“She’s fine.Pleasedon’t make me go again soon, though,” he complains. “She wouldn’t stop showing me her antique collection. I’ve heard the same stories athousandtimes. And then I had to dodge a patrol of guards on my way back. I’m surprised I made it back before sunset.”
“She’s very proud of that collection,” Ruth says, and passes Will a napkin of cake.
It’s so surreal to see him here, with his mother, slouching at his own dining table, picking at a dent in the wooden tabletop and venting about chores. All the gossip and commotion, the way Bastion treats him like his worst enemy…it’s all very at odds with what I’m witnessing here. The thought that Bash could be wrong about so much doesn’t fill me with comfort.
Will lifts the napkin and looks at the contents with quizzical eyes.
“Where on earth did you get this, Farrow?” he asks.
“I…I know some people who had plenty of leftovers.”
“Well,” he says to Gill on his lap, “we must be grateful that Felicity fell down that cliff, then, if the end result is a mountain of cake.”
Cocky little—
“Will,” Ruth warns, with a fondness that I’ve rarely heard when my own mother scolds me. He shoots her a sheepish grin.
“Have you remained injury free recently?” he asks me.
“Somewhat.”
“I was actually thinking about you the other day.”
I have to catch myself from tipping my cup over and burning myself with hot tea.
“You were?”
“I heard Reed’s supply wagon was heading to Mithian from Hemlor. It’s en route through Lucan right now,” he says. I wait, unsure what this has to do with Will and his thoughts of me. I would very much like to know.
“Oh, wonderful,” Ruth says. “I hope he has some stock left. Queen Clover might buy it all up for her garden again.”
“What kind of stock?” I ask.
“Every now and then a trader brings foreign flowers to Mithian,” Ruth explains. “Do you know it? It’s a small village on the edge of the northern mountains, just before the border to Senred. The trader is old friends with the florist up there, so he occasionally loops around to drop some off.”
I frown. I’ve never heard of such a wagon.
“Why doesn’t the trader stop off in the citadel?” I ask. The queen is always promising the best deliveries of flowers in exchange for the use of my curse. Not that I can refuse her calls, but at least I occasionally get something in return.
Will picks a white strand of cat hair off his jacket.
“Funnily enough,” he says, “people in Mithian don’t have a lot of warmth for the citadel these days. The trader would rather travel all that way himself to ensure his products actually make it up there.”
It reminds me of what Pigeon said. That our royal family hasn’tbeen sharing as many supplies with the north of Alrick as they usedto.
“How far away is Mithian?” I ask, clasping my hands together. “Is it within a day’s walk? Do you know how to get there? When will the wagon arrive?”
Will looks at me with an amused smile at the corner of his mouth, like he’d predicted my questions. The strangest feeling washes over me, like gravity took a breath to lighten its weight. The workshop behind him is out of focus. It’s only Will and that stupid annoying smirk that knew I would do almost anything to get my hands on those flowers.
“Will, why don’t you take Fliss up there one day?” Ruth suggests. “You’re always saying you want to be more useful.”
My heart rate rockets. A day with Willoh Vane. A whole day.
“Sure, why not?” Will says, then leans an arm over the back of his chair. I shoot him a look. Is he serious? He’s actually fine with this? “If you think you can survive a two-hour walk without injuring yourself.”
Oh, there’s the witty remark.
“I think I can manage,” I say.
