Lissy makes a sound I have never heard a person, human or otherwise, make.
“Mornin’,” Grammy says. She sits across from us and reaches for the teapot like nothing is amiss. Then she lifts the lid and frowns inside. “The tea’s gone cold. Someone put a fresh pot on.”
“Grammy.”
“Mm?” her grandmother says serenely.
Lissy turns bright red all the way to her ears. “Grammy.”
“The mead was old.” Grammy smiles at my grandfather. “And the company was older. Beyond that, a lady keeps her own counsel.”
She pours herself a cup of cold tea anyway. My grandfather sits beside her, not across from her, and says nothing.
I have seen that man stare down a mountain wolf. He cannot currently look in my direction.
“Sleep well?” I ask him blithely.
“Fine,” he says to his cup.
“Those dryads make great tents, don’t they? Sturdy.” I drink my tea. “Not soundproof, though.”
Lissy kicks me beneath the table hard enough to bruise. My grandfather gives me a look that promises a reckoning in the training yard. Grammy laughs, a young, cackling sound, delighted.
Down the table, Brynna wordlessly passes Ysolde three silver coins. I decide not to ask which of the morning’s revelations their bet concerned.
Mirelle floats through all of it like she’s dreaming. Her engagement ring flashes every time she moves her hand, which she does often, accidentally and directly in front of everyone’s faces. The box Caden made never leaves her side. It sits beside her plate, and every so often she rests two fingers on the lid without seeming to notice, the way I check a sword hilt.
“We have so much to plan,” she tells the table for the third time. “So much to think about for our wedding. Flowers, timing, the guest list, and... everything.” She sighs. “Everything.”
Pa grunts into his tea.
I let myself enjoy the morning. If I died now, I would remember Lissy’s shoulder against my arm. The camp loud and safe. Mirelle glowing over a crooked box and a ring. My grandfather unable to meet my eyes.
Later, Brynna would come with the ledgers for the Voss business, and we would get to the bottom of what was happening.
But that was for later.
Last night, Lissy told me it was the best night of her life. Now it’s the best morning of my life.
I want to remember that I knew it at the time.
20
TORGAN
Three days later, I lift my coat from its hook to ride for Starling Vale.
That’s when I know something is wrong with it.
I stop with it halfway on. Harek waits in the corridor with the saddlebags while I stand there like an idiot, one arm in a sleeve, trying to name what my body already knows.
The familiar weight is gone.
The left breast pocket. I’ve carried the small glass vial there for months, and my shoulders know it the way they know a sword’s balance.
The coat came off the hook lighter than it should have.
“My lord?” Harek says.
