C H A P T E R  T W E N T Y - E I G H T

WORD FROM
HOME

After a tenuous, three-month visit to Oden’s Ford, winter went north again, leaving behind bursting bulbs, like farewell fireworks in her wake.

It was already warm enough that three hours’ strenuous riding left Raisa damp and flushed, and Switcher sweating and blowing. Raisa rubbed the mare down, murmuring silly endearments to her and singing snatches of “Flower of the Mountains.”

You’re not usually a giddy kind of person, Raisa said to herself. Is this what being in love does to you?

She would see Han Alister tonight. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought.

As she led Switcher into the stall, Raisa noticed that the stall next to her was now occupied by a shaggy gray mountain pony with a white blaze on his face.

Hallie’s gelding.

Raisa forced herself to finish up, shoveling grain with shaking hands and replenishing Switcher’s water. Hallie could be bringing any kind of news, she told herself. Good or bad. Or none at all.

Raisa ran across the stable yard, threading between the buildings to the grassy quad. She bolted up the steps to Grindell Hall. Mick sat by the open window in the common room, scowling over his mathematics. He looked up when Raisa burst into the room.

“She’s upstairs in your room, putting her things away.” He paused for a heartbeat, then said, “She brought honey cakes.”

Raisa ran up the stairs, around and around and around until she reached the third floor. Hallie was kneeling by her trunk, folding clothes into it. She stood when Raisa entered and opened her arms.

Embracing Hallie was rather like embracing a sturdy oak tree.

“I’m so glad you’re back!” Raisa said. “I’ve missed you so much, and I was beginning to worry. How’s Asha?”

“I’ve missed you too,” Hallie said, her cheeks pinking up. “Asha is good. She’s huge, bigger ’n all the other two-year-olds.” She let go of Raisa and dug into her carry bag on her bed. “Here. Lydia, Corporal Byrne’s sister, she made me another picture.” She extended a framed pencil sketch of a solemn-looking little girl with a stubborn chin and a ribbon in her hair.

“She’s beautiful,” Raisa said, passing back the drawing. “She looks like you.”

“Well, she wouldn’t be beautiful if she looked like me,” Hallie said, grinning. “But she is rum clever. She learned to say Mama while I was there.” Hallie paused. “I already spoke with Commander Byrne about being late coming back. I nearly missed the whole term. It shouldn’t have happened, but it was hard to leave her when it came down to it. I cut my time too close and run into bad weather on my way back.”

Master Askell had better listen to me about providing for children, Raisa thought.

“I brung you some honey cakes,” Hallie said, pointing to a cloth sack on Raisa’s bed. She looked up at the ceiling. “Let me see, there was something else…”