“Apparently I shall.”
Aldwin nodded once like a commander satisfied a tactical problem had resolved itself.
Then he glanced toward me again.
“Try remembering you are human while you’re here.”
Sixteen
HARPER
The household settled slowlyinto silence as the storm deepened around Thames. Servants banked fires lower in the great hall before disappearing belowstairs. The Baron retired at last with two final dispatches tucked beneath one arm and visible irritation toward England itself carved permanently between his brows. Somewhere along the western corridor, a shutter banged once in the wind before someone hurried to secure it properly.
I lingered in the solar after everyone else departed.
Mostly because I had no desire to climb into a freezing bedchamber while the storm attempted to dismantle the castle stone by stone.
The solar had become my favorite room at Thames without my fully realizing it. Sweet-smelling rushes covered the floor. Shelves of books lined the far wall. Candlelight softened the sharp edges of winter while the fire snapped steadily in the hearth.
I sat curled near the fire beneath a wool blanket with one of the Baron’s maps spread across my lap, though I had stoppedreading several minutes earlier. Outside, snow moved endlessly beyond the narrow windows like pale ghosts crossing the dark.
The door opened quietly behind me. Geoffrey stood in the doorway with one hand still resting against the frame.
He had abandoned the heavier fur-lined mantle from supper, wearing only a dark wool tunic unlaced slightly at the throat and soft enough with wear to look comfortable for perhaps the first time since I’d met him.
“I suspected I might find you here,” he said.
“You say that like I’m a mildly elusive forest cryptid.”
His mouth curved faintly. “You have appeared unexpectedly in my life carrying ancient manuscripts and historical knowledge. The comparison feels reasonable.”
I smiled despite myself and shifted the blanket slightly. “I was avoiding hypothermia.”
“A noble goal.”
He crossed the room slowly before settling into the chair opposite mine near the fire.
For a few moments neither of us spoke.
Outside, the storm pressed against the keep with low mournful sounds while firelight moved softly across Geoffrey’s face. Up close the exhaustion looked worse somehow. I could see faint shadows beneath his eyes now. The roughness along his jaw. One small healing cut near his temple I had not noticed downstairs.
War had begun leaving marks on him. The realization hurt more than it should have.
“You and Aldwin were arguing,” I said quietly.
Geoffrey exhaled softly through his nose. “We were discussing strategy.”
“That was absolutely an argument.”
“One can argue strategically.”
“That sounds like something a medieval noble tells himself before developing stress-induced heart disease.”
That earned me an actual laugh. Brief. Low. Gone almost immediately.
Geoffrey leaned his head briefly against the chair behind him, eyes closing for one exhausted moment before reopening.
“He thinks I should remain here through Christmastide,” he admitted.
