She shrugged. “Seemed like the thing to do at the time. Anyway, given my late start, you’ll forgive me if I forgot to pack up supplies for a cookout.” She dropped her head onto her blanket pillow with an exhausted huff.
The horses, which were tied up to a stand of birch trees a few yards away, loudly ripped up grass, shifting their feet and whipping their tails. Crickets and katydids trilled, and a soft breeze made that comforting rain sound again as it brushed the fields.
“Thank you,” Hadrian said.
“I didn’t do it for you.” Scarlett stretched and yawned at the same time. “I did it for me. So I wouldn’t have to worry about Royce. I told you that.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
Hadrian looked up at the underside of the wagon, where bits of mud and old grass had gotten stuck.
“It had nothing to do with you,” Scarlett said with more force, more volume.
“We should get some sleep,” he told her. “Royce will be waking us before dawn. He does that—like he can hear the sun or something.”
They lay together, listening to the night. He heard her breathing, soft and steady—a nice sound. He was tempted to touch her, reach out blindly with his fingers searching for hers. He didn’t. She might get spooked and take her blankets and leave. Be a pretty poor way of thanking her for saving his life.
When he turned to sleep on his side, the pain stabbed him. He let out a grunt and set his shoulders on the grass again. He hated sleeping on his back.
“Need to have that wrapped up,” she whispered.
“What I need is a stiff drink that isn’t laced with something for a change.”
“And sleep,” she said. “You need that, too.”
Hadrian took a deep breath and sighed. “Good night, Scarlett Dodge.”
“Good night, Dog-with-a-Ball.”
Hadrian chuckled, which caused his side to ache. “Don’t do that.”
“You deserve it.” Scarlett turned over on her side, her back to him. “And I didn’t do it for you.”
Yes, you did, he repeated to himself, but let it go with that.
Brecken Dale hadn’t changed. Not that Hadrian expected it would in the few days they’d been gone. The thought was larger than that; Hadrian didn’t think the dale ever changed. Leaves might turn color and fall, snow might blanket fields, and the names of people and some of their faces might be different, but the dale remained as it always had been. He saw all this as they came down the road, as he got a clear bird’s-eye view of the village from the trail above.
Timeless was the first word that popped into his mind. Eternal was another.
Why he thought that was harder to nail down. Then he realized that he saw no forgotten foundations of abandoned buildings, no blackened husk of a burned-out mill or barn, no grass-overgrown cart or wagon orphaned in a pasture. No fallow fields, either.
Hadrian wasn’t a farmer, but he’d grown up with them and knew that a third of the land had to rest for a season or face exhaustion. Not so in Dulgath. Pastures looked to be permanent, and while every inch of cultivated land was sown, it all thrived. Rules that governed the rest of the world didn’t seem to apply here. Hadrian hadn’t seen any construction, either. In Medford, scaffolds were everywhere as buildings went up or came down. Bridges were in constant need of repair—and the roofs! No day passed that Hadrian hadn’t heard the pounding of hammers on roofs. But in Brecken Dale the decay of time took a holiday.
Maybe it really is blessed.
Just a few days ago he’d felt uneasy in the little village. All the ivy and the talk of it never raining had put him on edge. Dulgath was different, even odd, but he no longer felt out of sorts. If anything, it seemed proper. His initial impression of tranquility had been the right one. Either that or the stretch of road coming into Dulgath, just before reaching the dale, was enchanted.
The sun insisted it was still morning when they entered the dale. The last time he and Royce had come that way, they’d arrived in the middle of a tarring. This morning, the village was empty. They rumbled past the peach orchard, which Scarlett said was owned by the Beecham family. With thirty head of dairy cows, they were also the largest producers of milk in the area. Clem was their third son and had once courted her with a basket of peaches and cream.
“He thought he was being clever,” Scarlett said. “But I’d only been living in the village a few months, and it just reminded me about how much I stood out.”
They passed through the market, where the stalls were shuttered and not even a single cart was parked. Hadrian didn’t bother asking, since the confusion on Scarlett’s face told him it wasn’t expected.
Wagner burst out the door to Caldwell House when they were still heading for the stable. “You did it!” he called to Scarlett, shaking that same dirty rag at her. Clem and Gill spilled out after him, along with a woman with short brown hair, a friendly smile, and a fetching hat. Brook brought up the rear, favoring his right leg.
“You doubted me?” Scarlett smirked.
“Worried, darling, that’s all. Guess I shoulda known better. All went well, then?”
“The one in the back has a broken hand and finger, and Hadrian has cracked ribs, but other than that everything’s fine.”
“I’ll tell Asher he’s got patients,” the woman with the hat said and hurried off through the deserted market.
“Thanks, Tasha.” Scarlett climbed off the wagon. “What’s going on? Where is everyone?”
“King arrived yesterday. They’re down at the ceremony.”
Scarlett nodded as if understanding this.
“What ceremony?” Hadrian asked as she helped him down. He didn’t really need the help, the pain in his side wasn’t that bad, but he accepted her hand just the same. He liked the way her little fingers fit inside his.
Peaches and cream, he thought, and realized he would’ve made the same mistake as Clem, if he’d been smart enough to think of it at all.
“Lady Dulgath is paying homage,” Scarlett said. “She’s pledging her loyalty to King Vincent, and in turn he gives her a kiss and officially declares her to be Countess Dulgath.”
Royce climbed off the wagon by himself, clutching his right hand to his chest. “People from Brecken Dale went to see this?”
“Sure,” Wagner said, patting the necks of the horses and looking them over. “Folk from all the villages and countryside, I’d imagine. Not every day you get a new ruler. ’Course lots of folk just want a look at the king or have an excuse to get out of the fields.”
“Gill, take care of Myrtle and Marjorie. I ran them ragged,” Scarlett said. “Oh, and Wag, here’s a few new horses for you. That ought to pay for the beer and your trouble.”
“Where’d they come from?” Wagner asked.
“You don’t want to know. As far as you’re concerned, they were lost and you took them in.” She winked.
As Gill worked on the buckles, Wagner turned back to Scarlett and slipped an arm around her waist. “You sure everything is good?” His voice had an added tone of concern. Maybe it meant something, maybe it didn’t, but he pulled her close while looking at Hadrian.
“Everything’s fine,” she replied with enough of a sidelong glance to convince Hadrian she noticed the behavior, too.
Is that annoyance in her eyes?
“With so many people coming to watch, I’m guessing they’re not holding this ceremony inside the castle?” Royce asked.
“Out in the courtyard is what I’ve heard.” With his arm still around Scarlett’s waist, he looked at Hadrian again. “You owe my Scarlett a huge debt of gratitude. You know that, right?”
“We do indeed,” Hadrian replied.
Wagner looked to Royce, as if expecting to hear a thank-you.
Instead, Royce asked, “When does this ceremony take place?”
“Little after midday,” Wagner replied with a frown.
“Why you so interested?” Hadrian asked.
“Because there’s a bigger debt we need to repay, and I know just how to do it.”