“How is he really doing?” Aurie watched the approaching makeshift dock at the fort.

  She ignored the ferryman’s grumbles as he tugged the rope. She didn’t care that it was going to be night soon. She didn’t care that he normally would be home with his wife and grandchildren eating a good fish head soup. Nor that he would have to wait for them to return, regardless of how late it got. Well, she did care—and understand—but this had to be done.

  The three of them had gotten to the ferry as the sun was setting over the hills beyond the village, much to the ferryman’s chagrin. And he certainly made sure they knew it. The entire way to them, and now, as they stood on the ferry waiting for it to arrive on the other side of this portion of the lake, he didn’t stop. Only quieted down so that everything he said, over and over, was under his breath.

  Karl was beside her on one side and Maud on the other, too embarrassed and blushing too much to stand any closer to him.

  Well, Aurie thought when she noticed, at least I now know what her preference is.

  He was handsome. Nowhere near as handsome as Draka, certainly had darker hair and a complexion that spoke volumes of why he had the status of a knight, but Maud was smitten. Everything he said seemed to make the girl have to hold back from giggling. Like a teenager. The poor thing regressed before his eyes.

  “He’s not doing well,” Karl said with a heaviness. “The Baron is against him. The Cardinal is against him. The people are starving. And there’s rumors of a coming siege.”

  “People are starving?” Maud’s giggling had finally ended. When Aurie turned to her, so had the blushing. “He didn’t mention that in his letter.”

  “Soldiers don’t like to talk about soldiering in their letters to their…” Aurie gave a pause, realizing how easily the next word came to her, “…family.” With a long breath, “He doesn’t want you to worry.”

  “Well, I am. What do you mean, Ser Karl? How could anyone be starving, especially in Berone?” Maud was finally able to be closer to the man.

  “The harvest,” Aurie frowned and shook her head. “We feed them. Fed them.” Her eyes moved over the deep blue water surrounding them. The true price of her husband’s people turning against Draka. “Does he have a plan?”

  “Captain issued orders as I was leaving to come your way,” Karl adjusted his footing. He was swaying against the ferry and nearly stumbled a few times if not for bracing himself on a rail. “The fish here are going up the canal to the city. He’s dispatching some of our men and as many fishermen willing to help for the trip. And Alcer is to do much the same.”

  “Good,” Aurie sighed. Then, “Why is the Cardinal and Baron against him?”

  “I wish I knew,” Karl shrugged with a shake of his head. “He’s overwhelmed. I could see it. Never trusted sleeping in the room the Baron gave him, always with his horse and his weapons in the stables like he was already at war. Or on march.”

  “Oh, that’s just Draka. He said that the bed was too fluffy,” Maud said dismissively. “He always does that the first few days after I change out his mattress. Annoys me to no end, but he has to have it feeling like a bag of pebbles to sleep well.”

  Aurie doubted he ever slept well. Knowing what his dreams were, knowing the horrors he faced even when she wasn’t there, made her shudder. That made her wonder as well.

  The ferry bumped the dock and they stepped off. Karl said something to the ferryman, who gave him a solemn nod and spat. Aurie and Maud waited until Karl was beside them before going through the gate of the fort. The stands were covered by cloths and empty. The forge still glowed under the shadow of the high wall, a dimmer glow from the window of the shop beside it whose door was closed. The stablemen were tending to the horses, feeding and brushing them for the night. Soldiers—Baron’s Men, by their tabards—were passing each other on the stairs into the barracks and along the walls carrying crossbows and halberds. There were others who were feeding logs into a caged fire near the center of the bailey, laughing and talking, while others lit torches in it to carry up onto the walls and into the towers. The gate across from them was still open and the bridge had a few torches being lit on either side of it.

  “You know,” Maud stayed against Aurie’s shoulder as they made their way across the bridge, “He asked about you, too.”

  That made Aurie grin from the warmth she felt. But it also poised the question, why? She gave Maud a questioning look. “What did he say?”

  “That he worries about you, that he hopes you came out so he can see you again.”

  “And why would he want to see me?” Aurie narrowed her eyes.

  Maud shrugged, “Probably because you’re my mother and he knows you’re important to me.”

  Of course, Aurie thought with a nod, that would be proper of him. He would always consider her first. His adopted princess.

  Then, a whisper in her ear, “And because he cares about you, too.”

  She shrugged Maud off playfully, beaming, though she tried to hide it. “I’m sure he does.”

  Looking around, now that they reached the end of the bridge, Aurie crinkled her brow. The pub was lively, shadows of the men rippling through the lamplight inside to the sounds of Tuck’s guitar strumming and raspy, yet beautiful singing. There were some ‘Hear, here’s and a few curses. The men were having their fill. She didn’t want to go a step closer to it. Balthazar’s only had a dim glow through his window. She noticed the sky had turned a pinkish orange in the horizon. They were running out of time.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  She turned toward the stilted houses built around the side of the lake in a row. “Alright, which house is Charlotte’s?”

  “No idea,” Maud shook.

  Karl, behind them, pointed, “Perhaps he can tell us.”

  One last group of fishermen were pulling their boat up onto the shore beside other boats. The fishery was a large stone and brick wall that extended into the water, just high enough on the end in the water that the tide spilled over it while several feet higher as it climbed onto the bank. A tall wood stilted building rose at the end of it with hooks and roped pullies dangling off of high wooden arms. The pillars those arms were attached to, were thick and tall, with small spokes that made Aurie wonder about. Nets were strung on racks all around it, organized most likely by who used them.

  As they got closer, Aurie recognized the fishermen. Soran Greshon and his boys, Chase and Andre. Aurie had to force herself to take the next step. Maud held onto her arm as she followed. If not for Karl, Aurie would be looking for an axe. But with Karl, who was wearing his armor and had a long sword at his side and a round shield strapped to his back, she was slightly reassured. Draka wouldn’t choose just anyone to protect them. He trusted this man.

  “Andre, here,” Soran handed the young boy a pail rimmed by fish tails. Aurie couldn’t remember exactly how old the boy was. Ten? Eleven? She felt a bit of shame for that. There was a time when she would be helping Soran’s wife, Alexandra, watch after him and his younger sister, Chloe. Now, it was like looking at a wolf cub who was soft and playful now but would soon join the pack in its deadly hunts.

  “But it’s Chase’s turn! I’m s’posed to do the nets this time, remember?”

  Soran huffed, still standing knee deep in the lapping water. “Don’t argue with me, go on, bring them to your mother,” he turned to his oldest, who was standing across from him on the other side of the small boat, just as tall as him and already showing hairs on his chin.

  Aurie couldn’t help but watch Maud’s expression at the young man as they made their way to them. Chase was tall now, a little taller than his father, finally grown into his long arms and wide chest. He still had the back and legs of a farmer, but now his arms were thick and bulging like a fisherman’s. They had gotten the boat up between the other small boats lining the lake’s soft beach.

  “Now,” Soran pulled the nets out of the boat in a heap and shoved them into Chase’s arms, “This time, do it right. If I find them tangled up like today, I swear I will thump you into next month. You hear me, boy?”

  “Yes, Pa,” Chase hung his head and turned to walk up the bank toward the house that little Andre had carried the pails to. There was a moment that Aurie swore he and Maud locked eyes and the young man only sank even more.

  Soran went back to pulling oars and long armed hooks from the boat. He cursed as he laid them on the ground beside it.

  “Hello, Soran,” Aurie said, still several paces from him.

  He looked up and looked all three of them over. Then he went back to being hunched over the boat. “What do you want, Aurie? Come to cripple my hand, too?”

  Aurie swallowed dryly. It felt good to do at the time, but seeing all the tools, the exhaustion that she could sense from his clumsy movements, and the way the boys were, she knew. In her heart, she knew, she might have caused Balian much more pain than just a hurt hand. These men now truly need their hands every day. Farmers can take time to recover, except during harvest, but even then, there were ways around an injury. She saw now that it wasn’t the same for fishermen.

  “You know, he’s normally the hardest worker out of all of us,” Soran growled, slamming what he was pulling out down on the pile. “Always the first one out there, the last one back. Helps all of us when we need it, even without asking. And now, he’ll be out of work for days because of you. I could have used his help today. Took half the day to untangle the nets, then the wind made the tide go low and we snagged—what do you want?” He had stopped to look up at them.

  “How about we start with you treating Madame Clevlan with respect,” Karl shoved past her and Maud with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “Right,” Soran lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face on. He straightened, “Madame Clevlan now. I forgot. With respect, then, why don’t you tell me why the plowing rivers you want to talk to me?”

  “I said—” Karl stepped, nearly drawing his sword had Aurie not stopped him with a tug of his arm. Soran was unmoved by the soldier’s display.

  “I’m looking for Morin’s house. Which one is it?” Aurie crossed back in front of Karl.

  “He doesn’t want to speak to you,” Soran went back to hunching over his boat for a moment to make sure he got everything, then at the pile at his feet beside it. “You should go home. Back to your pretty palace and princely duties.”

  “Shit on you, Soran Greshon!” Maud spat only making the man chuckle angrily.

  “Eli will die, Soran,” Aurie huffed. Soran stopped reaching and let a knee down to brace himself. “I don’t care what bad blood we all have, but he doesn’t deserve to die because of it.”

  Soran’s head hung. When he looked up, the colors of the sunset reflected in his tearful eyes, “What can you do? We’ve tried everything we could think of and he—he—he can’t even turn his head without crying in pain.” He began sobbing, “What will you do? What is it that you can do that none of us was able to do? Huh? All high and mighty, you still think you know best. Well, my Eli—that loving little baby boy—is going to die and we accepted that a long time ago.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Maud asked.

  “We don’t know. Sylvie and Damon have started to get a cough, too. It’s spreading through the youngest,” Soran wiped at his eyes and began rolling the tools into a burlap sheet. “You’re not one of us anymore. Stop pretending you care about what happens here and go back to your side of the ferry.”

  “I do care,” Aurie said, half whispering. “I always did. You were the ones who attacked us, remember?”

  “You took his side against us! All we wanted was to push him out and go back to the way things were. Balian had his ideas, but that’s all the rest of us wanted. But, no, Balor didn’t think our boys were good enough for his darling little girl, so he had put his hand in another pot. Still not married to him, I see, princess.”

  “Oh, come off it!” Aurie growled. “Like any of them wanted to marry her anyway. So, don’t pretend it was all on her! Or Balor!”

  “Hey,” Maud chimed in, “Maybe we could—you know—argue about something else. Like, anything else.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t think you’re better than our sons, Windleaf, we all know you do. That one’s his,” Soran pointed before hefting the burlap bundle onto his shoulders. “He won’t let you in. You’ll be lucky if he opens the door to spit on you. Now, respectfully, Madame, I’m going home. Feel free not to join us for supper.” And he went up the hill toward his own stilted house.