Page 104 of To Touch A Silent Fury
I shrugged, trying not to let her shake me. “I don’t know my father’s birthspot, ma’am. It could be that he was from the border, near your plains.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And you speak very proper for one of them. Is it true you be killing babies in that forest?”
I swallowed, hardly knowing how to respond. The rumour of leaving the Moontouched children out overnight had to be left unspoiled to stop the Triad learning of the Sons, a whole tribe of Moontouched in the Soundlands, but I didn’t want to claim the action myself. “All the lands speak common, ma’am.”
She sniffed. “Most don’t speak it like you. All clipped and formal like that.”
“We have good ears for the music of things. I can pick up on how others sound,” I said, in a measured voice. The Triad cared for the Five, maybe referencing Mephluan the Muse would get me out of this odd interrogation. I could hardly tell her the truth, that my strange accent was Eavenfold’s doing. “Maybe that is why, ma’am.”
“Maybe, as ye say. And no need to call me ‘ma’am’.” The woman rubbed her hands on her already dirty apron. “We got the message from upstairs about you. You’ll be wanting the offcuts, then.”
I nodded, relieved the questioning was finally over. “Yes, please.”
The woman grunted, giving me a strange look before walking to the back of the kitchen. I had no doubt my answers would be known by all the castle staff within the day.
Still, she returned with a generous wooden bowl filled with gristle, offal, and some slivers of fresh meat. She passed it to me with reluctance.
I bobbed a small curtsy. “Thank you.”
She shook her head, wagging her finger in my face. “Now don’t be eating any of that yourself, mind. There’s a lady up there right ill. A Miss Francillin. She spewed her guts in the prince’s luncheon yesterday. I don’t want to get the blame if you come down with something.”
I hid a smile. Septillis had found the ingredients. “Of course, ma’am. Thank you for this.”
She waved her hand away, but I noticed the way she puffed up her chest. “Get on with ya.”
With the bowl of meat in hand, I retraced my route out of the kitchen and into the scullery hall. I trotted up the steps, eager to be back with my dragon once more. This was the furthest I had been from him, and I could feel it making me nervous. My head was heavier from it, my mind harried by worries. But each step I ascended loosened that mental burden.
I was two flights up, and about to rejoin the main hall, when I nearly collided with someone again. Guarding the bowl, I stepped to the side, my back pressing against the bannister.
The man I was about to hit looked just as distracted, his dark, auburn hair falling into his eyes. He looked up with a readily apologetic smile, and then he froze. I felt him scan me from head to toe, his blood eyes coming back to settle on my face and the beads that covered it.
I bobbed a curtsy. “Good day.”
“Good day, Vorska.” Langnathin pointed to the bowl I clutched to my chest. “Is that for him?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Good.”
We both paused, on unsteady footing. It had been far easier to speak the other night. Was it merely the hour, loosening our tongues? The secrecy? Or perhaps he had been drunk, and he regretted our conversation entirely.
I opened my mouth at the same time he did.
“Let me know—”
“—What are you doing here?” I asked.
Then I blushed. What kind of question is that?
Some of his former mischief found its way into his expression. “This ismycastle, remember.”
He referenced the other night, and my own words. Something about this felt different, though, with the morning light streaming through the window, casting his white face in a golden glow. I didn’t want to think of the prince as warm. I didn’t want to think of him as anything other than a plan.
I swallowed, not rising to his attempt at play. “Yes, of course. I am sorry for my rude question, Your Grace.”
He flinched, slightly, the smallest creasing of his eyes. “It is nothing.”
A new pause lingered, and both of us shuffled as two men carrying a keg between them stepped past us on the stairs.
