Akarra landed in front of the main gate. In my earlier life I might have taken pride in the difference a month had made, in how smoothly I was able to dismount now compared to my first attempts, but pride was a luxury both of us could no longer afford. Alastair’s silence had begun to worry me. Feelings beyond grief pulled his jaw tight and kindled a fire behind his eyes, feelings I didn’t recognize and wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Our arrival brought Pendragon to life. Shouts from the servants who’d seen us land carried into the house, which a minute later produced the plump, beaming figure of the housekeeper, Madam Gretna, and the graver but no less relieved steward Barton. Alastair handed Akarra’s saddle and our gear to one of the stable lads with directions to have them cleaned and ready by morning.
“You don’t mean to stay?” I asked Alastair as the boy hurried away.
“The Vehryshi were right,” he said, and I realized as he did that it was the most he’d spoken at once since we’d left An-Edannathair. “We need to see the Drakaina. We’ll stay the night and start for Edan Rose tomorrow morning.”
He’d said we. Fear, sorrow, and uncertainty weighed too heavily on my heart to allow anything like a leap, but for a moment I felt the burden lift. He’d said we.
“Aliza, Alastair, I’ll meet you here at dawn,” Akarra said. She sniffed the air. “Dress warmly. The winds are changing again. The Al’eketh is rising. It’ll be a long flight to Edan Rose.”
Madam Gretna clutched her cap to keep it from sailing off as Akarra rose from the ground. “Welcome home, my lord and lady! I can’t tell you how glad we are to see you. We were beginning to worry.”
“Any letters for me?” Alastair asked.
“Indeed, sir,” Barton said. “Quite a number, in fact. I’ve arranged them on the desk in your study.”
Alastair loosened his scabbard harness and handed it to the steward. “Thank you. Send word to the armorer and swordsmith in Lambsley. I’d like to see them today.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Until they arrive, I don’t want to be disturbed. There’s something I need to attend to,” he said, and hurried into the house. I watched him go, the slow ache of shared sorrow settling deeper inside me with each footstep of his tactical retreat.
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but is the master well?” Barton asked.
“He’s fine. It’s just been a long journey.”
“I’ll ensure your chambers are ready.” He bowed and followed Alastair.
Madam Gretna stayed with me as I started up the stairs, feeling anew each minute of our journey in every aching bone, every sore muscle. It would take much more than a single contract to toughen me to the Riders’ life.
“If you don’t mind me pressing, are you sure everything’s all right, Lady Aliza?” Madam Gretna asked.
“Hmm?”
“It’s just that, well, we were expecting you last week and the master seems in a bit of a state, and begging your pardon, you look rather out of sorts yourself.”
“We’re fine, Madam Gretna,” I said firmly.
She peered at me over half-moon spectacles, and I saw the shrewdness of every mother I’d ever met, weighing the words of a tired child she knew was lying and no longer cared if he was discovered. “Very well,” she said at last. “Never you mind me. I can’t help but fuss when the family is out working. It’s been that way since the master was just a lad.”
I gave her a sidelong look. Had she known of her old master’s affair with Wydrick’s mother? Madam Gretna was no fool; surely she’d had her suspicions. Little details, the unexplained absences, the things perhaps only a housekeeper would notice and then dutifully put from her mind. Poor woman. I wondered if Lord Erran had ever fully grasped the thousands of small deceptions his faithlessness would demand, not only of him but of everyone who loved him.
“I’ll tell the chambermaids to have a hot bath waiting for you, my lady,” Madam Gretna said after a pause. She turned down the hall toward the servant wing, then stopped abruptly. “Oh, and a few letters came for you while you were gone. I’ve set them out on the desk in the mistress’s study.”
I found them just as she said, neatly stacked on the rosewood table in the study off the Pendragon library I’d used only twice since the wedding. I leafed through the stack of letters. My heart warmed to see Aunt Lissa’s handwriting on one and Anjey’s on another, my sister’s sealed with the twin wyverns and crossed axes of Family Brysney. I set the folded parchment aside and picked up the third letter. From my friend Gwyn, by the address and handwriting, and I smiled at the crest imprinted in the yellow wax. It was, of all things, a wheel of cheese. I broke the seal and pulled the chair closer to the window to read it.
Hunter’s Forge
Lesser Westwich, Arle
1061 se
My dear Aliza,
Thank you for your letter. I’m glad to hear you are settling in well at House Pendragon. If the rest of the place is half so grand as what we saw at the wedding, then you’re bound to have months of exploration ahead of you.
There was a splotch of ink on the next line, which had been crossed out. The letter began again beneath it.
You must forgive little William. He does fuss so when he’s not being held, and he finds quills fascinating. I will try to keep it out of his hands. Wynce would have me start afresh on a clean sheet, but I think it adds character and I’m sure you won’t mind. Anyway, you know what they say about old habits. I can hear my father’s voice in my head whenever I so much as think about wasting paper.
Alas, I’d promised myself not to mention my father. How quickly that man can spoil pleasant thoughts! Perhaps it is a fortuitous segue, however, as you had a particular question that touched on him.
I have put off thinking about it again and again since receiving your letter, and for that I beg your forgiveness. The truth is, Aliza, I don’t know what to do. To answer your question in short: yes, Father’s debt to the Silent King’s moneylenders has been repaid. It took a hefty loan on Wynce’s credit and what little family honor my father had left, but we paid it back a week or so after your wedding.
I would like more than anything to leave it there, to assure you that all is well and this unpleasant business is over, but I cannot lie to you. The longer answer is not so neat.
Another splotch.
Apologies. After Wynce and I married, I began receiving correspondence directly from the Elsian moneylenders. I believe I showed you the first note. They correctly deduced my motives for marrying into a magistrate’s household and named me my father’s surety. How they came to such a conclusion, and from what close proximity they must have been observing my family’s concerns to do so, still upsets me to think about. Nevertheless, it was done. I promised them full repayment, with interest, within a year’s time. It was a foolish thing to do, but I had no choice. I had neglected to ask, and my father had not told me, exactly what the terms of interest were.
A third splotch, this one smudged along the edge with a tiny fingerprint.
It seems William has decided I shall not finish this letter. He is a wise child, as there are things I must tell you that should not be committed to paper. The roads have grown wild since the War of the Worm, and even post-coaches are not guaranteed safe passage. There is no telling who might stumble across our correspondence. Nevertheless, I must ask a favor. Besides Wynce there is no one I trust more, and you may be the only one who can help. At my mother’s request, we will be visiting my family at Merybourne Manor for a few weeks before Saint Ellia’s Day, and dearest, I would very much like to see you. Please, if at all possible, come to Merybourne when you receive this letter and I will tell you what I can.