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“Well, I have something interesting to share. Two somethings, in fact.” A darted glance as they moved up the walk toward the door proved that Leda looked pleased with herself.
“Oh?” Amelia asked, because she knew the woman liked to have an attentive audience.
“A letter arrived while you were out. From your mother. It seems she’s had word from your sister in Aeretoll.”
Just as they reached the door, Colum surged forward to hold it open for them. Amelia gave him a nod of thanks, which he returned with a stiff half-bow. He followed them in, and Amelia noted the air was warmer than it had been upon their initial arrival at the estate. While she was off scouting or dealing with her generals, Leda was taking the manor itself in hand: having hearths scrubbed, filled with logs, and lighting fires that chased back the early spring chill. The place looked tidier, too: fewer cobwebs, more suitable chairs dragged out from upstairs roomed and polished to a shine.
“Lady Tessa – pardon me, Princess Tessa,” Leda continued, leading them down the hall toward the library, “writes that the Northern King has decided on a march South to lend assistance to our efforts.”
Relief hit Amelia like a sucker punch. “Thank thegods.”
“Indeed. They’re awaiting one final lord, apparently, and then they’ll move in formation. The full Great Northern Phalanx – or what’s left of it after the siege,” she added in an undertone. “He expects it won’t be more than two or three weeks until departure.”
“Good.” Amelia went to the sideboard, pulled off her gauntlets, set them aside, and reached for the decanter of red, glowing like rubies in the radiance of fire and candlelight. She poured a glass and passed it to Leda before pouring one for herself.
“She also said,” Leda continued, voice becoming conspiratorial, “that the prince – not the one she married, but the other one.”
“Leif?”
“That’s it. Has left early, without permission, with a band of clansmen. She says the king islivid.” She sounded delighted.
Amelia frowned to herself as they moved to the chairs on either side of the hearth. “You’re sure? Leif?”
Leda settled across from her and fished a folded parchment from her prodigious bosom. “Here. See for yourself.”
Amelia had to set her wine aside and lean sideways in her chair so she could angle the parchment toward the fire. Light danced over it, and her mother’s tidy, faint script was cause for squinting in the golden dimness.
Yes. There in Katherine’s hand: Leif had – against his uncle the king’s orders – taken a troop of “clansmen” and “slunk off in the middle of the night.” Headed South, apparently, given he’d expressed displeasure in the last council meeting with the prospect of waiting any longer.
“Shit.” She picked her wine back up. “That doesn’t seem like him.”
“You know him?”
“Don’t sound so eager,” Amelia admonished, smiling briefly and earning a face in return. Then, frowning again, troubled in a way she hadn’t expected: “I feel as though I do – him and his whole family, thanks to Tess and Ollie’s letters. From what they’ve both said, Leif is one of the most level-headed, even-keeled people in all of Aeres. Calm, rational, thoughtful. He considers a problem from every angle and doesn’t behave rashly.”
Leda leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other, slippered foot swinging. “Perhaps he’s turned over a new, much more interesting – no pun intended – leaf.”
Amelia chuckled. Thank the gods for Leda Primrose; she hadn’t laughed this much since Mal…
Best not to think of him now. She firmly shut that door in her mind and said, “Perhaps. I know that something happened. Neither Ollie nor Tessa would saywhatexactly, just ‘Leif’s been through a difficult time.’”
“Injured in the war most likely,” Leda said, nodding. “That can change a man. Take young Reginald L’Espoir for instance.”
“Hm. I’m worried about him.”
“He was such a frivolous thing before. An empty-headed tit with a pretty face and far too much charm than was healthy.”
A shadow shifted behind Leda’s chair, and with a small, quickly-suppressed start, Amelia realized it was Colum. He stepped to the edge of the firelight’s reach, a hollow-cheeked wraith with a stern, disapproving expression.
“To be fair to Reggie,” Amelia said, “I think that was always an act. He wanted to fool us – all of us – and he did. He’s more himself, now…but also much more troubled than he ever was before.”
“Listen to you and your sweet concern.” Leda grinned wickedly over the rim of her glass. “Do I detect a soft spot in your warrior-maiden’s heart for the Lord of Hope Hall?”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “Oh,please. I don’t have a soft spot – not in the way you’re thinking – for anyone.”
Leda held her wine aside in one ringed hand, and leaned forward as though confiding vital information. “Darling.” Gaze and tone both firm. “You should always be open to a soft spot. Or. Well.” She winked. “Something a little harder.”
Amelia snorted wine down the front of her tunic which sent Leda into peals of elegant laughter.
