“It’s not your fault,” he repeated firmly. “It’s your burden. But it’s not your fault. There’s a difference.”
She sniffled for a while, thinking about that. “Yes,” she said. “I see what you mean.” Then, a moment later, she said, “Giddon, did I wake you up? Twice?”
“It’s okay.”
“I haven’t even asked you how it went this time in the tunnels. I’m sorry.”
“It was fine,” he said, though it hadn’t been, not really, for the soldiers in the Estillan forests had been harder to skirt than ever, and the increase was rumored to be at the orders of Lord Joff, home from his trip to the Monsean queen. Why? Also, along with their blades and bows, the soldiers were carrying a flag Giddon hadn’t recognized. One of the refugees had told him it was the flag of the new Estillan regime. It was just a flag—Giddon kept telling himself it was just a flag—but it was eerily like the Monsean flag. Bitterblue’s flag showed a mountain peak rising behind water with a single gold star above, shining in a dark sky. The new Estillan flag showed a similar mountain peak rising behind hills, and a similar star above, except that their star was shaped like a sword with a cross guard. And the sky was red like blood.
“I’ll tell you the details later,” he said.
“I’m glad you’re home,” she said, throwing Giddon into another confusion, because he had no home anymore; he spent his life on the road, in the company of strangers. This court was merely where he was staying, until the Council needed him to be someone else, somewhere else.
“I’m going to Winterkeep,” she added, pulling away from him and mopping her face with her sleeve.
“What?” he said, startled.
“I’ve been receiving invitations from the Keepish Parliament for some time now. I think it’s time I went there myself, and made some things clear. Meet the importers on this list who’ve been cheating me, and learn more about the ship that went down. Make sure Katu is really okay.”
“Bitterblue,” he said in alarm. “Aren’t those jobs you can delegate?”
“My last two delegates drowned.”
“Well then, could it be dangerous? Send someone.”
“They’re not going to kill the Queen of Monsea,” she said scornfully.
“All right,” he said, changing tactics, “but aren’t you needed here? Since when do you have the time for a trip like that?”
“How could it not be worth a queen’s time to see the workings of more advanced nations?”
“But don’t you get seasick?”
Bitterblue began to laugh. “Listen to you,” she said. “I’m going, Giddon.”
But I like myself best when I’m around you, he didn’t say. I try the hardest when I’m with you. Don’t leave.
“Giddon?” she said, turning those steady, trusting gray eyes upon him. “Does the Council have any interest in seeing Winterkeep?”
Chapter Four
Lovisa Cavenda slipped down the corridor and stopped outside her Politics of Trade classroom, tucking herself against the wall.
A professor walked by, not even glancing at her. Lovisa could make herself as still and uninteresting as a wall fixture. It was one of the benefits of being small.
She was early, as usual. The previous class was still in the room. Behind the closed door, she heard the even cadence of her mother’s voice, her faint northern accent, strong and assured; the occasional laughter of the class, engaged in the lesson. Every class taught by Lovisa’s mother, Ferla Cavenda, had a waiting list as long as this corridor. Students threw themselves against her high standards and competed for her approval. They wanted to be challenged by her.
Bullied by her? thought Lovisa, who’d grown up in Ferla’s house and knew the line was indistinct.
A pair of younger students, heads bent together and giggling, came down the corridor, not noticing Lovisa until they were practically upon her. She memorized their faces, their clothing, their silly conversation about someone they both had a crush on; then leveled an expressionless gaze upon them when they finally saw her.
Dropping into a startled silence, the two students hurried on. Lovisa watched them go, suppressing a shiver. A fire was crackling in the foyer fireplace around the corner, but September was chilly in Ledra.
Then someone else came down the corridor and Lovisa stood up straight. It was her own father.
“Papa!” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Lovisa,” he said, coming to her with open arms, pulling her into a hug. He was a big man, stylishly dressed in a long, dark fur coat as usual, gold scarves at his throat and his black hair cut close. He smelled as he always did, like the warm, spicy teas he drank, and his brown face was different from hers in its striking handsomeness, strong boned and finely chiseled like a sculpture.
“How have you been?” he said.
“I’m fine,” said Lovisa, then repeated, “What are you doing here?” Her father was a politician and a businessman. She rarely saw him during the week. “Is anything wrong?”
“Of course not,” he said. “I merely thought I’d take my wife out to lunch. Would you like to join us?”
“I have class.”
“You should come home for dinner tonight, sweetheart.”
Behind the closed door, her mother’s voice grew louder, then the door opened and Ferla’s bonded blue fox bolted out of the classroom and down the passageway. Good riddance, Lovisa thought, watching the animal go, for she had no fondness for her mother’s fox. Blue foxes in Winterkeep, which were actually more gray than blue, had the ability to bond telepathically to humans. The bonding was an opening of an exclusive mental pathway between one human and one fox, initiated by the fox. It allowed the fox and the human to share their thoughts and feelings with each other, for the rest of their lives. And Ferla’s fox served as Ferla’s smelly, devoted spy, nosing around, snooping, and telling on Lovisa and her little brothers whenever they misbehaved.
Ferla glanced out into the corridor. When she saw her daughter, her expression remained impassive. Then she saw her husband and surprise touched her small face. Some silent communication passed between them.
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” she said quietly, then turned back to the room to dismiss her class. “Next time we meet,” she called out, “I expect an opinionated debate on the topic of chapter two.” Students picked up their belongings and began moving, chatting, forming groups, spilling out into the corridor. By the time Lovisa and Benni entered the room, Ferla had gathered her things and was heading toward the door.