“Well, I… I should hope that wasn’t necessary,” she said awkwardly. “I would not like that done on my behalf.”
She could feel eyes on her. Drat it all. She smoothed her face as best as she could and pulled the final tray of pastries out of the oven. There was some jostling among the men to get the last pastries as she scraped these from the tray onto the empty platter on the kitchen table. Rationed as they were, she’d been unable to make an excess amount.
Kerr set three of the men to cleaning. By the time they were done, the captain had gone off to bed, but the kitchen was no less full of men, who now played dice at the center table and shared a keg of Blackfell’s ale. Ayla set a pot of water on the stove for tea. Water was the one thing they had plenty of. She filled a tray with empty cups, honeyed a thick iron pot thoroughly, and looked for her cloak. It was on the back of one of the chairs, presently occupied by a one-eyed, gap-toothed soldier.
“My cloak?” she asked, nearly squeaking. The man glanced her way, then back to the soldier he was conversing with, shifting hisbody away from the chair’s back so that Ayla could take the cloak herself. She tugged it off.
“Isn’t that for us?” another man asked as she settled the tray into her hands.
“There’s more water on the stove if you want it,” she answered. “Thisis for the men out in the cold.”
Fire
Niel could barely feel his face. He moved periodically on the wall to keep his blood pumping, jogging in place or pacing back and forth on the portion of the wall he had set himself to guarding. His fur cloak was warm, but his hands, feet, and cheeks benefited little from that.
How much longer until the eleventh hour and the changing of the sentry? Too long. It couldn’t have been later than the ninth hour yet. He resisted, for the dozenth time, the urge to go inside for a moment, out of the wind, and check what hour-mark they’d reached on the candle burning steadily down in the hall.
The Kettalist’s storms had been a curse when he led his men through the mountains, but now he wished fervently they’d return. Corin couldn’t do much when swirling snows made it hard to see more than ten feet in front of you. But tonight, despite the brutal wind, the full slate of sentries were needed. The skies were empty of clouds, strewn with thousands of bright stars, the moon not yet risen.
He didn’t trust his brother. He wouldnevertrust his brother. He didn’t care that Corin swore up, down, and sideways that he’d changed; that Corin’s own knight-master had shown him how to live with “honor.” That Corin had denounced their father’s cruelty and asked Niel’s forgiveness.
Niel had no forgiveness to grant.
And it was damned fitting that Corin had gotten the kind, chivalrous knight-master while Niel went off to Hannes. He’d drawn the short straw, as he always did.
The scarf over his mouth and nose kept slipping. Niel tugged it tight again, clapped his hands together, and squinted into the wind at the sputtering torches and hearthfires far below him.
The door behind him slammed open, grabbed and thrown by the wind. Niel spun.
Ayla inched out onto the castle wall, the wind snatching strands of hair from her braid. She bent over a rattling tray of teacups, a teapot at the center. His heart squeezed. He forgot, for a moment, any bitter thoughts he’d been wallowing in.
He was lucky enough, in some ways. Ways he wouldn’t trade.
Mercy. She wasn’t even wearing gloves. Was the woman determined to catch her death of cold?
With a scowl, Niel strode to the door and dragged it closed, then glared down at her.
“What are you doing out here,again?” he asked. The scarf fell back down, covering only his chin.
“Oh, you’re still out here?” she asked back, her gray eyes wide as she looked up at him in surprise, the tea tray separating their bodies.
His retort died on his lips. If she hadn’t expected him out here, she hadn’t been coming to seehim.
Well, of course not. Why would she? He swallowed a flare of disappointment. Ayla wouldn’t be eager to spend time with Niel. He was so broken and twisted there wasn’t much of a man leftinside him. Butshewas soft despite everything she’d endured. She was coming out into the cold not to visit Niel, but to do kindness to the soldiers on the wall. They didn’t have enough men to provide the sentries with proper reliefs.
“Third shift runs until the eleventh hour,” he answered. “If you’re going to keep coming out here, you need to dress for it. Gloves. A better cloak, fur or one that buttons down the chest. I mean it.”
Hers was flapping in the wind again, revealing the way her dress clung to her skin. She was shivering.
“I’ll only be a moment,” Ayla protested. “I’ve brought tea, for warmth. Only you’ll have to pour it yourself. My hands are full with the tray.”
He stared at her for a moment, then sighed. As much as he wanted to scold her for putting herself in discomfort, he couldn’t help but feel grateful.
“You’re too kind for your own good, Lady Ayla,” Niel warned her. He reached for the pot at the center of the tray.
“I don’t know about that,” she demurred as he poured a steaming stream of tea into the nearest cup. As if she weren’t turning her blood to ice just to bring a little comfort to sentries on a cold night. “This seems like nothing. But the best I could think of.”
“It’s far from nothing,” Niel said. He set the pot back down and carefully lifted the cup in gloved fingers that were nearly devoid of feeling.
