For a moment, she considered remaining by the standing stones and practicing her stance as Adam had suggested. But must she remain in the mist to do so?
Nay.She could practice standing up equally well in the warmth of the hall.
Esme wandered back, using the fake sword as a sort of walking stick to aid her over the uneven ground. Her actions put her in mind of Jonah, and when she encountered her brother in the great hall, her smile was genuine.
“Good morn, brother.” She removed Frida’s cloak and hung it on the back of a chair.
Jonah was seated at the trestle table, munching his way through a trencher of cold meats and fruit. He eyed her with interest.
“Where have you been in such foul weather?”
“Learning to fight with a sword,” she answered nonchalantly, propping the stick by the window seat.
“Or with a stick?” He raised his blond eyebrows, questioningly. His hair was neatly combed, and he wore a freshly laundered tunic of green and gold, the colors of Wolvesley.
“I must start somewhere. I was not fortunate enough to have a fencing master assigned to me in childhood.”
“I see.” Jonah popped a glistening grape into his mouth.
“’Tis nice to see you,” Esme said pointedly.
“I am feeling more myself.” Jonah sat back in the wooden chair, a smile playing about his lips. “This may not be your only opportunity to converse with me this day.”
“Praise be.”
Her quip made her brother smile more widely. Esme stepped up to the table and tore off a hunk of fresh bread.
“You are looking mighty pleased with yourself,” he remarked, watching her closely with his blue eyes.
“’Tis the fresh air and exercise.”
“’Tis the company you keep, I think.”
Esme stilled in the action of pulling out a chair for herself. “What can you mean?”
“Callum’s warrior friend. Adam is his name. As you know well, sister dear.”
Why are my cheeks becoming flushed?
“I must pass my days somehow.” She shrugged.
“Games of chess. Sword fighting.” When Esme pouted at him, he chuckled quietly. “There is much I can hear from my position in the solar. Much I can see through the window.”
“Oh.” Esme considered what she had said about Jonah that night by the fire with Adam. ’Twas naught that she would not willingly say face to face.
Except the part about her allowing him to win at chess.
“You have been enjoying yourself,” he said accusingly.
“I have been bored half to death,” she retorted. “Why must you shut yourself away, day after day?”
Jonah’s expression became fixed. “You would not understand.”
“Try me.” Esme abandoned her heel of bread and leaned over the table toward him, raising her eyebrows expectantly.
Jonah sighed. “What would my beautiful little sister know of unrequited love?”
She was glad she was no longer eating, for she might have choked.
