Halverton took a steadying breath. “I have the finest soldiers in the country; how is it possible they escaped?”
“It wasn’t people, sir.”
“Not people?”
The harbour master looked at Aoife then, as though pleading for her help. “No, sir.” He took a deep breath, the rest of his words coming out in a rush. “It was a beast, sir, an enormous beast. Larger than any animal I’ve ever seen. It charged in the middle of the night; we didn’t see it until it was upon us, and it was gone just as fast.”
“There’s no such thing as beasts,” Halverton snapped.
The harbour master flinched, though he tried to hide it.
“Wild animals, no doubt,” Halverton said evenly. “Bears or wolves, working in a group, can do extensive damage and would seem larger than life.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“How long until the cranes are operational again?”
“It’ll take a few days, and that’s after we have the materials. That’s why I’m here, sir.”
Halverton stood. “We will speak to my woodward at once.”
The harbour master breathed a sigh of relief. Halverton crossed the room to Aoife and put his hand on hers. The sensation ran up her arm and buzzed at the base of her skull.
“I will see you at dinner, my dear.” He crossed to the door.
“What am I to do?” she asked.
He paused in the doorframe. “You are a lady now.”
“What do ladies do?”
He glanced back, the faintest smile touching his scarred face. “I do not actually know.”
Then he left her alone among the untouched platters of food.
***
The gardens were lush and beautiful, overflowing with colour, but Aoife was struck by how little here could be eaten. There were grow houses filled with cucumbers and hothouse flowers, but most of the land was grass and ornament. Everything had been reclaimed from the wild, shaped into order, and yet so little of it seemed useful. Why tend a garden that feeds no one?
It was all for show, like the house itself, a performance of plenty.
Tucked behind the main lawns, near what she guessed was the gardener’s bothy, she found a herb garden. It was the first thing on the entire estate that interested her. The beds were packed with greenery: plants she knew well and others she’donly read about in her mother’s books. Everything was thriving, neat and fragrant in the early autumn sun.
She spotted Tarrabeth. A few leaves brewed in a tea were perfect against a cough, and she’d been short of it for months. She stepped over the low border to reach it when a voice called sharply, “Stop! What do you think you’re doing?”
Aoife froze, then turned.
A gardener was standing behind her, spade in hand, his expression more startled than angry.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I should have asked. I only wanted to…” she trailed off.
He frowned, then sighed. “You know what that is?”
“Of course,” she said. “Do you?”
The gardener did not seem impressed at her attempt at levity.
“It’s Tarrabeth,” she said. “I’ve run out. Could you spare any?”
