Everything was fragrant with chilies, mustard seed, lime, and coriander. Fernando hovered over the dishes, inhaling the aromatic steam.
“Your kanda poha reminds me of that little stall we visited on our way to Gharapuri to see the caves, the one that had the chai made with coconut milk.” He inhaled deeply.
“It should,” Amira said, sticking a spoon in the lentils. “He was using my grandmother’s recipe.
And I ground the rice the traditional way, in an iron mortar and pestle, so it is very good for Diana’s pregnancy.”
In spite of my insistence that I was not hungry, there was something downright alchemical in the effect that cumin and lime had on my appetite. Soon I was looking down at an empty plate.
“That’s more like it,” Gallowglass said with satisfaction. “Now, why don’t you lie on the settle and close your eyes. If you’re not comfortable there, you can always rest on the bed in Pierre’s old office, or your own bed, come to think of it.”
The settle was oaken, heavily carved, and designed to discourage loafing. It had been in the formal parlor during my previous life in the house and had simply drifted a few rooms to provide a seat underneath the window. The stack of papers on the end of it suggested that this was where Amira sat in the mornings to catch up on the news.
I was beginning to understand how Matthew treated his houses. He lived in them, left them, and returned decades or centuries later without touching the contents other than to slightly rearrange the furniture. It meant he owned a series of museums, rather than proper homes. I thought of what awaited me upstairs—the great hall where I’d met George Chapman and Widow Beaton, the formal parlor where Walter Raleigh had discussed our predicament under the watchful eyes of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I, and the bedchamber where Matthew and I had first set foot in the sixteenth century.
“The settle will be fine,” I said hastily. If Gallowglass would surrender his leather jacket and Fernando his long woolen coat, the carved roses on the backrest wouldn’t jab into my side too sharply. To make my desire real, the pile of coats by the fireplace arranged themselves into a makeshift mattress.
Surrounded by scents of bitter orange, sea spray, lilac, tobacco, and narcissus, I felt my eyes grow heavy and I drifted into sleep.
“No one has caught so much as a glimpse of him,” Amira said, her low voice waking me from my nap.
“Still, you shouldn’t be teaching classes so long as Benjamin poses a risk to your safety.” Fernando sounded uncharacteristically firm. “What if he were to walk through the front door?”
“Benjamin would find himself facing two dozen furious daemons, vampires, and witches, that’s what,” Amira replied. “Matthew told me to stop, Fernando, but the work that I’m doing seems more important now than ever.”
“It is.” I swung my legs off the settle and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. According to the clock, forty-five minutes had passed. It was impossible to gauge the passage of time from the changing light, since we were still entombed in fog.
“You look less pale.” Sarah called to Marthe, who brought tea. It was mint and rose hips, with none of the caffeine that would have made me more alert, but it was blessedly hot. I’d forgotten how cold sixteenth-century homes could be.
Gallowglass made a spot for me close to the fire. It saddened me to think of all that concern directed at me. He was so worthy of being loved; I didn’t want him to be alone. Something in my expression must have revealed what I was thinking.
“No pity, Auntie. The winds do not always blow as the ship desires,” he murmured, tucking me into my chair.
“The winds do what I tell them to do.”
“And I steer my own ship. If you don’t stop clucking over me, I’ll tell Matthew what you’re up to and you can deal with two royally pissed-off vampires instead of one.”