“You saved yourselves. I had little to do with it,” Sabre answers gruffly, pulling his hand from the man’s grip and gesturing toward the house. The rest of the family walks away, but the little girl stays, goggling up at Sabre while he peers down at her. The silhouette is quite comical; her head barely crests his knees.
“Yes? What is it?” he growls, supremely uncomfortable. I wonder how many children he’s met in his life?
The little girl throws her arms around his legs, squeezing so tightly he nearly falls off balance. She doesn’t utter a word. Nor does he. He merely hovers a hand over her head, like he doesn’t trust himself with something so fragile.
He gently pats her hair, once, twice. She unlocks his legs, beams up at him through a holey smile, then dashes away toward her family.
That fiery look in Aowen’s eyes melts into something almost wistful. As soon as Sabre catches it, she huffs and stomps up to the house.
Garred approaches, reaching out a hand which Sabre takes with a grimace. Too much touching for one day, I imagine. “My apologies, Your Grace. The Eyrie’s bursting at the seams and I didn’t know where else to take them. I know you’re not operational yet, but Mr. and Mrs. Harroway are both extremely skilled carpenters. They’d be happy to help.”
“We’ve got more than enough; we’ll make it work.” Sabre hooks his daggers under his belt. “Speaking of, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to mine. I’ll send one of the stableboys to fetch your kelpies. He’ll feed and water them before you head back to the Vale.” He whistles for Skadi, who lopes down the road from where she was supervising the knights’ exit and follows him back around the house.
Garred swivels toward me, and I offer him a warm smile.
“Miss Fitzroy.” He takes my hand and plants a cordial kiss on the back. “It’s been a while. Are you well?”
I shrug. “As well as can be expected.”
“Duke’s a bristly one, isn’t he? Was shocked as hell to receive his letter last week, telling me about his plans for this place.”
“Oh, no, that’s not what … He’s been very generous with us.”
“How is your search for the third piece of the Bannrhorn coming along?” He removes the harness from his kelpies, then settles the shaft on the grass.
“Well, yes. Very well indeed. I’ll have it any day now, I’m certain of it.” It’s not that I don’t trust Garred, but Sabre’s secret is not mine to expose. Plus, there’s a more important question I’d like to ask, one that’s been burning a hole in my chest since Garred arrived.
“How fares Sir Cathal?”
Garred tilts his head. “He’s not here?”
I burble a laugh. “You think Lachlan would’ve passed up a chance to intimidate Torvil’s knights?”
“Point fairly made.” Sabre’s stableboy jogs up to us, and Garred hands over his kelpies’ reins. “I assumed he was with you; I haven’t seen him in the Vale for weeks.”
I blink. “Does that happen often? Extended amounts of time between his visits?”
“Only when he’s done something to upset Desmond, who then shortens his leash. Desmond always wins.” I wouldn’t have expected to see the sneer on Garred’s face, especially not about the duke who, by all accounts, saved Lachlan’s life. “When he thinks Lahclan has strayed too far outside his influence, he likes to remind him of that.”
“Oh.” I fear I’m incapable of a more coherent response.
“May I offer you a piece of advice, Miss Fitzroy?”
“I’d be glad of one.”
He takes my hand, pats the back. “Go easy on him.”
I attempt to pull my hand away, but he doesn’t let go. “I’m not sure what you’re?—”
“Lachlan is a giver. He gives and gives and gives and gives and expects nothing in return. Sometimes I wish he’d be a bit more selfish. Demandmorefrom the world. Even if what he wants most will cut the deepest.”
What can I say back tothat?
Garred pats my hand again, then releases me, and I watch as his ash-colored coils disappear around the side of the house.
I stand in the front yard for a long while, contemplating his send-off.
The things we want most cut the deepest, indeed.
