“As to this assembly,” Verice said, trying to return to a reasonable tone. “How many of the farmers have you managed to gather, and who is likely to give me the most resistance?”
Pernard took the hint. “All of them have gathered, and I fear they are all resistant. They’re a stubborn folk.” He glanced at Verice. “Much like their Lord High Baron.”
Pernard was correct. The gathering with the angry and terrified farmers was as tense and difficult as Verice anticipated. But halfway through the questions and arguments, Verice found himself thinking about her. About the woman in the garden.
Pure humans were rare in his lands, and not permitted within his castle. Did that growling sound mean she was hungry? He frowned at the thought, causing the onion farmer in front of him to sputter and lose track of his speech. Annoyed with himself, Verice used the moment to cut through their protests and order that they take shelter within the town walls.
While Narthing was summarizing the scouting reports in detail, Verice found himself thinking about her again. Pernard was surely generous with food; it was in his friend’s nature. So, why was she hungry? She hadn’t picked the flowers, just sheltered there, singing.
Annoyed with himself, he forced his attention back to Narthing’s words and the damned maps.
Later, while inspecting the town walls and examining the defenses, the flapping of a flag caused to him to blink, and the sight of tumbling gold hair flashed before his eyes.
He growled under his breath, causing the warriors around him to glance around for the source of his irritation. Even more annoyed with himself, Verice walked on.
Finally, the day turning to evening, he stood next to his horse, ready to depart.
“Send reports regularly,” Verice said to Pernard. “Let me know if those farmers give you trouble. If I have to, I will return with more men, and—”
“Not necessary, Lord High Baron,” Pernard said. “On behalf of my district, I offer our thanks for your care and watchfulness.”
“Just see to them all, Pernard,” Verice said. “And have a care for yourself, old friend.”
“I’d remind you that sauce for the goose works for the gander, m’lord,” Pernard said softly. “Have a care yourself.”
Verice nodded, and put his foot in the stirrup. His horse shifted, and he gripped the saddle to mount—
—and caught the scent of roses from the garden.
He settled back to the ground with a thump, startling both horse and the warriors around him.
“M’lord?” Pernard raised an eyebrow as Verice turned.
“Take me to those humans.”
Chapter Two
Warna slapped another swaddling cloth into the tub of hot soapy water. Whatever else, she’d not go back into that garden, no matter how lovely the flowers were. The fear of being discovered was a lesson well learned, she thought as she started scrubbing.
As a child, she’d dreamed of elves and the Kingdom of Valltera, listened to stories about them and their magic. The reality was colder and harsher than she cared to think on. Although Tassinic was filled with more half-elven than anything else, not that she could tell the difference.
Children’s voices rose, reciting their numbers. They were gathered together with their mothers, laughing at silly rhymes. Warna’s fears eased as she scrubbed another cloth. So nice to hear, instead of weeping and tears. So nice to be worrying about laundry, rather than hiding in the forests and listening for the tramp of soldiers.
Warna grimaced as she reached into the hot soapy water and pulled out yet another swaddling cloth. Caring for the children had its pleasant moments, but this was not one of them. Still, it had to be done.
She scrubbed the cloth as clean as she was able, then added it to the rinse water. Lord of Light be thanked, at least they had hot water and soap. Amazing how grateful one was for the basics when you’d lost everything.
Warna glanced around the cobblestoned yard. She’d already covered every available surface with clean laundry, and she still had more to dry. Thankfully, the sun was shining.
She’d fled her home with naught but the clothes she wore. She’d spent months alone, hiding in ditches and the woods. It had only been in the last few weeks that she’d met up with others fleeing the devastation. They hadn’t been certain they’d be welcome in Tassinic, but the people of Anera had offered them such shelter as they had, cleaning out one of the barrack’s barns. They’d bedded them down in the lofts with plenty of straw and blankets.
It was supposed to be a temporary solution, or so it had been explained. But the conflict had followed them, and now Anrea had to see to itself.
The barracks were still filled with warriors, but they were gone most of the day. They’d shelter, food, and the basics, thank the Lord of Light and Lady of Laughter. The children were warm and safe for now. They’d learn their numbers, eat their suppers, and sleep in safety. And dirty yet another load of nappies for her to scrub.
She’d been brought in to this group, all the refugees sheltered together, but she’d had no time to get to know anyone well. The desperate needs of the children and the drive to survive banded them together for a time. There’d been safety in numbers, for both her life and her virtue. Warna shuddered. Others had suffered far more than she.
She slapped another nappy into the water. Her efforts let their mothers see to their children in these precious few moments of peace. If the day ever came that she’d children of her own, she’d teach them their numbers, and see to their tears, and hire someone else to do the wash.
