“So, we need to find a way to honor the dead, and yet restore the Hall,” Dorne said quietly.
“Yes,” Warna said. “I’m not really sure how to do that, and I was hoping that you might know, or have some ideas.”
Dorne shook his head ruefully, his hands pausing for just a moment. “I have a few ideas,” he said. “Give me a day or two to think on it. I’ll come to the keep so we can discuss it in detail.”
“Thank you,” Warna sighed, giving Verice a questioning smile.
Warmth washed over him that had nothing to do with the heat of the kitchens. She was worried about him, concerned that he’d been upset by the re-telling. “All’s well,” he murmured, if only to reassure her.
But to his surprise, he found he’d finished his bread and kav. He felt lighter somehow, as if he’d taken off plate armor after a long battle. Something in his shoulders eased as he found it easier to breath.
Warna’s relief was clear as her smile widened.
Verice found his voice, “My thanks, Priest Dorne. For the food, and the assistance.”
“You are most welcome, m’lord.” Dorne turned to shove another loaf in the oven.
“We’ve other errands,” Warna said. “But if there’s no hurry,” she touched Verice’s arm. “I’d like to pay my respects in the Sanctuary. It won’t take a moment.”
“Of course,” Verice said and rose with Warna.
Dorne gestured to one of the cooks. “Show Lady Warna to the Sanctuary,” he ordered.
“I’ll meet you at the horses,” Warna whispered, and was gone.
Verice hesitated then settled back down on the bench. He watched Dorne work for a while, and the other man seemed content with the silence.
“You’re different from Dominic,” Verice finally said.
“In that I am not a pompous ass?” Dorne paused in the act of slicing a loaf. His dark eyes pierced Verice. “Or that I am human?”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“Both,” Verice said, meeting Dorne stare for stare. “It seems odd to me that you are appointed to replace Dominic when the hierarchy of your church is well aware of my preferences.”
“No odder than Lady Warna appearing at your side,” Dorne said dryly.
Verice bristled.
“Peace.” Dorne set down the loaf in his hand. “Lord High Baron, I know full well that while you do not follow our faith, you are not ignorant of its tenets.”
“True enough,” Verice said.
“I cannotreplaceDominic,” Dorne continued. “I have no skill at healing, first off, and second, Priests of the Lady are wanderers. We do not take administrative posts within the church. As you are well aware.”
“Yet here you are,” Verice growled.
“Yet here I am,” Dorne said calmly. “Taking up the loaf and the knife. Word came of a need, and I am here to serve until such time as a permanent replacement can be found. Someone half-elven, as per your requirements.” He paused, a flash of sorrow in his eyes. “As it is, I have some experience with planning mourning ceremonies.”
“I’d offer thanks again, for your willingness to aid Warna,” Verice said.
“But no apology for your obvious hypocrisy?” Dorne asked.
“Watch your tongue,” Verice rose to his full height, the bench clattering the floor behind him. His hand went to the hilt of his sword.
“Who else will confront you?” Dorne demanded, standing there, covered in flour and not backing down an inch. “Who else will make you look at your own actions?” The smaller man snorted. “Not to mention the fact that seeing you both together, it seems to me that you fear the pain you are already suffering. Can’t you see that—”
“Lord High Baron!” one of his men ran into the kitchen with the cook that had escorted Warna at his side. “M’lord, there’s trouble in the courtyard. Lady Warna—”
