Upon hearing this, the crowd went silent and heads turned. There were whispers, gasps, and fingers pointed toward her. Modina did not roam the castle. Since her edict to grant shelter to the refugees—to quarter them anywhere possible—she had returned to her old habit of being a recluse. She lived in her chambers, visiting the fourth-floor offices and the throne room only once a day, and even then by back stairways. Her appearance in the halls was an uncommon sight.
“Keep these stairs clear,” she told him, her voice sounding loud in the open chamber. “I don’t want people falling down them. Find these good people room somewhere else. Surely there are more suitable quarters than here.”
“Yes, Your Eminence. I’m trying, but they—well, they are afraid of getting lost in the palace, so they gather within sight of the doors.”
“And why is that goat in here? All livestock was to be turned over to the quartermaster and recorded by the minister of city defense. We can’t afford to have families keeping pigs and cows in the palace courtyard.”
“Yes, Your Eminence, but this fellow, he says this goat is part of his family.”
The man looked up at her, terrified, clutching the goat around its neck. “She’s all the family I ’ave, Yer Greatness. Please don’t take ’er.”
“Of course not, but you and… your family… will have to stay in the stable. Find him room there.”
“Right away, Your Eminence.”
“And get these steps clear.”
“Thrace?” The word rose out of the sea of faces. The faint voice was nearly swallowed by the din.
“Who said that?” she asked sharply.
The room went silent.
Someone coughed, another sneezed, someone shuffled his feet, and the goat clicked its hooves, but no one spoke for a full minute. Then she saw a hand rising above the crowd and waving slightly side to side.
“Who are you? Come forward,” she commanded.
A woman stepped through the throng of bodies, moving across the floor of the entry hall below. Modina could not tell anything from looking down at the top of her head. A handful of others followed her, pushing through the pack, stepping around the blankets and bundles.
“Come up here,” she ordered.
As the woman reached the stairs, those squatting on the steps rose and moved aside, granting her passage. She was thin, with light brown hair, cut straight across the bottom at the level of her earlobes, giving her a boyish look. She wore a pathetic rag of a dress made of poor rough wool. It was stained, hanging shapelessly from her shoulders, and tied at the waist with a bit of twine.
She was familiar.
Something in her walk, in the way she hung her head, in the weak sag of her shoulders, and the way she dragged her feet. She knew this woman.
“Lena?” Modina muttered.
The woman stopped and raised her head at the sound. She had the same sharp pointed nose speckled with freckles and brown eyes with no visible brows. The woman looked across at Modina with a mixture of hope and fear.
“Lena Bothwick?” the empress shouted.
Lena nodded and took a step back as Modina rushed toward her.
“Lena!” Modina threw her arms around the woman and hugged her tight. Lena was shaking as tears ran down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Lena said. “It’s just I—I didn’t know if you’d remember us.”
Behind her were Russell and Tad. “Where are the twins?”
Lena frowned. “They died last winter.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She nodded and they hugged once more.
Russell stood beside his wife. Like Lena, he was thin, dressed in a frayed and flimsy shirt that hung to his knees and was tied about the waist with a length of rope. His face was older, cut with more lines, and his hair was grayer than she remembered. Tad was taller and broader. No longer the boy she remembered, he was a man, but just as haggard and gaunt as the rest.
“Empress!” Russell stated. “Oh, you’re your father’s daughter, all right. Stubborn as a mule and strong as an ox! The elves are foolish to even think about crossing paths with one of the Woods of Dahlgren.”
“Welcome to my house,” she said, and hugged him.
“Dillon McDern had come here with us during Wintertide just a few months ago. We watched Hadrian joust,” Russell told her.
She had brought them back to her bedroom, where she sat on the bed with Lena while Russell—who was never one to sit while telling a story—stood before her. Tad was at the window, admiring the view.
“It was a great day,” he went on, but there was regret in his voice. “We tried to see you, but they turned us away at the gate, a’course. Who’s gonna let the likes of us in to see the empress? So we went back to Alburn.
“After Dahlgren, Vince found us all plots on Lord Kimble’s land. We was grateful to get it at the time but it turned out not to be such a good idea. Kimble took most of the yield and charged us for seed and tools. He took Dillon’s sons for his army and they was both killed. When he came to take Tad here, well, I didn’t see no reason to stay for that.
“Dillon and I were drinking one night and he told me, he says, ‘Rus, if I had it to do over again, I’d a run.’ I knew what he was getting at, and we said goodbye to each other like tomorrow would never come. We packed that night and we ran out. Thing is we was only running ’cause we didn’t want Tad to be pressed into Kimble’s army. We got as far as Stockton Bridge when we heard the elves had invaded Alburn. We heard they torched the place. Dillon, Vince, even Lord Kimble are all dead now, I suppose. We come here ’cause we didn’t know where else to go. We hoped, but we never expected to see you.”
The door to the bedroom burst open and the girls and Mr. Rings came bounding in, all three halting short when they saw the Bothwicks. They stood still and silent. Modina held out an inviting arm and the girls shifted uneasily toward her, the raccoon climbing to the safety of Mercy’s shoulder.
“This is Mercy and Allie,” Modina told them.
Lena smiled at the two curiously, then stared at Allie’s pointed ears. “Is she—”
Modina cut her off. “They’re as dear to me as daughters. Allie’s father is on a very important mission and I promised I would watch over her until his return. Mercy is—” She hesitated briefly. She had never said it in the girl’s presence before. “She is an orphan, from the north, and one of the first to see the elves attack.”
“Speaking of elves…” Russell continued where his wife had left off.
“Yes, Allie is of elvish descent. Her father saved her from a slave ship bound for Calis.”
“And you’ve got no problem with that?” Russell asked.
“Why would I? Allie is a sweet little girl. We’ve grown quite fond of each other. Haven’t we?” Modina brushed a loose strand of hair behind a pointed ear.
The girl nodded and smiled.
“Her father may have to fight me for her when he gets back.” Modina smiled at them both. “And where have you two mischief-makers been?”
“In the kitchen, playing with Red.”
Modina raised an eyebrow. “With Mr. Rings?”
“They get along fine,” Mercy said. “Although…”
“What?”
Mercy hesitated to speak, so Allie stepped forward. “Mercy is trying to get Red to let Mr. Rings ride on his back. It’s not going so well. Mr. Thinly chased us out after Red knocked over a stack of pans.”