There was a smile on Tosten’s face when he turned to look at Tisala, but his eyes were flat. “So when the castle laughed at my stupid brother’s devotion to his little serving maid, I laughed, too. He followed her around all day at her chores, carrying the laundry baskets or the serving trays for her, and at night she slept in his bed.”

Tisala didn’t want to think of anyone sharing Ward’s bed, but she set the feeling aside and listened to the story.

“Ward would have been about fifteen or sixteen during that time, and already a big man. My father had begun to avoid him—I think he was afraid of what Ward could do. So he did nothing about my brother’s unseemly devotion, which went on for a little over a year before she married someone else.”

Tosten’s breathing was erratic, and Tisala could tell that this story was not without cost. “One day I walked by my brother’s room and stopped because the door swung open by itself. Hurog was haunted, so it wasn’t that uncommon to have doors move on their own. I wasn’t frightened until I heard Ward crying. He would have married her, I think, if she’d have had him. But she knew her place, if he didn’t. She left for Tyrfannig and a marriage with a merchant her father knew.” Tosten rubbed his gelding’s neck. “She had a miscarriage a few weeks later—the day I heard Ward in his room. I think it was Ward’s child. I wish I’d gone to him when I heard him crying instead of closing the door.

“I didn’t know if I was going to tell you the whole thing or not,” said Tosten. “But it seems the right thing to do. None of us have seen Ward like this since then. He doesn’t have casual relationships. He doesn’t flirt, he doesn’t light up with eagerness when other women come into the room—just you.” He gave her a quick grin. “I wanted you to know that I don’t just think of you as—how did you put it? Ah, yes, Ward’s woman. I believe it’s much more serious than that.”

5
WARDWICK

Ciarra had a nursemaid who told stories of horrid monsters living in the Hurog sewers that ate bad children. Far from being horrified, Ciarra liked to pretend she was a monster. Once she jumped out from behind a door and terrified the nursemaid. Aunt Stala, when told of the matter, said that the monsters that scare us the most are the ones we create ourselves.

TWOGUARDS CAME TO TAKE ME FROM MY HAVENof straw. Their eyes glittered weirdly and snake-tongues of fire rippled from the top of their heads. I couldn’t understand what they said, but I understood that they grabbed my arms and sought to drag me away from safety.