“Found her, miss?”
Remy gave a grim nod. “The village was destroyed. She’s the only survivor.”
The woman staggered, clasping the back of a nearby chair to stop her fall. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I have a cousin in Banvil.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Remy sounded as if he meant it.
“What happened?” The woman’s voice quavered.
We had the attention of every person in the taproom.
“We found nothing but burned buildings and bodies.” His gaze took in the entire taproom. “We don’t know who committed this terrible atrocity. But we will find them. Justice will be served.” He nodded at me. “Haven found Grace.”
“Grace?” the woman asked.
My gaze fell to Grace’s sweet face. “We named her. Well”—I cut my eyes at Remy—“the prince named her.”
“We need to find a home for her. She carries the blessings of the crown. I will reward the couple who takes her in and cares for her as their own.”
And cares for her as their own.
Remy wanted a family for Grace. I gave him an approving nod. Not that he cared a jot about my approval. Whether he cared or not, he had it.
The woman wiped a tear from her cheek. “Poor mite.”
My heart ached for Grace. She’d been through so much already. She deserved a family who loved her.
Obviously, Remy thought so too.
“My son and his wife can’t have children …” The woman’s voice trailed off as she looked into Grace’s cornflower-blue eyes.
Grace blew bubbles.
“What’s your name?” I asked the woman.
“Rhys, miss. Rhys Beaton.”
“We’d like to meet your son, Mrs. Beaton.” Remy’s voice was polite, unexpectedly so.
I lifted my brows, and he smirked at me.
The godsdamned smirk. But this time when I saw it, I didn’t want to slap the expression clean off his face.
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” Rhys dropped a curtsy and then rushed out into the bustling square.
“That was almost too easy.” Almost as if fate had intervened. But, given how much I’d annoyed the lady in white, I doubted fate was doing us any favors.
“You’re too cynical,” said Remy. But there was no real censure in his voice.
“Not cynical. Pragmatic.” Nothing had been easy since the moment Wolgen Smit had darkened Grandmother’s door. Why would that change now? Unless fate really was meddling. I scrunched my face.
“What’s wrong?” Remy demanded.
“Nothing.” I’d seen fate’s plans for me, and I remained certain that she’d chosen the wrong woman.
With a flourish, the innkeeper deposited a bottle of milk and a pitcher of ale on the table. “We warmed the milk.”
“Thank you.” I claimed the bottle and slid the glass nipple into Grace’s rosebud mouth.
