“What?” She frowned back at him.
“Where are your kin?” he demanded.
Warna froze. Her throat closed and the pain just swelled in her heart.
“Where are your protectors?” The elf demanded, as if repeating the question would make her understand.
Grief gave way to fury. Warna turned her back on him, picked up a soiled swaddling cloth, slapped it into the tub, and started to scrub. “My lord, might I ask what business is that of yours?”
“What?” The elf came around to stare at her, his voice as cold and hard as his eyes.
Behind her came the tramp of boots, the sounds of warriors and the human males gathering. “Lord High Baron Verice,” one of them stammered, and they all started talking.
Warna sucked in a breath, and kept her head down, eyes on her task. Of course, the lord of the land, a High Baron. Warna dropped the cloth into the tub, and swallowed hard. She was so damned tired, the pain his words had caused still sat in her throat, and come to find out she’d insulted a high baron. All she’d meant to do was steal a few moments in the flowers.
Somewhere, the Lady of Laughter was surely mocking her.
She glanced around. The Lord High Baron stood there, arms crossed over his chest, looking forbidding and angry. Everyone around him seemed to be talking at once, in both elven and common tongue.
She shuddered. She’d made this mess. It would be up to her to bear the consequences and see it right. Quickly, before she lost what she had left of her nerve.
She dried her hands on her skirt, slipped through the crowd, and knelt before the elf. With any luck he’d just lop off her fool head and be done with it.
The men around her stepped away, leaving her in a space and on her own. The babble mounted, but the Lord High Baron’s hard voice cut through it all. “Get off your knees, woman.”
Warna wasn’t that stupid. “I offered insult out of ignorance, Lord High Baron. I beg forgiveness.”
“Insult?” one of the men’s voices squeaked. “She insulted him?”
“Stand up,” Verice ordered.
The babbling escalated.
Warna studied the boots of everyone who was standing around her. She stared at the shiny black leather boots of the elf she’d offended. She’d hate to die without finishing her song. Maybe flower would work instead of rose. Flower, bower, power, shower. Cherish every hour?
A long thin hand appeared in front of her face, open and demanding. “Off your knees,” the High Baron commanded impatiently.
Warna lifted her head. He towered over her, glaring down. Harsh. Arrogant. Elven to the core.
Not much else she could do in the face of his anger. She obeyed.
“Silence,” Lord Verice ordered as she rose to her feet. His command cut through the talk around them. “Who are her kin? Her family?”
An older human spoke up. “Warna? She’s got none.”
“Warna.” The Lord High Baron’s eyes flickered over her, and left Warna cold. She lowered her gaze respectfully, her hands clenched in her skirts. She’d drawn his attention, and she swallowed hard against her growing fear.
“Warna is under my protection now,” Verice stated firmly.
Warna stopped breathing. The implications of that were frightening. The Lord High Baron’s men were exchanging glances that seemed at once confused, and resigned.
“You are all under my protection,” Verice continued. “Now, about your concerns…”
The storm of protest shifted to fears as everyone started talking at once.
All Warna could make out was the roar of her heart, cold in her chest.
It wasn’t the first time someone had expressed such an interest in her, and she was capable of dealing with unwanted attentions easily. But this elf had power and authority over them all, and he was not to be denied. She darted a glance around the crowd and caught the eye of one of the older women.
