Rather than mock the wobble in my knees, he said, “We’ve been in the saddle for a long time.”
I gaped at him before finally nodding my thanks, wishing I didn’t need his help and too tired to pretend otherwise.
A boy trotted up to us. “Take your horses to the stable, sir?”
“Please.” Remy tossed the child a coin without releasing his hold on me.
“I’m okay now.” I resisted shaking off his hand. “I don’t need your help.”
He released me as a flush darkened his cheeks. “Wouldn’t want you to stumble.”
“What I meant to say was that I’m steady. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” There was no rancor in his voice. No arrogance. No conceit.
When had his attitude toward me changed? When he’d first held Grace in the ruins of her village? When he’d spoken that prayer over the mass grave? Or had it been building gradually, each moment with the baby chipping away at his hostile facade? Whatever the cause, this wasn’t the sneering man I’d met in the clearing.
Zane remained atop his horse, and his eyes sparkled as if he was in on a joke Remy and I had missed. “There’s a garrison on the other side of town. I need to tell the commander what happened in Banvil.”
I didn’t want him to leave me with Remy, but I swallowed my objection. The two men had ridden all the way to Takir because I insisted. I could hardly complain when Zane took a few minutes to inform the military about a deadly raid.
“Give me Grace.” Remy held out his arms for the baby, and the expression on his ridiculously handsome face softened.When he wasn’t scowling at me, he was unbelievably appealing. The thought annoyed me. I’d told the woman in white I didn’t want him. Yet here I was, noticing the way his eyes warmed when he looked at Grace.
Zane relinquished the baby with obvious reluctance. “Take care of her.”
Remy rolled his eyes. “She’ll be here when you get back.” Then he opened the Waddling Duck’s door and waited for me to enter.
As soon as we stepped inside the Waddling Duck, warmth embraced us—coming not just from the crackling hearth, but from something ineffable in the very walls. Afternoon sunlight poured through diamond-paned windows, and the air brimmed with the mingled scents of good ale, fresh lemons, and something that might have been cinnamon bread.
Unlike the taverns I’d visited in Legacia, this place felt safe. Men and women sat together at wooden tables worn smooth by countless conversations, their voices creating a gentle hum of contentment. A woman’s laugh rang out from the corner—not shrill or nervous, but genuinely delighted.
I found myself relaxing for the first time in weeks.
Remy entered behind me, and a hush fell.
A gray-haired gentleman emerged from behind the bar, stumbling over his feet in his hurry. “Your Highness, welcome.” He bowed.
Your Highness? That explained so much—the conceit, the arrogance, the swagger. He’d been raised to believe his opinions mattered more than anyone else’s.
But that didn’t explain the man who’d buried strangers and gently sung lullabies to Grace.
I turned and stared at him, feeling a moment’s satisfaction when a flush rose from his collar. He looked … embarrassed. That was new.
“Please, Your Highness, what may I get you? We have the best ale in all of Takir. Sally”—he turned back to the bar—“a pitcher of ale for our distinguished guests.” His gaze traveled the full tables, and he paled, realizing he couldn’t offer us a place to sit.
A portly man rose from a table in the corner. “Gwen, let’s move to the bar.”
Gwen, a pretty woman with apples on her cheeks and a dimple in her chin, nodded. She stood, dropped a curtsy in our direction, then followed her companion to the bar. He offered her the remaining barstool before claiming the empty space next to her.
“Please sit. I’ll have the table cleared at once.” The man pulled out a clean rag and attacked the table’s surface.
Remy pulled out a chair, waiting for me to sit.
“Thank you.” It felt lovely to sit on a chair, not a horse, and I sighed as the kinks in my back released.
His Highness joined me at the table, and Grace, still held tightly in his arms, gave a small cry. Remy frowned and looked up at the innkeeper. “We need milk for the baby.”
“Of course, Your Highness. Right away. What else may I serve you?”
