Justine raised her eyebrows, but from where she stood, it made sense. Their traverse over had been filled with rock fragments piled so deep that each step was unsure as the rocksground and slipped against each other. “They were able to dig it out?”
Karl shook his head. “No. They rebuilt instead. New homes. New barns.”
Justine stared down at the little brown wooden buildings below them. “They certainly don’t look new.”
Karl laughed, shocking Justine. The man could laugh? She had thought they’d walked any sort of humor right out of him. “Not anymore, no. This happened many, many years ago. Maybe four hundred years?”
Justine reared back, finally comfortable enough to give her real opinion. “And you still tell this story, even though it was four hundred years ago?”
He shrugged. “Not much else to tell. Nothing happens here. It’s the same families, the same goats and cows, the same snow.”
Justine took in a large steadying breath and turned in a slow circle, viewing the mountains, the snow, the scale of this valley. “And magnificent mountains.”
She could hear his grin in his voice as he said, “The best mountains.”
“The rest of the walk is downhill. We can go slower and still make breakfast.”
Was he trying to be nice to her? After this entire week of bloody death marches? “After that speed walk from the inn, you’ll go slow enough to actually talk to me?”
He had a fat grin on his face, which only made him look more approachable and competent, andhandsome, damn him. After what he’d done to her, he had the gall to be nice? “I notice you like to talk. I will allow this.”
“Allow?” Justine was about to burst into flames from anger until she noticed his eyes sparkling with mischief. Before she thought better of it, she slugged him as hard as she could inthe arm. “You are a complete arse.” Then she stomped off down what she assumed was the correct trail. After all this. After four in the morning wake-ups, after falling asleep at the dinner table almost every night. If they returned to the inn with time for her to have an actual hot cup of tea, she thought she might cry.
How dare he be nice to her?
He laughed and jogged after her. “Not many can keep up with me. I’ve been very impressed with you, Fräulein Brewer.”
She scoffed at him and tossed her head, but a warm thrill coursed through her insides down to her toes. He was clearly very good at this, and very knowledgeable—exactly what one could hope for in a guide. They walked in companionable silence for a while before she couldn’t stand it anymore. If she was “allowed” to talk, then she was talking.
“Were you born here?” she asked.
“No, I was born in Augsberg.” When she didn’t reply, he continued. “Which is in Bavaria.”
Justine had no idea where Bavaria was. But probably near here? She nodded sagely, as if she were a very serious student of geography and had not spent that time of her studies staring out the window, willing herself to keep still so she wouldn’t get hit on the knuckles with a ruleragain.
“You don’t know where that is,” Karl said, not even asking a question, but stating the obvious.
She was a terrible actress, but she was a terrible actress in some very beautiful mountains, and she didn’t care because the smell of the clean, clear air was still thrilling. She shrugged. “According to my father, Bavaria is neither here nor there with all the talk of war again. He was not happy about me gallivanting off to a disputed area.”
His back straightened, and his flash of pride was palpable in this serene walk. The tree line was still below them, but they were about to descend into the dark forest, where the groundwas almost spongy underneath the crust of old, icy snow among the roots.
“Did I offend you?” she asked, trying very hard to not ask sweetly, so he would not take even more offense, or think her completely empty-headed. Why did she care what he thought? She hated that she did, even though his regard meant very little to her, and was not at all consuming. “I don’t follow all the wars. There are too many, and after the American debacle, I have absolutely no interest in learning more.”
“Then you are lucky,” he said.
She glanced over at him before they entered the dim light of the trees. His mouth was set in a grim line, and he was profoundly unhappy. The path began to descend more steeply, and she tried to figure out what to say next. She didn’t mean to make him unhappy; in fact, it actually bothered her that he was. Why on earth would she be bothered about his feelings? She’d never been remotely disturbed when her suitors were mad at her for dancing with another man, or God forbid, fanning herself in a heated ballroom, leading them to believe she was sending secret fan messages mocking them.
Fine, she did mock them with her fan, but it was because they made these assumptions of her feelings and time. As if she couldn’t help but be overjoyed when the man with the persistent runny nose wanted to dance with her. Oh, he had money? How exciting, so did her father. If she could run a business or do anything, she would have money too. Look at her brothers. They were perfect idiots, and they were able to make a pound or two.
But Karl’s unhappiness felt very much like her fault. And it wasn’t based on assumptions of her feelings, but rather her lack of knowledge. Or compassion. Ugh. She hated feelings.
“I apologize for my lack of knowledge,” she began, not knowing where she’d end up. “It’s just, as a woman, I’m givena very small circle of approved topics to discuss or learn about, and far-away wars aren’t one of them.”
Karl huffed, as if he were balancing his prickly emotions and his compassion towards her confinements. “No, I must apologize. Those ‘far-away wars’ take place near my home. Not my town, but I nearly fought for the Austrians, and if I had, I would have been at the Battle of Königgrätz.”
Justine nodded again, knowing absolutely nothing. “I see.” It was a diplomatic thing to say, and might assuage his feelings, but she had no idea what that battle meant, or where it was, and frankly couldn’t have spelled it or repeated it back to him if he’d asked.
“This is not a battle you heard of? How is this possible?”
