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It was the right thing to say, and the wrong one. Therez—Ilse, he reminded himself—drew an audible breath. “I need your help, Ehren.”
She was clearly uncomfortable here, in what had been their father’s office. “Would you rather we went to my rooms?” he said.
“No.” The tension in her mouth flickered back to life. “Your people will see too much. I do not wish to bring trouble to your house. At least, no more than I already have.”
“Then I will send Gersi for refreshment. We can eat and talk here.”
She made no objection. Ehren went to the door, where his runner stood guard. “Go to the kitchens,” he told Gersi. “Have them send mulled wine, tea, cold meat, and soup.”
When he turned back, he found his sister had removed her jacket and gloves and placed them on the hearth where they might dry. She stood close to the fire, rubbing her hands together. Just as he suspected, she wore a belt hung with more weapons—another knife, even a sword.
Her face averted from his, Ilse spoke. “I hated you. You. Our mother. Even our grandmother. Especially you and Grandmother. Oh, I knew it was because he trapped us all, but I hated that you and she did nothing. And that night, when I came to you—”
She rounded on him so quickly he flinched.
“You are afraid of me?” she asked.
Ehren swallowed, tasted the magic lingering in the air. “I am afraid of your anger
. And mine.”
Ilse stared at him, her eyes far too bright. Then the hard lines of her mouth softened to more familiar ones. “So am I. So am I. It reminds me too much of our father.”
So she is not the only one.
A soft knock announced Gersi’s return. Ehren admitted the man, who carried a heavy tray with various carafes and covered baskets. In addition to the dishes Ehren had requested, there was a carafe of cold water, and baskets of dried fruit and meat pies. “Thank you,” Ehren said. “We shall serve ourselves.”
Gersi withdrew. Ehren poured two cups of mulled wine and gave his sister one. Ilse. Not Therez. With every repetition, the name came more naturally. She drank the wine, but when he offered her a plate of meat pies, she refused. “I am not starved, only wet and cold.”
An answer that provoked only more questions to Ehren. He took a meat pie for himself—it would serve well enough for dinner—and gestured toward a low table set around with padded chairs.
It was a fortunate suggestion. Away from the desk, once their father’s, her manner eased.
“So you wrote,” he said. “Tell me the rest. If you can.”
Ilse gave a smothered laugh. “Oh, so much happened. So much, Ehren.”
From the sound of her voice, he thought she might break into tears. He fetched the wine carafe and refilled their cups. Ilse accepted the cup, but did not drink. She turned it around and around in her hands, staring into the dark red liquid. The rain had fallen off in the past few moments, but the rippling of water over stone and glass continued.
“I ran away,” she said softly. “I could not marry Galt. By now you should know why.”
He nodded. Galt had visited them the week after Ilse fled. He had demanded recompense for the broken contract, even though no contract had been signed. Petr Zhalina attempted to negotiate better terms. Galt refused. Only later, when rumors of Galt’s previous engagement, and the reasons for its dissolution, became public knowledge, did he withdraw his demands. It had not stopped Galt from working against House Zhalina in business, but the private threats had ceased.
“And so I went south,” she said. “It was not an easy journey.”
Brandt and the caravan and all that implied. Ehren knew them from Brandt’s letter, his father’s own investigations, and rumors that came north. “You took service with Lord Raul Kosenmark,” he said.
If he thought she would then talk about Kosenmark and her time with him, he had mistaken her. She passed a hand over her eyes, trembling. Just a moment, then she met his gaze with that new assurance that so unnerved him.
“We met with difficulties with Lord Khandarr,” she said. “He threatened me, and so I left. Not long after that various … events overtook me. It’s best if you don’t know—”
“So say you,” he murmured.
She acknowledged the strike home with a nod. “So I say. And that is all I can say for now. Ehren, I must find Lord Kosenmark. I must.”
“Why come to me then?” he asked. “You know I have no connection to the man. How can I help?”
“Baron Eckard,” she said. “He keeps a house in Melnek. Is he in the city still?”
