“He’d lost blood, weak as a kitten until he heard Narthing’s report,” Ricard said. “But the rage boiled up within him. He staggered to his feet, all the healers trying to stop him, and with a gesture he slammed every door shut, and commanded that no one enter the keep.”
“Of course, he then fell back into our arms,” Dominic said. “He’d used the last of his energy and his wits.”
“And when he woke, he ordered the entire castle emptied,” Ersal said. “It was insane, of course. We argued but—”
The gate horns blew, announcing Verice’s arrival. Warna started at the sound, they all did. Warna hadn’t realized it had gotten so late.
“Lord Verice must not see you,” Warna stood. “Ersal, I’d ask you to come with me. Please, the rest of you, wait here until the constable can see you slipped out the gate.”
Dominic folded his arms over his chest, glowering, but Warna ignored him. “I’ll send a request in the next day or so, for supplies for the Healing Hall. Over a period of time, as I see fit, we will see it staffed during the day, and then the night, and gradually ease into having healers in residence.”
She looked around the room, catching their eyes. “I will continue cleaning, and will send for you all gradually. Be patient.” She focused back on Dominic. “Or ruin all that has been accomplished so far.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Verice swung down off his horse, sighing with relief to be out of the saddle. He gave his horse a pat on the neck as the stable lads led him off for a well-deserved bucket of grain.
“That, m’lord, was brutal,” Narthing said, dismounting from his own horse with a sigh. “I’ll confess this has not been a day I wish to see again.”
“Agreed,” Verice said. “But we got the bastards.”
Narthing nodded, his smile reaching his eyes. “Birch Cove on the morrow, then. That’s the village on Island Lake.”
“On the morrow,” Verice said, heading toward his rooms. He peeled his glove off, noting that a seam had given way. He felt as worn as the glove, and wanted nothing more than to peel out of his armor and wash. He could feel the grit on his skin, and the dried sweat itched on his scalp.
He took the stairs two at a time, already attacking the buckles on his armor. It felt good to have tracked down those bastards. Bandits, raiders, whoever they’d been, they would no longer threaten any of his people.
Verice strode into his chambers, and called his aide for water and kav, unbuckling his sword belt, and hanging it from its peg. That was another thing he needed to see to; the edge of his blade. He’d hone it while he and Warna talked this evening, after dinner.
He stripped to the waist, and started washing. There was a tune running through his head, a sprightly one that he didn’t recognize. He started humming as he scrubbed his face. It would have been far better to have taken a long soak in the hot springs below the keep, but—
The keep was sealed.
Sealed because—
He stopped, standing with a towel in his hands, water dripping from his face and hair.
A cackle of laughter, a blade flashing through the air, glittering in the mage lights.
The pain washed over him, made worse by the guilt. For the fact that he’d forgotten. Forgotten the deaths, the betrayal, the pain.
All during the day, the chase, fighting, the return, standing here, he’d not once thought of the attack. Bitterness ate at the back of his throat. Ancestors, what kind of man was he to have forgotten—
The clatter of dishes in the outer room brought him back to himself. Verice dried off, and pulled out a clean tunic, feeling oddly numb. He took a deep breath before he opened the door to find Warna standing at the table, waiting by her chair. The table was covered with dishes and plates, all waiting for him.
“M’lord,” She bowed her head, with her usual smile. Except there was something different. Verice bowed his head back to her, studying her face. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, Warna looked as if she’d been up to mischief.
“Warna?” he asked.
“M’lord, I have taken a liberty,” she said, her tone and manner very formal. “I saw that the petitions remained untouched,” she glanced at Verice’s desk where the forlorn pile still sat on a corner. “I’d thought to have one of your clerks come and assist you with them. I sent a message into town, and one Ersal is outside the door awaiting your instructions.”
“Ersal?” Verice asked. He hadn’t seen Ersal since…
Warna stood there, her hands on the back of her chair, watching him patiently, looking half-embarrassed and pleased with herself at the same time.
“I would have gotten to them,” he said.
“I know,” she said, suddenly serious. “But it’s easier sometimes, with help.”
