I glanced sidelong at Thyra. Did Sigri have a crush on the stocky soldier?
“What’s the visit for?” the other, reedier, guard asked.
Sigri took a step to the side, revealing Thyra and me. “Princesses Thyra and Isolde are here. They’ve come bearing gifts.”
The soldiers began to bend the knee, but Thyra held out a hand to stop them. “We’re trying to keep a low profile. Hence the very small group accompanying us.”
“As you wish, Highnesses.” The stocky one inclined his head. “Do you require assistance?”
“We’ve got it handled.” Thyra approached the building’s door. “Sigri, show me where Ratha is staying.”
In the absence of Thyra, Brynhild, and Bac, the ancient whisperer was the de facto leader of those who stayed here. She would be able to round rebels up quickly.
The dwarf did as commanded, and feeling compelled to say something, I walked up beside her. She arched an eyebrow. “Yes, Princess Isolde?”
“I never asked you if your eye was feeling better—after the battle, I mean.”
Sigri laughed. “Aye, it really is fine. This isn’t the first shiner I’ve gotten. More like the tenth.”
I cringed, which only made her laugh harder.
“I grew up with three brothers, you see. All males who fancied themselves wee warriors. Well, I wanted to be like them, so anytime they fought, I did too. We gave each other many of these.” She gestured to the bruise.
“I see. Are your brothers in the rebellion?” If so, I had not put two and two together.
Her face fell slightly. “Not a one of them is walking this realm any longer. They died in the king’s service.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Fighting orcs or in other battles?”
“Two yes. The third was in the king’s harem. He was beaten for not giving some lord what he wanted.”
My mouth went dry.
“Don’t apologize again. You had nothing to do with it.” Anger blazed in Sigri’s voice. “But now you know that though I love Thyra and have come to respect you greatly as well, most of us aren’t only fighting for your family. We’re fighting injustices of our own.”
“I understand,” I whispered, and we continued on, each lost to our own thoughts, which I suspected were of three dwarven males gone too soon.
We found Ratha in her apartment, knitting a sweater made of bright pink yarn.
“Who is that for?” Thyra asked apprehensively.
“Not you, so don’t worry your little royal head about that. I learned my lesson there long ago.” Ratha set her work down.
“Thank the stars.”
The whisperer laughed dryly. “One of the younglings needed a new one. At leasttheyappreciate my work.”
“Well, we have something else they might need.” Thyra’s grin was so infectious it beat back some of the sorrow I felt for Sigri and her family. “There’s a carriage filled with goodies out there. Can you round everyone up while we begin unloading? Start with the younglings.”
The whisperer cracked a smile. “You didn’t need to do that, you know. We heard about the giants, and the deaths and such. No one was expecting either of you to come running back here to see us.”
“We wanted to,” I said. “Needed to get out of the castle.”
Stars, if that wasn’t the truth. I’d felt better after speaking with King Thordur, but the fact that Lord Balik was still ignoring us remained. It was nice to leave his castle, to breathe fresh air, and help others.
“I’ll get them outside,” Ratha said.
With our Valkyrja in tow we rushed back outside. We’d only just pulled the largest cakes from the carriage when a rush of younglings burst from the apartment buildings.
