There was a gasp, a flash of movement.
Verice paused in mid-step. “Forgive me, lady. I didn’t mean to—”
The rose bush trembled and petals fell to the ground as the faella jumped up, and darted past him. He had a glimpse of tattered skirt, tunic and head scarf all of faded dull color as she fled. She was headed for the apple tree.
The warrior in him rose and gave chase, his long legs eating up the gap between them. She’d grabbed for the lowest limb and pulled herself up, rose petals falling from her skirt. He reached up, capturing her ankle.
She looked down, her brown eyes wide. Her scarf caught in the branches, and her blonde hair tumbled down around her.
Ancestors, this was no elven lass. His singer washuman.
The very idea made Verice pause, slightly stunned. Humans were rare in Tassinic, despite it being a Barony of a human kingdom. She was pure human, from the looks of her ears. Her brown eyes were large and startled, with flecks of gold in their lovely depths.
“Who are you?” he demanded as she tried to kick her leg free. He held her easily, her skin warm against his hand.
She froze, her lips parted...and then her stomach growled loudly. She flushed and dropped her gaze, golden lashes against her cheek.
Verice felt the loss.
A clatter came from the garden entrance. Two servants were wheeling in a cart, Pernard right behind. Verice turned slightly to call to him.
The woman kicked out, slipped from his hand, and vanished up the tree and over the wall.
Verice barked out a laugh, more at himself than anything else.
“M’lord,” Pernard called. “What do you think of my—is something wrong, m’lord?”
“There was a human here, under the rose bushes. A woman.” Verice turned to frowned at his old friend. “So much for the security of your walls.”
“Ah.” Pernard relaxed, settling on a bench and pouring kav. The servants bowed themselves away. “All’s well, m’lord. We have sheltered some of the humans that fled Farentell. There are not many, mostly women and children. It was to be a temporary measure, but with the news you bring, I fear we will have to make more permanent arrangements. I was hesitant to mention it, because—”
Verice frowned as he sat on the bench next to him. “My preferences are known, Pernard, but I’ve never permitted humans to be treated unfairly.”
“I know, m’lord,” Pernard offered a mug to Verice before pouring his own. “But with the recent attacks…” His voice trailed off. “I wasn’t certain how to approach you with the problem.”
“Well, give Narthing the details, and we’ll make such provisions as we can,” Verice said. “I’m not inclined to encourage more of them to come here, but I’ll send no innocents back into that conflict.” Verice sipped the kav. “What Narthing didn’t tell your people is that there has been a buildup of troops along the border with Valltera.”
Pernard sucked in a breath. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Verice said. “I’ve let my contacts lapse within King Barathiel’s Court, and my diplomatic inquires have been responded to with vague diplomatic answers.”
Pernard shook his head. “We don’t need this right now.”
Verice snorted his agreement. “You said you had something else to discuss…”
Pernard nodded, staring down at the mug in his hands. “M’lord,” he said slowly, not lifting his gaze. “It’s been months since the attack. Some of your other advisors and staff have asked me to talk to you about the castle and the keep.”
“No,” Verice said.
Pernard lifted his head, and Verice had to look away from the pity he saw there. “Verice—”
“No,” Verice said, and this time he let the venom show in his voice. “My orders stand.”
“You cannot continue in this manner,” Pernard argued.
“Do not think to presume upon our friendship,” Verice warned.
Pernard went silent.
