Page 34 of The Blacksmith

“Aye, and you’re still in the wrong of it. But this is your mission, not mine. I’ve brought my man to our cause, and now you must do the same.”

“My mission,” he grumbled. “You’d do well to remember that.”

Guy ignored his warning. “If only we could eat a real meal this eve.”

He would live to regret this.

“You’ll remember, my goal here is to assimilate. Not bring attention.”

Guy bounded up from the stool, clearly sensing weakness. “As you will.” He placed a hand on his stomach. “A right fine meal. I look forward to it.” He made to leave the shop.

“Say nothing.”

“My specialty,” Guy called back from the doorway.

His friend’s specialty was wreaking havoc wherever he went. But if he were being honest with himself, Lance wanted to see Idalia.

Even though he should not.

No good could come from making an appearance in the hall, especially with Guy, but he would take the excuse anyway. Just for a glimpse. He wouldn’t speak to her, but one quick look might help ease his tortured soul.

One he knew, if given the chance, Idalia could heal.

“You’ve done well, daughter.”

Idalia was indulging herself in a quick glance at Lance, who had come into the hall earlier with his friend.

“Pardon?” she asked her father.

He rarely praised her, and Idalia did not know what to think of it. While the words were welcome, they appeared to be somewhat forced.

Which could only mean one thing—it wasn’t his own sentiment.

“You’ve been with Mother?”

Her father raised his chin as he often did when he did not want to answer a question. Tilly snickered beside her, having evidently heard the entire exchange.

“Aye. When did Lord Sheely arrive?”

“Earlier today,” she said. “Dawson told him you were not available, so he appealed to me for an audience.”

Although they rarely turned away a visitor, not all were equally welcome. Especially one who had come to collect the king’s coin. It was no secret her father despised Lord Sheely. And since their neighbor to the south had been made royal tax collector, he had become even more insufferable than usual. His visit was yet another reminder that the king’s taxes had become a heavier burden for them to bear.

Her father grunted.

“You will not be able to avoid him for much longer,” she said, resisting the urge to look toward the back of the hall.

“I can attempt it,” he muttered, making her smile just slightly.

“Is it true,” she asked, taking a spoonful of soup, “he keeps a portion of the coin he collects?”

Dawson had told her that this afternoon, after they’d shown Lord Sheely to one of the empty chambers. But the seneschal was also known to tell tall tales and gossip.

“Aye.” Her father took a swig of ale, a cue he was finished speaking on the topic. So she turned to Tilly instead.

But not before taking another glance at him.

He was watching her.