Page 80 of The Sun He Buried

No restriction advised.

Ketill reads it over my shoulder. “If the count runs long, they’ll be close.”

He reaches for the slip. I keep it.

“Tell Baldr about the recount,” I say.

His hand stays open between us. “And the weather?”

“There’s no warning to give.”

“There’s a storm four days out.”

“There may be snow four days out. In winter. He’ll recover from the surprise.”

Ketill lowers his hand. He leaves me with the question he doesn’t ask.

The dinner bell rings before the figures stop shifting on the page.

A servant brings a tray and asks whether I’ll join my guests.

“No.”

She sets the meal beside the fire. The fat clouds over before she reaches the hall.

Ale blunts the lamplight. Thora’s grief keeps the room cold and far away.

Below, Solveih laughs.

It slips under my door.

I have it in the same breath.

I put the north-watch slip beneath the east ledger and turn the page.

Outside, the sky remains clear.

Chapter Nine

Snowpetal has broken one cushion, eaten most of a venison chop, and fallen asleep beneath the empty chair at the head of the table.

I think this means dinner is going well.

The cushion may disagree. It’s lying near the hearth with one corner split open and wool stuffing pushed across the floor. A servant tried to gather it. Snowpetal opened one white eye and put a paw over the largest piece, so the stuffing remains where it is.

Nobody has tried again.

I tear a piece from my bread and look toward the empty chair.

It’s taller than the others. Dark wood, straight back, no carving beyond a narrow band of silver near the top. There’s no plate in front of it and no cup, though every other place has both.

The room was made for more people than four. The table could hold twelve without anyone touching elbows. Baldr sits on my right. Asta’s across from us, close enough to reach me before I do anything she’d object to. Ketill sits between her and the empty chair, broad shoulders bent over his plate, burn scars bright where the fire catches one side of his face.

He met us at the door, found hot water, sent a healer to the bitten guard, and watched Snowpetal destroy the cushion without moving to stop her.

I like him.

Asta hasn’t decided.