Verice awoke alone.
Warna wasn’t in the outer room, either, although fresh clothes and hot water were waiting for him. He stood staring for a moment, trying to decide if Warna had arranged that. And what it meant if she had.
He ran his hands through his hair, knowing full well that he’d broken faith by kissing her, and trying to remember why he’d thought that would be a good idea. Although he didn’t remember thinking so much as feeling...his body tightened as the image of Warna in his bed flashed before him. He remembered that all too well.
He needed to face her.
The thought made him sick. He didn’t want to see the betrayal in her eyes, or worse, the scorn. For violating her trust, breaking his promise of—
A knock at the door, and one of the serving lads peeked in, balancing a tray. “M’lord?”
Verice gestured him in, arching an eyebrow at the hot kav and breakfast. “You must have been sitting outside the door.”
The lad nodded, intent on his task of delivering the tray to the table. “M’lady’s orders. ‘Let him sleep, feed him, then tell him Captain Narthing is asking for him.’” The lad set the tray down with a satisfied sigh.
So...he wasn’t the only one who wished to avoid the issue. Or at least, avoid him.
Verice sent the lad off. He poured some kav, hot and strong, and tore at some of the bread, leaving the rest of the food untouched.
He washed, changed, stomped into his boots, and belted on his weapons. Best to find her and apologize.
Before he lost his nerve.
Chapter Thirty-One
Verice blinked as he stepped into the courtyard, the sunlight hitting his eyes. He’d slept later than he’d thought.
Brindle appeared beside him, followed by the rest of the pack. He whined, shoving his nose into Verice’s hand, looking for attention. Verice knelt, and scratched his ears, glad for an excuse to pause for a moment.
The courtyard was quite the contrast from the night before. The dead bodies were gone. The whole place hummed with activity. Wagons rumbled through the main gates, filled with supplies. A few were stopped in front of the Healing Hall, unloading supplies. Other wagons clustered in front of the buttery and ovens. Men were unloading barrels and crates, heaving sides of beef on to their shoulders, calling to one another over the noise. Smoke was rising from chimneys long cold. It felt oddly...normal.
“Hup, hup,” Verice said, getting the dogs’ attention. He took a moment to concentrate on each of the dogs, checking them over, talking to each one in low tones, even as he glanced around the courtyard. They all gathered around him, vying for his attention. Sand and Gray weren’t there, but he knew where they’d be.
He feared to look at the keep itself, but steeled himself enough to take a quick glance. The doors were all closed, the windows dark. He breathed then, feeling the fool. He’d have known if any had entered, after all. But it stood, silent and dark.
Warna had kept her word.
Warna…
He rose then, looking around, and found the constable at his side, waiting.
“All’s well?” Verice asked.
“Well enough.” Ricard said. “The men have secured Birch Cove, or what’s left of it. They report that the remaining bandits have retreated over the border, and they did not pursue.” His expression of disapproval told Verice what he thought of that order. “We’ve managed to get the villagers all fed and seen to. Captain Narthing is awake, and waiting to speak to you. He and Priest Dominic are going at it something fierce.” Ricard grinned. “Last I left, Dominic was threatening to tie him to the bed.”
“Warna?” Verice asked.
“She’s got the women from Birch Cove helping her scrub down the Third barracks.” Ricard rumbled, he raised an eyebrow and gestured in that direction. “Walk as we talk, m’lord?”
Verice nodded, and the dogs paced with them.
“M’lady said we need the sleeping space,” Ricard said as they made their way past the keep. “She’s ordered the buttery, ovens and laundry opened, because the barracks kitchens won’t be able to handle much more work than what they’ve already got.” Ricard pointed to the wagons. “We’ve got food and supplies coming in, but m’lord,” and here the man hesitated.
Verice raised an eyebrow, inviting him to continue.
“M’lord, you’ll be needing to name a seneschal and fairly quick,” Ricard said apologetically. “I can handle it for a while, but you need a man on it to keep it running smooth.”
Verice nodded.
