Damien stood a little straighter. “Did you?”
Erick nodded as if there were no dubious tone to Damien’s question. “There was always something about him, something wrong. And the crown practically confirmed it with their edict.”
“An edict from the crown? About the Caldors?”
“It was a strange thing to be sure, but the message denounced Cedric Caldor’s recent actions, though none of them were specified, and it stated he was in league with dark forces that are still at large. My sister and I have been wary ofeverything that’s come out of Archibald’s court in the last few years though.”
“Oh, I’d love to see Winnie!” Amma’s eyes lit up.
“And Winnifred would hate to hear you call her that.” The two laughed too familiarly, and Damien’s jaw ticked. “But she left for Eirengaard half a moon ago with some of our most trusted cohorts. Kaspar’s been acting strange, his visits to the capital more frequent, and she’s searching for answers there.”
Erick looked both of them over, discomforted, but not because of them. He paced in the empty room, and beside Damien, Amma stayed quiet, watching, and like she knew he would, he spoke again.
“Buckhead has always been, shall we say, separate from the rest of the realm. We provide for ourselves, we ask nothing, and we only give what we must to avoid aggression. Kaspar has challenged that thinking. He’s even had nasty things to say about the Throkulls. Their blood is in his veins,”—a sharpness rose in his voice as he glared at the floor and paced—“yet he seeks to cut ties and expand the realm under the crown’s direction, to claim the plains and the mountains under their banner.”
“Is your brother in Eirengaard now too?” Amma asked.
Erick shook his head. “He’s off hunting in the Throkull plains. Refuses to allow me to accompany him, though that is hardly a change. Still, I’d like to find some way to quell his intensified allegiance. He is the heir to the barony, and our mother and father are increasingly interested in abdicating under Kaspar’s urging, but it’s…well, perhaps not something we should discuss here. Where are you staying?”
“We don’t have a room anywhere,” she said a bit too eagerly.
“Yes, you do. It would be unwise for you to come to the keep; my parents would likely want to see to your return to Faebarrow.” He eyed her sympathetically. “But I have a place that I find myself going to escape my parents’ attention—it’s alittle much when Kaspar and Winnifred are both away, as if they suddenly remember I’m around and can be put to use in some marriage agreement with another barony.”
The way Erick smiled at Amma then really made Damien’s jaw tick, but he said nothing, and soon the man was leading them through the city.
CHAPTER 17
IN DEFENSE OF SELFISHNESS
You are sure this is wise?” Damien did not like the tautness to his own voice, the way he kept it hushed, but least of all was the squeeze to his chest as he asked, fearful of what she might say as they sat in the private estate of Erick Solonedy in the heart of Buckhead. He had left them in the parlor as he fetched them some dinner, a thing Amma had commented on being admirable because of course it was.
“We’ve been friends since we were young, and you heard what he said—he doesn’t trust the crown, and he never liked Cedric.”
Ah, yes, another positive trait to attribute to the cordial, generous, strapping man. “Right, well, he should have done something about that then.”
“He actually asked me not to marry him when he last visited Faebarrow.”
Damien bristled, fingers pressed together before him, and noxscura swirled about their tips. Before he could retort that asking wasn’t the same as putting a stop to it, Amma’s hand clamped down on his, snuffing out the magic.
“I know this seems dangerous, and Erick isn’t stupid, he can tell who you are, but he trusts me. I won’t tell him anything about the temple or the maps if you don’t want me to.”
The man in question returned then, inviting them into the dining room, and the conversation turned to pleasant things. No one asked Damien about his heritage, Amma and Erick regaling him with tales of their annual visits, speaking of his sister Winnifred’s brave stunts and broken bones, and of howKaspar, when he was more amicable, enjoyed running with them through the plains.
It was good to hear Amma laugh, to know she was not dwelling on what lay ahead, but a solemn realization settled on Damien as the night wore on: this was where Amma would end up. Or rather, Faebarrow was where Erick would end up. He’d admitted his parents planned to marry him off to someone from another barony, calling himself a spare, a means for power as a pawn, and Damien knew that Amma’s parents would want her wed to someone noble and wealthy.
It ate at him with the evening’s span, even when she touched Damien’s arm or nudged him with her elbow when she spoke of his deeds. She could beam at him and heap on all the praise in the plane, but it would account for nothing in the end, just as he had expected.
When the plates had been cleared and the three retired to another parlor, Amma gave Damien a look, and he nodded—if she trusted this man, then he would too. Amma told Erick she had something to ask him, but then sat in thoughtful silence for a long moment before lifting her head. “Buckhead Keep has an astronomy tower, doesn’t it? Could we meet with one of the mages?”
Erick looked as though he wanted more information, but was too polite to ask, instead giving Amma exactly what she asked for because that was what she did to people. He would have someone—the best and most trusted someone—there in the morning. He stood then, proposing they retire for the evening. His estate was large, though not as sprawling as a keep, and took them upstairs where the manor split into two wings, pointing out his own one way but taking them down a separate corridor full of empty guest rooms.
Erick’s friendliness was cloying as he smiled at Damien and gestured toward the chamber at the hall’s far end. “There is noone to draw baths or bring linens, but if you can manage on your own, everything you could need will be inside.”
“Many thanks,” said Damien, a hand on the door, eager to be away from him.
Amma slipped under Damien’s arm. “I am definitely jumping right in a bath.”
“Um, Lady Ammalie? Your private chamber is just across the way.”
