And they all approached her. Word must have spread that she was in charge of planning the festivities at the castle. Every merchant with a slice of cheese, mug of wine, pastry, sausage or fruit wanted her attention. And that was just the food merchants. They’d the entire length of the market to go yet. Verice had the men surround Warna, but not close enough to hinder the merchants from drawing near.
Close enough to keep a watchful eye on them, though.
He’d have brushed them aside, or referred them to Ersal, but Warna...she seemed in her element, talking, laughing, eyeing the items and asking prices. No tasting - he’d put stop to that fast enough. Still. She was enjoying herself.
Verice huffed out a breath. It was a pleasure to see, but it was going to take forever.
“M’lord,” Ustov moved to his side, scanning the crowd as they walked the horses along. “M’lord, I ask forgiveness. That incident, back in the churchyard, it should never have happened. It was under my command, and I take full responsibility for—”
“Rest easy, Ustov,” Verice said. “You did well.”
“My thanks, m’lord.” Ustov frowned. “They moved fast, m’lord, swarming in and trying to cut her out and away from us. Almost as if they were...more than actors. I am not sure I trust those humans.”
And there it was, from the mouth of one of his own men.
“Master Zester has had a troupe here for many years,” Verice said. “I’ve no reason to doubt him. Still, we’ll mention this to Captain Narthing. Forewarned is forearmed.”
Ustov nodded and drifted back toward the rear, leaving Verice to his own, uncomfortable thoughts.
Dorne’s words pricked at his conscence. In the past, he’d striven to be fair to all his people, human, elven, mixed. But now, especially since the attack, he wondered if that was true. How much of his suspicion of the actors was because the majority of the company was human?
He’d been about to deny Zester, until he’d seen Dorne standing there. True, it paid to keep one’s friends close, and one’s enemies closer, but he’d seen no wisdom in inviting a troupe of humans into the walls. But was that more because they were humans than anything else?
He’d tried to ensure equal justice in his courts for all and sundry, but he hadn’t allowed a human within the walls of his castle for many years. Not until he’d carried Warna within the gate in his arms. That was an ugliness within him that he truly did not wish to see, and could not ignore.
They’d passed through the food merchants, and were entering the cloth and leather-workers. People were running into the street with bolts of cloth, and waving lace and ribbons. Warna’s horse shied a bit, but she got her under control. “Here, now,” Warna called out. “Mind yourselves around the horses.”
Verice moved up then, to ride beside her, frowning at the various men and women. They backed off a bit, still trying to get Warna’s attention. One in particular had a bolt of velvet, as blue as the sky itself. “A new dress for the dancing, m’lady! I can have it done in a trice!”
Warna just laughed, and shook her head.
Verice frowned as they moved past the man. “You should have new dresses, for the festivities,” he was thinking out loud. “Not to mention jewelry. I’ve some diamonds that you could wear, but you may wish to buy something—”
“No,” Warna said.
“But,” Verice was startled at the look on her face.
“I’ll take nothing from you but what I need,” Warna said firmly. “And nothing more than what my lidded basket contains when I leave.”
Verice’s heart turned to stone.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Her words and her tone struck like a knife, but he kept his face blank. “I meant no offense,” he said quietly.
“None taken,” Warna had stopped her horse to take up a spool of ribbon, running it through her fingers. She appeared to be inspecting it closely, but Verice saw her glance his way. She smiled at the merchant and handed it back. “Please be sure to approach the seneschal, and tell him that Warna asked to see your wares.”
The faelle’s face lit with delight. “Bless you, m’lady,” she called as she retreated from the crowd.
Warna started her horse forward, giving him another glance. “But when I leave—”
“We can discuss that another time,” Verice said, casting a glance around them before he looked at her again.
Warna nodded her understanding.
“As my betrothed, you represent Tassinic when you sit beside me on the high seat,” Verice continued, keeping his voice low. “It would be a topic of discussion if you were not suitably clothed.”
They continued on in silence, with Warna outwardly admiring the items being shown to her. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she finally admitted.
