“See what?” he asked.
She gave him that same look that had guided him through childhood and trouble and homecomings. It said she would not spend words on what his eyes should give him for free.
He looked again. Lady Bryden brushed a crumb from Erica’s shoulder and said something that made Erica roll her eyes, fond and put upon.
Unease flared behind his ribs. He did not have a name for it that would not sound like the wrong fear. He tore his gaze away and looked at the wall where the shadow line had crept higher by the hour.
There was nothing marital about this.
About any of this.
Lady Bryden stepped up beside Erica and held out the tray. The heat from the bannocks rose in a small cloud.
“Pick one,” she said.
Erica kept her gaze on the yard, buying a breath. “Ye ken how I feel about eating sweets in public, Maither.”
Her mother laughed. “In case ye have forgotten, we arenae in Bryden. I doubt anyone here cares what ye put in yer mouth.”
“They might,” Erica tried, half-teasing, half-serious.
“Then they can take it up with me.”
Erica smiled despite herself and took a bannock. The glaze stuck to her thumb. She licked it off and felt a small, clean pleasure she had not allowed in a long time.
The yard hummed with quiet talk and clatter. Grandmamma watched from her chair with a look that missed nothing.
Her mother shifted her weight to the other foot. “Do ye remember the tenth year feast in Bryden?” she asked. “The one where the fiddler kept losing his note and yer faither said he would rather fight a boar than hear another tune?”
Erica bit into the bannock and nodded. Honey and butter met salt on her tongue. “Aye. The kitchen sent out tablets at the end. We ate too many and couldnae breathe right for an hour.”
“A councilman muttered about yer size,” her mother said, mouth tightening in the old way. “He thought I didnae hear him.”
Erica laughed, the sound quick and easy. “Evander rose at once, voice sharp as a blade. I still remember what he said.”
“Do we nae all?”
“For a man with a belly the size of the castle, ye have a lot to say about someone else’s size.”
Her mother gave in and laughed with her. The memory sat bright between them.
“We were sent straight to our rooms,” Erica said. “But we laughed all the way to the passageway.”
“Yer faither did, too,” her mother revealed, voice softer now. “Later that night.”
Erica saw it in her mind. Her father’s shoulders shaking while he pretended to scold her brother. Evander sulking for show, then grinning as soon as the door closed. A plate of broken tablets in the middle of the bed, shared on a pile of blankets. The castle had felt smaller then, but safer.
Lady Bryden’s smile faltered. She lowered the tray a fraction. “Sometimes,” she said carefully, “I wonder if they are still out there. Or if they are even alive.”
The yard held steady, but Erica felt the ground tilt under the question. She did not let it show.
“Daenae,” she said at once. “They will be fine.”
“It is hard to hope,” her mother said. “Especially when the days keep passing.”
“We have nay choice,” Erica said gently. “We can only hope.”
Her mother nodded once, a small surrender and a promise at the same time. She lifted the tray again and adjusted the cloth with neat fingers. The movement had always soothed her. It worked now. Color came back to her face.
