Elowen was well used to the imperious way Bertrand treated his servant, and she didn’t let it distract her from studying Simeon himself as she remounted her horse.
“Do you think Simeon is all right?” she asked Sophia quietly.
“No, I don’t.” Her friend’s reply was immediate. “I’ve never seen him so affected by harnessing magic.”
Elowen looked around, making sure no one was watching her as she rhythmically slapped the reins against her saddle in a gentle but persistent motion. Ochre, well used to her, ignored the movement, but Elowen’s senses immediately caught the Dust it was stirring up. Harnessing it, she sent it toward where Simeon was mounting his own horse. Under her clandestine direction, the magic caused the stirrup to rise helpfully as soon as Simeon’s weight shifted onto it. The young servant’s movements were smoother as he moved into the saddle, and he cast a furtive look around. When his eyes caught on Elowen’s, his face relaxed into the smallest of smiles. Elowen wasn’t sure if it was gratitude or professional pride, but either way, it lasted only a moment before his expression returned to a neutral one.
“Be careful,” Sophia murmured, as always nervous of getting into trouble. She’d pulled her horse alongside Elowen’s.
“Don’t you think he deserves a little help and consideration after saving our lives?” Elowen demanded, also speaking in an under-voice.
“Of course I do.” Sophia sounded unhappy, and Elowen didn’t push the point.
As they left the watchtower behind, Elowen glanced back. The damage was considerable—more of the tower had collapsed than she’d realized during those terrifying moments of chaos. The top third of it was gone, the base surrounded now by rubble.
How had that much falling stone not created enough magic for a skilled craftsman like Simeon?
She could only be grateful Simeon had found a way to work with what he had access to. She and Sophia were lucky to be alive—although at the same time, she couldn’t help thinking that it was very unlucky that the tower had chosen the moment of their visit to fall, after being reported as unstable and potentially dangerous weeks before.
To Elowen’s annoyance, Bertrand drew his horse alongside hers as the group began the ride back to the capital. For most of the two-hour journey, she endured his comments about Sophia’s and her near miss—loaded with the implication that they should have left the whole expedition to the men—and his sly and borderline mocking comments about her upcoming betrothal.
It was a great relief when they reached the capital and he finally peeled away. Elowen was surprised to find the queen waiting for them the moment they entered the castle’s courtyard. She’d known she was dancing on the line of earning a reprimand by going with Patrick without asking her parents, but she hadn’t thought her parents would actually be concerned. She’d hoped they wouldn’t even notice, aware that they were spending much of the day in final preparatory meetings for the Siqualian delegation’s arrival.
Elowen wasn’t included in those meetings. It wasn’t necessary for her to contribute diplomatically to alliance negotiations with the Siqualians. She wasn’t expected to offer anything.
Anything other than her hand in marriage and therefore her entire life.
“Elowen, where have you been?” Queen Lisbeth’s eyes widened as she took in her daughter’s state. “And what have you been doing? You’re covered head to toe in dust!”
Elowen glanced down and realized her mother was right. Her gown was coated in traces of the watchtower’s gray stones.
“Do you tell me you were unaware that Elowen accompanied me?” Patrick asked, his brows drawn together as he cast his sister a disapproving look. “Mother, I apologize. I mistakenly assumed you’d given your consent for her to—”
“I was fine,” Elowen interrupted him impatiently, as she slid from her horse. “I was with you, Patrick, it was hardly dangerous or improper.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You are quick to forget that you were almost crushed to death by falling stone two hours ago.”
“What?” The queen looked aghast, her eyes flying back over Elowen’s form.
“I’m all right, Mother,” Elowen told her quickly. “The tower partially collapsed, and I was closer to it than I ought to have been, but I didn’t suffer any harm, truly.”
“Thanks to the timely intervention of a servant of Bertrand’s,” Patrick interjected.
Elowen glanced around, looking for Simeon. He’d dismounted too far away to hear their conversation, and as she watched, Bertrand approached him, issuing instructions she couldn’t hear.
“Good gracious.” The queen put a hand to her forehead, her manner distracted. Putting that same hand gracefully but insistently on her daughter’s shoulder, she steered her into the castle. “He should be rewarded, of course, and we will speak more of this later, but for the moment—”
“Byhe, I hope you mean Simeon,” Elowen cut her off.
“Who?” The queen looked lost.
“Simeon,” Elowen repeated. She glanced behind her, but Simeon, Bertrand, and Sophia were all gone. “The servant. Bertrand did nothing deserving a reward.”
“It’s natural for the actions of a servant to be a credit to his master,” Patrick informed her. “It’s appropriate for us to express our thanks to the young man’s employer—in this case, the duke—and it’s for him to appropriately reward the servant in question.”
Elowen gave him an incredulous look. “Who’ll reward him? Have youmetBertrand?”
“Elowen, this is no time to be gossiping about servants in the entranceway,” the queen scolded her. “You must get to your room and change at once!”
