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“I know it sounds silly, but typically, when a servant is new, they ask for directions or at least ask ‘How do I get to the rooms in the east wing?’ Or ‘Where would I find the kitchens?’ Or they ask about the customs of the place to better serve those they serve.” She shook her head again, raising her hands in a helpless shrug. “These people do not. They look everywhere, and in every room, but they do not ask questions. And when information is shared, they seem almost… vexed. I stopped a maid from entering this room and she got angry, like I had interrupted her work.”
Swiveling on my vanity stool, I kept her in sight. “So not asking questions is… unusual?”
“Yes!” Her voice cracked with her vehemence, and I watched her, pondering her reaction. She wasn’t prone to anxiety, and I couldn't remember the last time she had been this upset. Maybe when Will dumped a whole bucket of horse manure on my best dress when we were children.
Bang!
My heart leaped into my throat like a startled stag, making me jump from the noise. “William!” Speaking of the devil, he did appear… I glared at him.
“Sorry, I don’t know my own strength. A smirk spread across his lips in an adorable mix of sheepishness and pride.
I threw my corset at him. It was an instrument of pain, after all.
“I’m joking, I’m joking!” Without missing a beat, he caught the corset, until he realized what it was. He held it up like a trophy and gave a courtly bow. “I accept your token of affection, my lady. I will win my next tournament for you.”
“Oh, shut up,” I muttered, marching over to retrieve my “token of affection”. “Why’re you barging in my room so rudely tonight?”
“It bothers Tannen when I slam doors, so I try to do it every time I see him on guard.” He shrugged with an evil grin, and I rolled my eyes.
Nidar save us from annoying cousins.
Will flopped onto the bed and I followed. We've never bothered with decorum in my room, and I loved the freedom to be myself. Will and Brex never judged me, which made me love them even more fiercely. I barely noticed Brex leaving for her room as I turned to Will. “Why do you have to annoy him all the time? He’s never done anything to you.”
He didn't say anything, just continued to stare at the ceiling. Both of us knew the real reason that Will didn’t like Tannon, he’d constantly belittled him for being a harold and not a soldier. Though it hadn’t been his choice where to be placed.
“What were you talking about earlier with Captain Marcus? Why was he upset with you?” I hadn’t forgotten.
My cousin blew out a breath that sounded like it came from his toes. “The Brural delegation has me concerned. What did you think of your time with them?”
I pushed up on my elbows. “First Brex, and now you?”
Intrigued, he turned to me, finally. “What did Brex say about them?”
“Nope. I asked first.”
With a growl, his attention returned to the ceiling. “There’s just something odd about them. I can’t put my finger on it.”
My brow tightened as my eyebrows rose. “Odd? Why? Because the women are probably better fighters than you?” I teased.
“Ouch! Way to kick a man while he’s down, Row.”
“Well? What is so odd about them?”
He sat up to face me, and I slowly joined him. The atmosphere had taken on a serious note.
“Think about it. They come suddenly and ill prepared, they don’t even try to fit in, and I’ll bet they haven’t talked about peace once, have they?” I shook my head while he continued. “Plus, I keep finding their servants in the oddest places around the castle. Doesn’t that seem strange to you? And why are we hosting a contingent, but haven’t sent one of our own?”
Hearing him list everything, I started to worry too. I hadn’t considered that, too enthralled with their custom of women using weapons.
William looked me straight in the eye. “And then, on top of that, look at what this says.” His hand pulled something out of his breeches, handing me an envelope.
I glanced at it and my eyes flew to William’s face. “Will! This is royal correspondence! Reading this, or even having it is a death sentence!”
“Calm down, Row.” Will’s hands rose in a placating gesture. “It’s not royal correspondence anymore.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, studying the crumpled envelope with the King's very distinct handwriting—the parchment full of smudges and even an ink stain.
“Well, I pulled it from the rubbish bin.” Will shrugged. “You can’t get in trouble over rubbish,” he reasoned.
