The Wizard Heir (The Heir Chronicles #2)

The Wizard Heir (The Heir Chronicles #2) Page 65

Trinity and Cumbria

“As you can see, we have a large family in Britain, Seph.” Hastings gestured, taking in the tumbled gravestones that broke through the wind-blasted heather. “Unfortunately, they're all underground.”

Seph stooped and picked up a broken piece of granite. He scraped away at the moss that obscured the inscription on the nearest marker until it was revealed. HASTYNGS. He traced the letters with his fingers and looked back toward the great stone house. It brooded in boreal grandeur amid the frowning fells, set in a valley stitched over with stone walls. The light was decaying, although it was only late afternoon. Dusk came early this far north. Cumbria. Home of his ancestors. Hastings—his father—said the house had been in the family for generations.

As he watched, Jason emerged from the house, waved to get their attention, and disappeared back inside. “I guess dinner is ready,” Seph said. He stuffed his gloved hands into his pockets.

“I feel like I've found a family and a home, and Jason lost his,” he said.

Hastings stared off toward Scotland, his face bleak and still as the weathered hills. “I promised Jason that if he stayed in Trinity and finished school, I would get him involved in wizard politics.” Without shifting his gaze, he answered Seph's unspoken objection. “Believe me, I know all about the cost of holding on to anger, yet I can't talk him out of it. He still wants to go after D'Orsay.”

The political future of the Weirguilds was still cloudy. The council that had met at Second Sister had signed off on the Hastings-Downey constitution before they disbanded, but it was unclear how to get the document consecrated. The whereabouts of the Leicester-D'Orsay constitution was unknown. And, for the first time in more than five hundred years, the wizards were officially at war.

Linda and Hastings often held strategy sessions at the house that lasted late into the night. Sometimes Hastings was still there in the morning.

The role of family man did not come easily to Hastings. Much of Hastings and Seph's time together was spent in training: reviews of charms and countercharms, tutorials on the Old Magic. Seph realized his father was doing his best to hone his skills in wizardry for his own protection. That was love, delivered in Hastings's relentless fashion.

Madison was still working at the Legends and attending classes at Trinity. Despite her apprehension, she melded well with the upscale, grunge, art-student culture. Her work was even featured by one of the galleries close to campus.

She'd been wary of Seph since the episode at Second Sister. She held back, kept secrets as if she saw a new risk in their relationship that hadn't been there before. She was friendly enough, but he almost had the sense she was avoiding being alone with him. Linda had offered to fly her to Britain for Christmas, but she'd gone home to Coalton County instead.

Seph had chosen a present for her, four framed sketches of cathedrals he'd found in a gallery in London.

Hastings broke into his reverie. “We'd better go back. It won't do to be late to dinner on Christmas Eve.”

Dinner was served by candlelight in the great hall, roast beef and vegetables and Yorkshire puddings: a feast for three people, and they'd all had a hand in it. Afterward, they ate Stilton and pears and drank wine by the fire while the snow came down outside. Later, they would brave the weather to attend midnight mass at the Catholic church down in the village. Seph hoped it would keep snowing. Hastings had promised to bring out the sleigh.

Brightly wrapped packages of intriguing possibility waited under the towering Douglas fir in the hearth corner.

Hastings went first. For Seph, there were two books of spellcraft from Hastings's private collection. For Jason, a pair of English climbing boots, suitable for winter hikes in the fells. For Linda, a pendant with the flat-gray color of a sorcerer's piece, set with garnet.

Linda had a barn coat for Hastings, a heavy Scots-wool sweater for Jason. And a mysterious package for Seph. When she put it into his hands and he felt the weight of it, he knew what it was before he tore the paper away. It was his Weirbook, his history between his hands.

When Seph looked back at the events of the summer and fall, he realized his personal philosophy had changed. “Don't expect much, and you won't be disappointed,” he'd always said, a kind of charm of self-protection.

He had never planned on or expected parents, let alone a complicated pair like Linda Downey and Leander Hastings. As a family, they were still just a collection of strangers. Who knows what will happen? But he couldn't help but be optimistic.

Madison was still a mystery to him, but a mystery he hoped to solve. He would find a way to make it work, because he finally understood that sometimes you have to raise your expectations. And sometimes you need to make a claim on the world and the people you love to get what you most desire.