“This is even better than my bed at home,” Turi said. “And you don’t hafta climb a ladder to get to it.”
The two of them ran around, inspecting every corner of the cottage, exclaiming their delight over everything.
It wasn’t a royal suite at Seaspire by any stretch, but it was nice and clean, and compared to sleeping on the ground inside a cramped tent, it did feel almost palatial.
Unlike our home in Waterdale, it had two separate bedrooms in addition to the main living area.
Papa would be spending the night in the healer’s cottage. While Pharis brought in our things and went to look after the horses, I did my own inspection of our new temporary quarters and helped the girls get washed up and ready for bed.
They were asleep before their stories were even read. I stood between their two just-right-sized beds, looking down at them as they dreamed peacefully in perfect comfort.
Poor babies. Their lives had been turned upside down, their days and nights mixed up, spending an excessive number of hours nightly on horseback.
It was a strain on all of us, but I felt particularly bad about dragging small children into the consequences of my mistake.
They deserved better. And there was still so far to go.
It made me weary to even think about it.
I built a fire in the fireplace and set the kettle over it, looking forward to a cup of tea. My thoughts of course were with my father, lying in a cottage not far away, hovering somewhere between healing and death.
We were lucky there was even a question. A few hours ago, I was convinced it was his final day. Now there was at least a chance, thanks to the Elven healer—and to Pharis, who’d found her.
He came in from feeding and brushing the horses after their strenuous ride up the mountain.
Spotting me sitting on the stool in front of the hearth, he smiled. “Looks pretty cozy over there.”
“It is,” I said. “You should join me. There’s a good supply of firewood, and I found several varieties of tea leaves in the cupboard. Isn’t this a nice cottage?”
Pharis looked around at the humble structure. “I suppose it is… as far as cottages go. You like it?”
I nodded. “It’s at least twice the size of ours back in Waterdale—and there are so many windows. My mother would have loved it. She was fond of windows and natural light. I never saw her childhood home, but she said it was much larger than the place she shared with my father.”
Pharis’ brows lifted in interest. He walked over and pulled up the other stool, his long legs comically cramped as he folded himself onto it in front of the hearth.
“You never met your maternal grandparents?”
I shook my head. “Mama gave up a lot to marry my father, including her family. They disowned her for marrying a poor blacksmith instead of a lord from her own region. Papa always said he ‘married up.’”
“So your mother’s family was wealthy?” Pharis asked.
“I’m not sure how wealthy they were, but she had tutors, like you did.”
I made him a cup of tea, handing it to him.
“And she owned a lot of books. When she married my father and left her home, she brought some with her. She taught me to read.”
“So in a way, you had tutors, too,” Pharis said.
I smiled at him. “I guess you’re right. My mother… and then books themselves were my educators… and my friends and boon companions.”
I had to clear my throat which suddenly felt scratchy and absentmindedly rubbed my chest. How many times had I pressed a book to it after reading a particularly emotional passage? I missed my treasured collection.
“And you had to leave them behind,” Pharis said, reading my forlorn expression.
I nodded, picking up the iron rod to poke the fire.
“When we get where we’re going, we’ll find a bookseller,” he said. “You’ll have plenty of money—you can replace them.”
