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“Conventions are not so stringent where I’m from. None would think it odd for you to be seated next to me.”

Where I’m from.For a moment, she’d forgotten he was, in fact, a Scot. Because his family lived just over the border, his dress was not so different, his accent barely detectable. But Terric was not an Englishman.

“Do you miss your home?”

Terric didn’t answer at first. Instead, he smiled at the maid as she placed a bowl of soup in front of him. The look the young girl gave him, which could only be described as besotted, made Roysa realize why the girl had seemed so upset with her. She liked Terric. As did everyone, it seemed.

“Aye. Being away from Bradon Moor for this long is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done,” he said when the maid finally walked away. “Though my brother has taken my place, we don’t always agree on matters. And the people here hardly know me, even though I’ve been visiting since I was a boy. But someday, this may well be my home in truth.”

“When your brother is ready to take your place.”

“Aye.”

“How did your parents meet?”

She sipped her wine, content to listen to Terric talk.

“The same way we did.” He nodded to Lance. “At the Tournament of the North. Although the circumstances were very different. She quite literally fell on top of him when a horse shied too close. He caught her, and apparently never let go.”

“Did her parents care she’d fallen for a Scotsman?”

“Would yours?”

Though she understood his meaning, Roysa could not help but blush at the idea of telling her father she planned to marry a Scots clan chief.

“Perhaps. Though less so if he were also an English earl.”

“Fortunately, it did not take long for my grandfather to accept my father. His unwavering support of him against King Henry’s machinations helped.”

“So you hated both father and son?” she asked, though it was a silly question.

“Aye. King Henry wronged my mother. And his man, a very close advisor, assaulted my sister. What kind of king allows such a man to serve him? And the son is obviously no better than his father. His cruelties became apparent nearly the moment his reign began. ’Tis what happens when power goes unchecked.”

“But there have been many good kings who have not abused their power.”

“And too many bad ones who have. A king is nothing but a man with a crown. There are good and bad men, and women, and they do not typically become any nobler for having power over the lives of those beneath them.”

Indeed. The same could be said of Walter, she thought.

Terric spoke calmly, but the tic in his jaw gave him away. Though Roysa did not blame him for his anger. She understood it, maybe even appreciated it.

“What of your parents?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.

Roysa hadn’t yet touched her own soup. Instead, she watched as Terric ate, ignoring the way Idalia and Lance kept glancing over at them.

“They met on their wedding day.”

Not an unusual occurrence here, but perhaps it was more so in Scotland. Terric seemed surprised.

“It was arranged, of course,” she said.

“Of course.”

“And more difficult for my mother, I believe, than my father.”

She peered around Terric and Lance to look at her sister. Idalia did not know of their mother’s past, and she’d not learn it from her. It was not her tale to tell.

Her sister leaned forward. “You’re speaking of Mother’s first marriage, are you not?”