Page 78

For months, I pictured him starving without me. Every time Rhys placed a full plate in front of me, I imagined my father sitting in this house with an empty one. When the fires inside the castle burned so hot that I occasionally kicked off the blankets, I wondered whether my father had enough wood to survive a cold night.

I look toward the house.

The woodpile is full.

Food sits on the table.

My father looks healthier than he has in years.

I’m relieved. I should be nothing but relieved, yet I can’t stop looking at all the evidence of how well he has managed without me.

Life continued without me.

I reach into the saddlebag and pull out the heavy leather pouch Rhys forced into my hands when we left. The coins inside shift against one another as I hold it toward my father.

He looks at it instead of taking it. “What’s that?”

“Coin.”

His eyebrows rise, and he finally accepts it. The moment he loosens the drawstring and looks inside, his expression changes.

“Boone.”

“H-he made me take it.”

My father’s fingers close around the pouch. “He gave you this?”

“Yes.”

He looks inside again, then lifts the pouch slightly, judging its weight in his hand. “This is more money than I’ve seen in years.”

“He was worried I’d starve.”

Silence follows, and I realize how strange the words sound only after I’ve said them.

My father slowly looks at me.

I busy myself with Bramble’s saddle. “He worries about strange things.”

My father continues watching me for another moment, then sets the pouch carefully on the workbench.

“Lucien has been taking care of me,” he admits.

My hands stop.

“Lucien?”

“He’s been bringing food. He repaired part of the roof too, and when I couldn’t manage the wood myself, he started bringing that.”

I look toward the enormous stack beside the house. Suddenly, I know exactly where it came from.

“Where did you tell him I was?”

My father looks down.

“Dad.”

“You were working about a day’s travel away.” His eyes lift apologetically to mine. “I didn’t know what else to say.”