The mood in the house was somber. The older children thronged the kitchen table, around Dame Winemiller, who was surprised and shocked to learn a stranger had come to the vineyard and no one had bothered to tell her. When she learned it was about Phae, she frowned and shook her head, stroking Phae’s hand repeatedly and trying to assure her that all would be well. The words were said with a tremor in her voice that belied the assurance she was trying to bestow.
Phae rose from the table and paced the kitchen, clutching her stomach, looking at every face as if it might be her last chance. There were so many memories imbued in the home. She saw all the cobwebs in the nooks and the crumbs scattered beneath the table as well as the good times, the laughter, and the teasing. Trasen beckoned her over to the hearth. She joined him gratefully.
“Sit a moment,” he said, offering her a seat on the stone next to him. His eyes never strayed for long from the front door. He had been watching it like a cat since Winemiller had left.
She eased down, feeling her emotions close to the surface. She hated it when her feelings ran away with her. She was always the one that others came and confided in, always able to soothe a hurt or mend rifts between the children.
“I wasn’t expecting my fortnight leave to be so interesting,” he said in a conspiratorial voice. “Guarding caravans of peaches will seem downright boring compared with this.”
She tried to smile, but her mouth felt all wrong.
“How did the last harvest go?” he prodded, trying again to distract her.
“I know what you are doing,” she said, trying not to whine. “Let’s go back to our first conversation.” She gave him a level look. “I don’t like the thought of you being a soldier, Trasen. The Romani are dangerous.”
“So are the Wayland Outriders,” he countered. “I’m not going as a soldier. Finders are paid much better.”
“Why are you so suddenly interested in earning ducats?” she asked, butting his knee with hers. “Is there a fancy bow you are craving? A new blade?”
He smiled wanly, looking down at the floor suddenly. “It takes ducats to start a homestead, Phae. Of course, there are all those abandoned ones in Wayland from the last Plague. But I’ve heard they are haunted.”
“You would go to Wayland to start a homestead? Why not here?”
“Is this where you want to spend the rest of your life, Phae?”
“Not in the city. But yes, I love this country. I thought you did too.”
He nodded. There was something in his eyes again. Something he wasn’t telling her.
“Why do ducats mean so much to you now, Trasen?” she pushed again, unrelenting. “If anything were to happen to you…”
His eyebrow twitched up, waiting for her to finish.
She did not. There was a knock on the door and Trasen was on his feet. The others deferred to him, since he was the oldest and he opened the door cautiously, hand resting on his dagger hilt.
Winemiller entered, followed by the Vaettir prince. Phae’s heart fell to the bottom of her boots. The other children hushed at once, and even Dame Winemiller stopped her chatter when he appeared.
“Children, we have a guest tonight,” Winemiller said. Phae stared at his face in suspense, wondering what he would say. “This is Prince Aran of Silvandom. He will be spending the night with us. Devin and Tate—you will give up your room tonight and sleep in the kitchen. The Prince needs some privacy and he refused to take our room. All right, boys? Good. Everyone needs to go to bed. We have extra chores in the morning. Go on, now. No stories. You can hear more from Trasen in the morning. Sorry, lad, but you will sleep in the barn tonight. We don’t have any extra beds at the moment.”
Trasen waved it away. He was used to sleeping out of doors.
Phae bit her lip, meeting the Prince’s eyes as he looked at her, almost scowling. His expression was grave and disapproving. He bowed thankfully and declined Dame Winemiller’s offer of wine to drink. He stood aloof as the children began crossing paths, unused to heading to bed so early.
Winemiller approached Phae at the hearth and Trasen joined him.
“I must leave?” Phae asked, devastated.
He nodded brusquely. His voice was low, almost a whisper. “But not as this man wishes. I do not know who he is. I do not trust him. I am not letting you leave with him tonight.”
Her heart surged with joy.