She muttered something as I went out, but I did not catch it. I did not go to my council chamber to finish dealing with the correspondence. I went, instead, to my own quarters, where I sat down at my desk and contemplated the ribbon-bound bundle that was Flidais’s letters. My heart was racing; my palms were sweaty. I carried the letters to the small fire that burned on the hearth, keeping the chamber warm for me all day. A luxury; the privilege of a prince. But privilege was balanced, always, by responsibility. I considered the long years of my future, and wondered if I would feel like this every single day: as if my heart had been shredded. Or would the pain subside as I grew older and my dreams faded to nothing?

I slipped the letters from the ribbon and, one by one, consigned them to the flames.

23 Grim

23

~GRIM~

Long night on guard up at the bakery. Not on my own, at least. Couple of the fellows from Silverlake keep me company. Feeling a bit guilty, most likely, since the girl was right there in the village and nobody spotted anything wrong. We make a little fire to keep out the ghosts. Long, long night. Plenty of time to think about what I could have done, run a bit faster, yelled a bit louder, tried a bit harder to get to Branoc before he lost himself in the woods. Bad that he’s still out there somewhere. Means he could do the same thing to some other girl.

Next day, we keep going, Blackthorn and me, though she hasn’t slept either. She’s been sitting up with Ness. Girl’s wrung out as thin as an old rag by everything that’s happened to her. We leave the village women looking after her and head on back to Winterfalls. We drop the horses off, pick up Emer from the smith’s, give her the good news – good and bad, to tell the truth, but at least Ness is alive, and she’s safe now – and go on to the prince’s place.

Blackthorn’s angry and it shows. Think she expects Prince Oran to do the sort of thing Mathuin would do, say it’s only a village girl and she got what was coming to her, then send us packing. So, when he listens and takes it all in and says sorry, she’s on the back foot. Not for long; she makes it plain she’ll be watching, making sure he keeps on doing the right thing. Fellow strikes me as trustworthy. Reckon I can tell pretty quick. Seems to me he’s trying to do good, and sometimes struggling with it. Got a sad look about him.