“Anyone who has been within a mile of Bramley could tell you that.”
“You can dance a sarabande better than I.”
“I should hope so.”
“Neither of your daughters can paint—”
I burst out laughing, and then covered my face. “Do not embarrass me!”
“You can man a bird better than any expert falconer I’ve seen.”
I took a sip of ale to cover my falling smile—a stomach-turning flash of worry for Lucy. Otto pressed on, straightening in his chair and leaning toward me, voice growing more serious. “You were left in a tough spot by your dead husband. You have no money or means, but present as if you do. You’re resourceful. You’re stronger than you appear. You pretend to be one thing when underneath it, you are something else entirely.”
I was silent a moment. When Otto had made his list, I had felt shame, but also something else—tiny and alive, a little flame that flickered when it was named.
“You’ve had loss,” Otto continued. “Have you had happiness?”
I looked at the fire. Thought about my words before I shared. “My experience of happiness is that it comes in two forms: a potent dose so extreme that you are overwhelmed with fear it will disappear, or a subtle kind that envelops you with such stealth you’re hardly aware of its presence. Both kinds are defined by their inverse. Extreme happiness is measured and held against its potential absence. Contentedness is only recognized once it’s gone. Do they count?”
“Aye.” He nodded.
“Have you completed your report?”
“Your roof has fallen in,” he added, with a wan smile.
“When you first saw me, you thought I was a mud-spattered poacher.”
“No.” He shook his head and held my eyes. “That is not what I thought at all.”
We didn’t speak for a long moment. He reached out and put his hand on mine, firmly, on the arm of my chair. We were not wearing gloves and the feel of his strong fingers—skin on skin—felt so unusual, so warm, so reassuring, I did not know if I should lean in or recoil. My body was sore from a day of hard riding, and whether from the horse, or something else entirely, I felt an ache between my legs.
I moved my hand, abruptly, reaching for the ale again, wanting to dispel whatever had come over me. I was in a strange village in a strange inn with a man who was, essentially, still a stranger. The stranger from the woods. What of Elin? What of Lucy? How could I sit in a tavern and enjoy my ale? I could see through the small windows that the sun still had not set. “Should we continue on?” I asked. “Let’s finish our ale and keep going. They are getting farther away.”
Otto, still relaxed, still calm, sat back in his chair once more. “The horse can’t continue in this weather. And he needs his rest, or he will be no use to us at all. Console yourself, though, for if we cannot move forward, neither can Simeon.”
“I do not understand how he has gotten so far undetected.”
He sighed and stared into the fire. “A prince without a retinue is just a man with bad manners.”
Otto saw me to my room. The sheets were dirty and cold, but it had a wash table and closestool, and I was happy to have a chance to freshen myself. After I’d washed, I lay under a pile of blankets and quilts, looking around at the wainscoted walls and a tin plate of dried flowers that trembled in the draft like shriveled insects. A far cry from the dirt floor of a hut, and yet I found I could not sleep.
There was too much to hold, to turn over, in my mind. If the first day away had felt like a breathless, slow-moving adventure, the reality of what was happening had finally caught up with me. I hoped beyond all reason that Alice had found Lucy. I worried I would be too late in finding Elin, but also worried about what would happen if I did findher. What would Sigrid do if the engagement was broken? What was I to do when no outcome was one I could stomach?
I was certain I would never fall asleep. The thoughts were overpowering. Except then, suddenly, I was roused by a knocking at the door, and I realized I had been dreaming. I pulled my dressing gown on hastily. The knocking didn’t stop. “Who is it?” I called.
“Me.” Otto’s gruff voice.
I cracked the door. “It is the middle of the night.”
“The sun rises in an hour. And I found them. Or I think I did.”
I opened the door wider. “Where?”
“The innkeeper on the night shift pointed them in the direction of another inn, a few towns over.”
I sucked in the cold air. “They stopped here, while we slept? How is that possible?”
“We don’t know it was him for sure, but aye, it seems as if we passed them somewhere along the journey. They won’t be far.” He gestured back to the room behind me. “We must hurry.”
