I’ve grown so used to her pushing back against me that the lack of resistance leaves me off-balance, reeling and trying to make sense of this woman as she exits, the blanket cloak trailing behind her.
Chapter Twenty
Ingrid
Back in my own bedchambers, I toss the half-made blanket onto my bed. Not satisfied, I snatch it, ball it up again, and fling it across the room. It’s too light and floaty to be satisfying, but failing twice has taken the wind out of my sails.
What did I expect?
I know Xandril’s not the type to show overt gratitude, but is it too much to ask for him to at least not act like I made a mistake by caring about him?
Though, judging by his reaction, maybe I did.
He’s as prickly inside as he is out, and it’s my own fault for thinking that aiding his recovery might change that at all.
Truthfully, this is probably to my advantage. I have no way of knowing what he bargained for with the Dealmaker, but I can be reasonably sure he’s not thrilled about having a bride. It’s possible he’s as eager to delay the whole process as I am.
I’m hard-pressed to find another explanation for his actions.
“Whole castle’s buzzing about the king’s recovery,” Morwen says when she brings me dinner that night. “Everyone’s wondering if it means the throne’s accepted him.”
She looks to me with a question in her eyes, as if I’m privy to information she’s not.
I shrug. “The king shares little with me,” I say, hearing the sour tone in my voice.“Have you any updates on the calf?” I’ve spent enough time thinking about my grumpy betrothed and what might be going through his mind.
Morwen’s mouth thins at the subject change, but she takes it in stride. “It’s doing as well as can be expected. Hasn’t shown signs of bonding yet, which is making folks nervous. If it doesn’t find a soulbond, it won’t stay domesticated for long. Would be a shame to lose it to the wild herd.” Her words show more concern than her voice does.
The dread and ache that settles in my chest surprises me. I’ve been mostly worried about the calf not freezing to death. I never realized there’s a possibility it might leave the stables of its own free will. After all we did to save it, after all the much-needed hope and joy that spread through the castle, that can’t happen. It’ll be a blow to morale that this place might never recover from.
“I know you have no interest in joining me,” I say, quickly eating enough of my supper to prevent any coming lectures. “But I’d like to go visit the stables. I haven’t been since everything happened.”
Morwen’s clearly not happy about the choice, but she also doesn’t look surprised at all. “Don’t get upset if they tell you you’re in the way.”
She means well. I think. But with my regular deliveries of scarves and hats for the grooms and stablehands, I’ve never felt unwelcome. I don’t have any knitted things to bring them this time, so I make sure to stop by the kitchens for a basket of treats—both for the staff and the ifrak.
Bundled up in my fleece-lined cloak, offering in hand, I head out to the stables with my trio of guards lagging only a few paces behind. It’s colder than I remember it being, the wind cutting like knives on my exposed cheeks. By the time the stables are in sight, there’s frost clinging to my eyelashes and I can’t feel my toes in my boots.
“Your Highness!” Visri calls in greeting, his arms full of feedbags. “Why aren’t you warm in the keep?”
“It’s been too long since I’ve shown my appreciation for the hard work done here,” I say, holding up the basket.
Visri’s eyes widen, his steps quickening as he hurries to set down his load.
“Are any of those gliidberry?” he asks sheepishly, pulling back the cloth covering the treats.
“You think I’d forget your favorite?” I tease, while other grooms gather around, quickly picking the basket clean of its goodies.
Everyone’s in good spirits, which is more than I expected from the way Morwen was talking.
“I was hoping I could visit the calf?” I ask, slipping into old habits.
The mood around me instantly shifts, tension taking the place of camaraderie as the other grooms slowly drift away, focused too intently on their snacks. Visri’s expression is grim, and he glances toward the stable that houses his bonded ifrak.
“I’m not sure Starcaller would let you,” he says. “She hasn’t been letting anyone close since giving birth. Not even me,” he adds, the lack of connection clearly weighing on him. The bond between rider and ifrak isn’t one I fully understand, but I know that it’s deep, like family, or even stronger. And I couldn’t imagine Phillip turning his back on me, how much it would hurt to still have to see him every day knowing that he wants no comfort from me.
“I’m sure she’ll relax once her baby has found its soulbond, but until then… She’s a little unpredictable.” He forces a bit of brightness into his voice, but there’s no doubt it’s forced, that he’s trying to be positive against the odds.
“I’ve dealt with my fair share of unpredictable,” I say, sidestepping around him. “I’ll keep my distance—”
