken with your studies, especially right now.” Ian looked away and the lady went on, “Do not try to cover up your father’s disapproval of me, garfish. Not that I care for that—” she switched to Aurorian and went on for a while longer. By the end of her lecture, Ian was looking at her with what seemed like a mix of admiration and horror. Chris had no idea what she’d said, but he had a feeling it wasn’t anything that flattered Ian’s father.

He felt his stomach growl.

Turning to Winter, he whispered, “I’m really sorry to say it like this, but, would it, would it be possible, to, er…”

Lady Burness clapped her hands together. “Oh, but togues, you must be starving! Ian told me he’ll be bringing friends on tour but you came early, so I’ll need you to fetch some things for me, yes?”