“At mid-morning,” Narthing said. He glanced at his Lord. “Of course, it’s always a good plan to arrive before one is expected, m’lord. See what the real state of readiness is.”
“Just so,” Verice agreed. “And where’s Warna? She wasn’t in her chamber.”
Down the long row of warriors, a golden head leaned forward. “Here, m’lord.”
“What in the name of the Ancestors are you doing there?” Verice barked.
There was dead silence in the hall. Warna’s brown eyes flashed for an instant, and then she lifted her chin. “Eating breakfast, m’lord.”
The response was respectful enough, even if the tone was not. Narthing raised an eyebrow as the room held its collective breath.
“From this point forward, you take your meals with me when I am in residence,” Verice commanded.
“As you say, m’lord,” Warna leaned back, disappearing into the line of warriors.
“Constable, you have command,” Verice said.
Ricard rose crisply. “Aye, m’lord.”
Narthing stood, gesturing for the men to follow.
“We’ll return tonight,” Verice announced. “At sunset.” He spun on his heel, then paused. “Oh, and, Constable, see to our guest. She needs outfitting.”
“M’lord?” Ricard had a look of pure horror.
“Yes, Constable,” Narthing said under his breath, unable to resist a satisfied smile. “It looks like it’s going to be one of those days.”
Warna sighed asthe High Baron stepped out of the hall and gave the men around her a questioning look. “Is he always so grim in the mornings?”
She’d felt uncomfortable coming into a dining hall full of warriors, but by the time they’d seen her settled at a table and served, she felt more at ease. They reminded her of her brothers, rushing to introduce themselves, and talking too fast over their food.
“Grim most of the time, lady.” Erenfet, the warrior on her left rolled his eyes. “Quite the temper, he has.”
“He’s a good lord to us all, though,” Aeric, one of the castle guards on her right chimed in. “Treats all his people, elven, half-elven, and human with a fair hand. Even if he don’t normally let your kind within his walls.”
“Gwenwyth tea, lady?” Oines, the warrior across the table, held up a pot and poured. The tea had a scent, like flowers on a hot day.
“Eh, that’s not for her,” Aeric said, catching the cup before Warna could take it. “Your pardon, lady, but me mum was full human, and while she liked the taste, it gave her the flux something fierce.”
“You’ve half-elven?” Warna asked, studying his features. She looked around at the others, not wanting to be rude, but curious.
“Sure enough,” Aeric grinned. “So’s all of us. Erenfet, pull back your hair, let her see.”
Erenfet was in mid-bite, but he obliged, tucking his gray hair back behind his ear.
It wasn’t just the ears. Both men had pointed ones, but there was a softness in Aeric’s face, his jaw and cheekbones weren’t quite as sharp. Erenfet’s face was sharper, a lot like the Lord High Baron, but not quite as compelling as—
“Pure elves tend more toward silver-gray hair, straight as an arrow,” Aeric said. “Half-elves, well, ya got a full range of colors.”
“I saw elves pass through our town once or twice,” Warna said, although as she thought about it, she wouldn’t have known the difference.
“Tassinic as a whole is a mixture, lady,” Erenfet said. “Halves, quarters, whatnot. Not that it matters.”
“Even for pure humans?” Warna asked.
There was a hesitation, then Erenfet responded. “No, lady. Lord Verice’s law is fair to all.”
Something flashed in Aeric’s eyes, but all he did was pick up the pitcher of kav, and offer to pour for Warna.
