Page 29 of Realm of Thieves

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

“Happened a long time ago,” she says. “I was only eight. And you?”

“And me what?”

“When did you lose your mother?” she asks, coming around the front of me, her eyes gentle. “Grief can always recognize grief. The loss of a mother runs deep. Steiner believes that if we could look at the brain, we’d see the damage of when we experienced loss. Like a black blight on a potato. His words, not mine.”

As much as I appreciate the kind words and conversation, I don’t want to get personal.

“I was old enough,” I say, giving her a look to drop the subject.

She stares at me for a moment, reminding me of Andor. Then she nods slightly. “Why are you here anyway? It’s been a long time since we’ve had a prisoner.”

“Andor has a plan,” I say with a sigh.

“Andor always has a plan.”

“Do those plans ever work out?”

“More often than not,” she admits. “He just has an unconventional way of getting things done. Leaps before he looks. Usually lands on his feet. So what plan are you?”

I shrug. “Why don’t you ask him at dinner? I would love to know if this is another case of leaping before looking.”

“Oh, I’m sure there will be many more questions, coming from all directions,” she says. Then she looks down at Lemi, who has been watching this whole interaction with patient confusion. “Is he okay with other dogs? Vidar’s dog, Feral, often lies by the hearth when we dine. He’s not as wild as his name suggests. And sometimes Steiner’s cat, Woo-woo, will drop by.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Lemi should be fine with Feral. I’ll do what I can with Woo-woo. It’s not that Lemi likes to chase cats, more that he likes to be an instigator and get the cats to chase him. Either way, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen around the dinner table. Otherwise, I can keep him here in the room.”

Or I can try. The chances that Lemi won’t shift after me are low.

“What about shoes?” she asks me, glancing at my bare feet. “Do you need new ones?”

“I have the feet of a giant,” I tell her. “Yours won’t fit. I’ll just wear my boots.”

I grab the stockings she had laid out for me and slip them on, then pull on my boots that go up to my knees. Her nose wrinkles at first at the sight of something so dirty and utilitarian with her soft dresses. But then once I stand up she shrugs.

“Actually, I rather like the combination. Pretty yet rugged.” She gives me a soft smile and then eyes the grandfather clock in the room. “We should make our way down.”

“Come, Lemi,” I say to him. “Stay by my side like a good boy.”

We exit the room and step into the hall. I’m about to shut the door behind me, when the door shuts for me.

“Must be a drafty castle,” I comment wryly.

Solla doesn’t say anything to that. I want to ask about her mind-bending abilities but figure there’s enough time for that later. I have a feeling I’ll be spending all dinner fending off questions, not asking them.

We walk down the hall to the stairs and this time I’m able to sneak a peek down another wide corridor, one side lined with tall windows, the other with large doors spaced wide apart. I’m going to guess the chambers of the family.

Once we’re down on the main floor my nerves start to kick in. Lemi notices this and nuzzles my hand as we walk. Either that or he wants dinner.

It’s then that I smell it. The rich, hearty scent of spices and stewed meat wafting out from down the hall, making my stomach lurch in hunger. I haven’t eaten since this morning on the ship, and that was only a few dried pieces of salted cod.

Solla takes me through two open doors and into a massive dining hall with shining stone walls the same silver sheen as the exterior. There is one large table in the middle to seat a dozen or so people, and there are two more tables at either end, enough to hold a banquet or a feast or whatever rich people in castles do. Along the opposite wall are large windows framed by thick curtains that give a view into an orchard grove. The outer castle wall rises behind it, the landscape grainy in the dusky light. Some built-in seating is underneath the windows, the backs of the booths lined with draped furs, and a great fireplace with crackling flames in the center. Above are several chandeliers lit with thick flaming candles that cast an additional glow into the room.

“Solla, dear, you’re early,” a woman says as she bustles into the room holding a tray of stacked dishes. She’s short and round with a crooked nose and lively eyes, her dark hair pulled back under a bonnet. She looks both old and young, an age that’s hard to place.

She pauses slightly when she sees me, then Lemi, but then continues setting the places around the table. “I was told we had a guest tonight but I wasn’t expecting a hound, too.”

“I hope that’s not a bother,” I say to the woman.

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