He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice that he wasn't alone in the corridor until she stepped out of the shadows. He flinched in surprise, his hand flying to his weapon, then relaxed as he recognized her.
"Me Lady," he said quietly. "Did ye get lost? I thought the maid escorted ye tae yer rooms."
Nessa O'Sullivan stared at him with dark, haunted eyes. "I needed tae find ye. Ye avoided talkin' tae me durin' the feast—but if ye are tae be me husband, then we have much tae discuss."
Ansel offered his arm, and Nessa took it. "I'll escort ye back tae yer rooms, Lady O'Sullivan, but dinnae expect much else from me. We've been instructed tae wed, nae tae gossip in the corridors. Ye will do well here if ye learn quickly that it is easier tae simply obey."
Nessa made a slight sound that was almost a scoff, but not quite. "Ye thinkIhavenae learned that lesson long ago?" she asked, something desperately sad coloring her tone. "I, who was me father's only loyal child?"
"And yet yer father couldnae carry that same loyalty forward toward his king," Ansel replied. The coldness in his voice was harsher than he'd intended, but he did not pull away from it. He did not want to endear himself to this girl. She had suffered enough without trying to get close to him. "It's a wonder ye've survived this long at all."
Her hand tightened on his arm, but she did not pull away. They paced quietly through the corridors, both lost in their own silence.
"Is it true?" she asked once they reached the top of the staircase that led to her rooms. "Are ye the one who did it?"
"Did what?" Ansel asked.
She gave him a reproachful look. "Ye'll make me ask it outright? Fine, then, if ye wish tae be cruel. Are ye the one who killed me father?"
"I am," Ansel replied. He led her to her door. They stood looking at each other for a moment, and he saw the sadness in her eyes, so powerful that he had to look away. "The last thing he spoke of was ye."
Nessa let out a shaky breath. "I see."
Ansel paused. "How does it feel?" he asked. "To be betrothed tae me—to be weddin' the man who murdered yer father?"
She met his gaze, unwavering now. Coldness settled over her, her expression as stony as the walls around them. "Murder? Nae, Yer Highness. I ken ye killed him upon yer father's command. He was a traitor tae the Crown, and so he died. That's all there is tae it."
Ansel shook his head. "Ye allow yerself tae believe that, then? Ye'll allow yerself tae lie with the man who took his life? Tae mother me bairns? Tae take me name?"
Unsettlingly, she smiled, a cold, empty smile that left her eyes blank. "I'll do as I must. Just like ye. Goodnight, Yer Highness."
Ansel took her hand in his and pressed his lips against it. Her skin was cold. "Goodnight, Lady O'Sullivan," he replied.
Then she turned from him and entered her room, leaving Ansel in the corridor alone.
5
"We'll remove the sling, but ye still must be very careful," the healer, Patty, warned. "Though if I had me own way, ye'd be in it for at least another week."
"Ferda's arm has healed well," Neala said as she heated her knife over a flame to sterilize it. "It's best she starts usin' it again before she has tae retrain entirely."
Ferda beamed. "Listen tae the princess, Patty. This thing's been wrapped up for so long I'm nae convinced it willnae fall off when ye're rid of this thing."
Neala laughed as Patty tutted and shook her head. The healer woman removed the sling then moved off to fetch a herbal concoction. While she did, Neala took Ferda's bandaged arm and used her sharp knife to cut away the part most tightly bonded to the scout's arm. The bandages fell away, leaving behind Ferda's bare arm, paler than the rest of her skin but otherwise whole.
"It looks good," Neala said encouragingly. "Ye'll be leadin' the scouts in nae time."
Ferda smiled at Neala as Patty returned. She accepted the steaming hot potion that Patty forced her to drink, and gulped in down with a grimace. "Ugh! Are ye tryin' tae kill me? Neala, yemay be actin' as a healer's apprentice for now, but ye're still the princess. Lock her up for tryin' tae poison me."
"Watch yerself or I'll do worse," Patty scolded, though she was grinning as she said it. "And Neala's nae me apprentice. She's just been helpin' me these last few weeks with some of the knowledge of the Sparrows. It's been a blessin'."
Neala shook her head. "Ye'rethe blessin', Patty. Ye and the scouts and even Ben the cook—everyone who's shown me how tae get involved in different parts of the camp and show what I ken. I'm determined that I'll be useful. I've been a Sparrow me whole life, and now I'm here. I'll be more than just Cailean's sister."
"And so ye should!" Ferda replied, grinning as she lightly punched her shoulder. "Ye and Maeve are a formidable pair for poor Cailean tae deal with. I'm honored tae be a part of it."
The three women continued to laugh and chat as they finished tending to Ferda's arm, but just as they were finished, the door to the healing room opened. Maeve stood there, and she impatiently beckoned.
"There ye are. Neala, Ferda, Cailean wants ye in the war room at once," Maeve said. She paused, glancing at Ferda's arm, and smiled. "Wonderful work as always, Patty."
