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“Thank you for the offer.”
I toss the bucket of grain next to him and pull up a stool.
“But I think I will decline.”
His smile fades as he waits for me to finish.
I look around the empty stables.
“There is no one,” he assures me.
“Although I do not believe she is complicit in her husband’s plans, Lady Hilla is hiding something.”
“As are we all.”
I forge ahead. “Whitley may have been stopped, but there were others in that dovecote to take up his cause.”
“The queen must remain steadfast,” he says, as if willing it so will make such a thing happen.
“With Stokerton now married to Moray’s daughter, their alliance has been renewed, and will help keep the Highlanders in line, I believe. But the Borderers . . .” I’ve nothing left to say on the matter. The borders are unstable, as they’ve been in recent years.
“We’ve more pressing matters than the borders.” Nathan leans forward, resting his elbows on both bony knees. “Hinton grows bolder. His supporters can no longer be relegated to the fringes. If Silvester gives him his full support . . .”
Since King Galfrid’s son died, his nephew has made no secret of his desire to be named as heir. None, including myself, wish to see such a thing happen. Like the Prima, Lord Hinton cares for one thing alone.
His own interests.
“Then we shall do all we can to see Lord Calderone named as heir.”
Nathan makes a sound of disgust.
“He is not a leader of men.”
Although I agree, between the two men, there can be no question which is preferable. Which man will serve Meria, and therefore the Isle, better.
“Where does the king stand on the matter?”
Nathan shakes his head. “None can discern, precisely. But these things take time.”
We have men, and women, positioned throughout the Isle, but that does not mean communication is easy. The opposite is true, in fact.
“Well,” I say, knowing I should return to Hilla before she wakes. “Craighcebor did not, at least, become another Saitford.”
Nathan leans forward and slaps me on the back.
“Well done, lad.”
“Lord Whitley,” I remind him, “is far from being the head of the snake.”
Nathan takes a deep, rattling breath in and then pushes against his knees, standing.
“Nay, he is not,” he agrees. “You’d best get back to your charge.”
“Aye,” I say, wondering if I should inquire about her laundered clothing or return without them. Father Aiken would indeed fetch her gown and undergarments.
But alas, though I took the vows, I am in reality as much an Elderman as Nathan is just a simple innkeeper. With that thought, I leave the stables and return directly to my temporary lodgings for the next few days.
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