“‘Perhaps I’m worried for nothing. Perhaps I’m just tired of the tension of court.

“‘Sometimes the king still talks of you. Someone will do something, and it will remind him of you, and he feels obligated to tell the story in full. How you . . .’” I blushed, giving myself away.

Etan scoffed. “No secrets, indeed.”

I took a deep breath. “‘How you kissed him in the room that held all the royal jewels.’ Which isn’t how that happened, by the way,” I said, looking up again. “We were in his rooms, and he kissed me. ‘And then that story will lead into how you used berries to paint your lips once. And then that story will lead into how you used berries as ammunition on me. I can see Delia Grace dying inside when he does it, which is part of what makes me nervous. She seems so uneasy, even with you gone.

“‘Come visit us soon. Even if you have no intentions of winning the king over (which I’m still hoping for, I confess), I think it will set her at ease if you come and go and nothing happens. She will see you as our dear old joyful Hollis, and maybe we can all keep moving on. I don’t know how your days are going, but I hope you will find time to write me soon and tell me of all your adventures. I’m not sure if you’ve stayed in contact with the Eastoffe family after what I heard happened, but if you are, please tell the Lady Scarlet I send my best dance steps her way.’” I looked up, seeing this single line brought tears to Scarlet’s eyes. Happy ones. “‘I wish you well, Hollis. Send me pretty words soon to light up court. Your friend and servant, Nora.’”

I folded the letter, feeling a little warmer inside. It wasn’t exactly a positive update, but it was a comfort all the same. The maid came around, filling cups as the family reflected on the words Nora was kind enough to send.

“Idle gossip,” Etan remarked.

“Not so,” I countered. “It confirmed something for us.”

He squinted at me as I continued. “People in Isolte don’t know what happened to my family, but the people of Coroa do. Seeing as Quinten isn’t their king, perhaps no one fears sharing the story there.”

His shoulders slumped as he considered this. “You’re right.”

Uncle Reid stopped midchew to gape at his son.

And the maid poured ale into my cup.

And that all felt as warming as the letter had.

Uncle Reid cleared his throat, looking as if he wanted to preserve the rare peaceful moment between us. “What are your plans for the day, son?”

“Sleeping. Rotten night.”

I was inclined to look around the table, to see if anyone was attempting to link his sleepless night to mine, and hoping that, if they did, they didn’t draw the wrong conclusion. It was unlikely, as we had been at each other’s throats last they knew. In the end, I only glanced at Scarlet, and I could see her mind was working, but I went back to my food, refusing to give her anything to feed that fire.