Avoid him and the hunger that coiled low in my stomach every time he looked at me.
“Evie. Darling, you went glass-eyed again.” Lo’s voice snapped me back to reality. “What just happened?”
A question I wished I had the answer to.
I shrugged, mumbling something that could be summarized as nothing.
“Sure…” Lo sighed, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, let’s find Bram before I wither from suspense. We still need to tell him about the village.”
“He’s in the courtyard.”
“Why would he be in the courtyard? It’s raining.”
I shrugged again. We’d find out soon enough.
We shuffled out of the council wing, past the tapestries and down the grand staircase. A broad processional descent draped in dark blue carpet, twin flights curving inward to a central landing before merging into a single sweep toward the hall below. My hand ran along the cold marble rail as we descended. On the landing, a narrow opening gave a glimpse of the audience hall, its marble throne empty and lonely in the dim light.
At the bottom, corridors branched off toward the kitchens andstorerooms. A warm draft carried bread heat and wood smoke. Guards nodded as we passed. They didn’t like magisters, as though we were all competing for the king’s approval, but at least they respected us. Or feared us. Same thing, really.
Before us stood the studded oak doors that opened to the inner courtyard. They groaned as the guards pulled them wide, and the noise of the outside rushed in. Hooves, shouts, orders.
I stepped out, the air cool against my face. The rain had stopped for now, though the cobblestones still gleamed silver with it. My breath steamed as I scanned the yard for Bram. He was there by the stables, surrounded by guards and discussing with stablemasters who prepared carts and horses. He wore a long brown coat with the hood still up, rain beading off the fabric, his dark frizzy hair barely contained beneath it. Even under the gray sky, Bram looked like a ray of sunshine.
“Find an oilcloth to cover these crates!” he bellowed to a stableboy. “We’re sending grain to Bretannia, not soup!”
He spotted us. “Evie! And the scribe himself gracing us with his presence!” He bowed theatrically.
“In the flesh,” Lo said with mock pride. “How goes it, Chancellor?”
“Business as usual.” Bram patted one of the carts. “Grain for Bretannia at dawn.” He turned to me, his tone softening. “Did you speak with Tomas Brack?”
“Yes.” I hesitated. “Bram, there’s something we need to talk about.”
“Uh oh. That’s never good. Should I sit down first?”
I shook my head, and we stepped under the stable roof for a little shelter from any potential drizzle.
We told him everything. About the diseased crops, the dark vines, the dead goat. The mountain. I said I needed his leave to investigate, though really, I was simply informing him I would.
Concern flickered across his face. The plaguehad taken much from him, and even a man like Bram, who always carried laughter in his pockets, could still fear its return.
“Be careful, Evie,” he said quietly. “We don’t know what’s out there.”
“And that’s exactly why I have to find out,” I said. “I’ll question the farmers, see what they’ve seen. Maybe someone knows more.”
“Just don’t go to the mountain alone.”
I sighed. “Yes, Chancellor.” I could be reckless at times, but I wasn’t witless.
“Keep me posted.”
“Of course.”
We were about to leave. I turned toward the castle, the sky already deepening into dusk. All I wanted was to lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling until sleep or madness took me.
It had been a long day.
Bram called after me. “And, Evie, enjoy dinner tonight!” His smile beamed again.
