Breanne and William came into the common room from outside and, as soon as Breanne saw the giant, she squealed. Like a bolt shot from an
over-tight crossbow, Sithe’s traumatized little butterfly flew into Sythius’s
arms, and perhaps the most remarkable part of it all was the fact that William—usually
sullen and angry—didn’t seem bothered by this.
If anything, he looked ... relieved. As though this
stranger who called himself Sil’nathin were the sire he and his baby sister
never had.
“Seems they’ll be distracted a while,” Lady Heiler said,
pointedly. Sithe drew her attention back to her guest, and quirked an eyebrow. “May
we speak in private ... Miss Sithe?”
Something about hearing that name on those lips sent a shock
of cold straight through Sithe’s spine. She stood. “Sythius!” she barked. The
big man looked at her. “Watch them. I have business.”
Sythius nodded fervently. Up, down, center.
Sithe gestured. “Come with me.”
She entered the kitchen, saw Gloria at the fire, cooking
stew for the house luncheon. She nodded to her matron. Sithe said, “Where are
the boys?”
“Godric is teaching Vincent archery. They’re on the Sixth’s
training field. Fuller is running an errand for your Lord Sire.”
Satisfied, the matron nodded. “Help Sythius with the little ones. I have a private meeting to conduct with Lady Heiler.”
“Oh!” Gloria curtsied. “Welcome, Milady!”
Lady Heiler tapped her temple in a jaunty sort of salute. It
was surprising in its casual air, and Gloria had no idea how to respond to it.
She simply curtsied again, and bolted from the room.
Sithe glanced at the bubbling pot over the fire and said,
without looking:
“What can this humble servant do for you?”
* * *
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