He was silent. It was not an easy answer to give. Had he tossed out an answer with less than a thought, she would have doubted the sincerity of it. He was brooding over his answer – brooding over the request. It was not given lightly. Silence fell on the woods. Then for a moment, it seemed as if the world stood still and held its breath with her.

“You shall have it,” he whispered. “Even if I must teach you myself.”

Sowe gasped at the immensity of the promise.

It was the best day, the best moment, the best instant in Lia’s life. She would remember it all the rest of her days. Lia wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, but she knew from her previous demonstrations of friendliness that he would shun it and detest her. The surge and storm of gratitude in her heart brought tears to her eyes, but she willed them not to fall. She must not cry in front of him. She must not show how much she was indebted to his kindness. He could have asked anything from her, and she would have done it, without flinching.

Barely able to get the words out, she whispered, “Thank you, sir. I thank you.”

He stood motionless and hard, like a waymarker himself. His mouth was terse, his expression grave. Then he dropped his hand to his belt and hooked his thumb there. He looked at Sowe and said somberly, “Leave us a moment.”

Sowe, nervous, backed down the road towards the Cider Orchard.

Lia drew closer, worried now that he had changed his mind.

“I pray I have not made a vain promise. I did not make it lightly, nor seek to cheapen it with excuses.” He stared down at his boots, then met her gaze. “As you know, I go to war. Should I fall…” he paused, choking for a moment, “Seek my steward. His name is Theobald. Tell him of the promise I made to you. If I do not live to fulfill it in person, he will do so on my behalf. Does that satisfy you?”

Shocked, Lia swallowed and nodded. Then she saw it, she saw through the façade and into his soul. It had happened to her before on a stormy night when she was nine. That night she had read the Aldermaston’s soul. Today, she saw a stiff lip, a scowl, a rigid demeanor. And she recognized it for what it truly was. Colvin was afraid. He feared what would happen to him at Winterrowd as much as his honor compelled him on that road. They were tangled feelings. Since he had left on his journey, he had been worrying about his death and its effect on his sister, his uncle, and those who loved him. Now he was beholden to yet another creature – a lowly wretched. The thought of disappointing them all was almost too much for him to bear.

The insight came in a moment, a blink. At that moment, she knew him better than anyone else did. He was afraid of dying at Winterrowd, his blood-spattered body twisted and bent, crumpled with others older and more war-wise than himself. Of his sister and how she would worry and grieve, for he had not told her what he was going to do. Yet despite the guilty fear of what would happen if they failed to depose the ruthless king, he forced every footstep on the path leading to the fate that terrified him. In that moment of clarity, in that breach into his soul, she learned a little of the true meaning of courage.

In that moment, as she blinked back fresh tears, she knew that who she danced with at the Whitsun Fair would be the least of her worries. She would worry about him, Colvin, since even his own sister could not.

“Your horse is penned up at Jon Hunter’s lodge,” she said thickly, struggling to speak through a clenched throat. “We will take you there.”

She did not know any other way to say goodbye at such a moment.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

Thievery

Sowe waited for her in the mist, shivering. Sometimes it took hours before the sun chased the morning fog away. As they began their long walk back to the kitchen, in the distance, they heard the thudding of hooves.

“Was Jon away?” Sowe asked nervously.

“He is always gone before the sun rises. I swear the man never sleeps in that filthy hovel. He is more likely than not bedding down in a bush each night. At least he cared for the horse. It looked rested and brushed and there were oats for it still.”

“So are we going to tell the Aldermaston now?”

“Before we put the orb back in his chamber? You are daft, Sowe, truly. I am glad we did not need it.”

“So when will we tell him? Tonight?”

“Quit worrying, Sowe. Now that he is gone, you should feel more easy. Why worry the Aldermaston about it at all?”

“I should not, but I do worry. I am nervous about what will happen. We should tell him, Lia.”

“And make him angry? He does not know – he did not find out. We did it, Sowe. Why not be happy about that?”