Satia sat, sullen and glaring. Mira hovered close.
“Well?” Plumestra asked. “Up, now, and a walk about the hallways. Or are you like every other—”
Satia grunted, threw back the blankets and struggled to her feet. Mira went to aid her.
“There is another matter,” Satia said. “I am appointing you Royal Nurse. You will oversee my child’s household.”
“No,” Plumestra said firmly. “My skills are not in babe-tending.” She hesitated for a moment, then added. “I would, of course, aid you in finding the best nursery maids and wet nurses.” Mira noticed Plumestra was watching Satia’s face carefully, as if looking for a reaction. “They may be of common stock, but will be loyal and reliable.”
“Of course you will do that,” Satia gather her robe about her, flinging her hair free of confinement. “Royal Nurse, I command you—”
“There. Well, that lasted longer than I thought you would.” Plumestra turned on her heel and headed for the door. “If you don’t mind, give me a few days to see to the last of those currently under my care. Then send your guards and—”
Satia drew a breath. Mira started to pull her knife, expecting the command—
“Wait,” Satia said.
Madam Winter herselfgreeted Guyik as he entered her establishment. The warm air of the sitting room surrounded him with the comfortable scents of supper, with just a touch of spicy perfume. The lady was a pleasant enough looking-woman, but there was a weariness in her eyes.
Guyik bowed low. “Lady, I am Acton, a merchant. I have been long on the road from Swift’s Port. Before I begin my business in the city, I would relax, dine, and have my cares seen to. Perhaps one of your ladies would entertain me for a meal and see to my needs?”
“Of course,” Winter said. “If you have the means.”
He opened his purse and offered her coin. “A meal, some company, and a week’s lodging?”
She nodded, took the money, and stepped back. “Come in and be welcome, Merchant Acton. Let us see to your comfort.”
In no time at all, he was in a comfortable, padded chair by the fire, with a cold ale beside him. It was early enough that there weren’t many other patrons, so quite a few women hovered about, eyeing him with warm smiles.
Guyik stretched his long legs out and relaxed into the warmth, just as any weary traveler might, and smiled back, but gave no signal to any yet. He’d ask one to join him eventually, someone cheerful and plump, who hopefully liked to gossip.
Madam Winter wandered over, gesturing for him to remain seated when he went to rise. “What news of Swift’s Port, Master Acton?” At his grimace, she smiled. “Not to your liking?”
“Nay, Madam, salt air did nothing for me, and all the music was sea chanties, and all the food, fish.” He screwed his face up in a mocking grimace and drew a laugh from her. “Edenrich is better for a soul now that the war’s done,” he finished.
Her face went flat. “Not all souls,” she said bitterly, and moved off.
Ah. Guyik settled back, satisfied. He knew well enough that it might take some time before he’d learn anything.
A slight ruckus at the door drew everyone’s attention. One of the woman was at the door, barring entry, glancing back at Winter.
Madam Winter stood in the center of the room, drawing herself up as if for battle. “Let him in,” she commanded. The woman stepped aside and a military man pushed his way in, the one Guyik had seen that morning.
Guyik’s interest perked. Perhaps he’d learn more quicker than expected.
“Captain Ussin,” Winter’s voice rang out as she confronted the man. “How dare you come here, after what you have done.”
“Winter,” Ussin’s face was red, perhaps from wind and snow-burn. “I had my orders,” he said pleadingly. “It’s an honor for Orval to be—”
“It’s not, and don’t claim it is to my face,” Winter snapped, her jewelry rustling as her body shook with anger. “The Black Hills are never anything but trouble and death for Xy, and you know it.”
“What else could I do?” Ussin asked. “I had my orders. If I refused to carry them out, another would have taken my place.”
“Better so,” Winter choked out. “If you could have seen Orval’s face when he walked in, seen what you’d done—” she stopped herself with a sob. “It will haunt me forever.”
“I did what I could,” Ussin said. There was more there, Guyik could tell, but the man glanced around and it was clear he wasn’t sharing detail. “I had to do it,” he continued. “I had to protect my men—”
“And yourself,” Winter said.
