I waved her off. “Unnecessary.” We stared at one another, and I could’ve kicked myself for coming unprepared. For not knowing what to say. “It’s been so long, I know, but I just thought I’d say hello…” I lifted the basket. “And I couldn’t resist the chicken pie.”

Her shock waning, she nodded and offered a weak smile. “No one can surpass Jon when it comes to pie.”

“No one,” I agreed, and my gaze lowered to the babe in her arms. “Congratulations. What’s his name?”

“Quain,” she said. “And thank you. I’ve two more at home. Beatrice is almost four summers now, and Santon is two.”

“Are they with your husband?”

“No, he’s dead,” she said, and with such speed it was as if she didn’t want the word to touch her lips. “His mother lives with me now. She minds them.” Smiling sadly at Quain, she brushed some of his unruly blond tufts from his forehead. “This one won’t be weaned for a while yet, so he’s created a somewhat permanent home on my hip.”

“I’m so sorry, Shayleen.”

“Me too,” she whispered, and moved to the counter at the window by the door. Setting her son upon a blanket there, she got to work on removing petals from damaged flowers, and opening tiny sacks.

I had no idea what to say next, if there was anything else to say, nor if my presence was what this soul needed. I didn’t know why, but I asked, “Was it in battle?”

“He was returning from a short run, and it was too late to turn back when they saw them upon the shoreline. He and most of his crew were slaughtered hours before the king’s patrol reached the docks.”

Her husband had been a fisherman, that much I knew, but I’d never met him. I never would.

We’d both been so young the last time I’d visited Shayleen with news of my fairy tale prince. Too young, perhaps, to ever guess at just how unpredictable life would become in this place we’d always called home.

“Are you faring okay?” I asked, knowing she knew what I was offering. “I can have a delivery sent, and make sure you—”

“The king cannot afford to give all of us coin, Astrantia. I know that better than most. Besides”—she tossed a stem onto a tray filled with others and began counting seeds from a bowl—“we manage fine. Unlike most.”

Her tone implied that my time would’ve been better spent seeing to other widows, and to the younglings now bereft of parents. I didn’t tell her I had. That the running of the orphanage and its funds were overseen personally by Theenon, the king, and myself.