Darion returned a short grunt. “Children I can handle. It’s their parents that cause trouble. And the horses? Theylikeme.”
Yrenna’s mouth curved—small, unmistakably amused. “If you say so, Commander,” she said before sauntering off, Darion’s eyes following her until she disappeared around the corner.
Alexander remained silent. He rarely interrupted when they circled each other like this—Yrenna sharper than she let on, Darion unwilling to admit how easily she unseated him without a weapon. In moments of uncertainty, Alexander found their sparring almost comforting.
A wry thought occurred to him. After all his fretting over Yrenna’s dowry and prospects, after every advantageous match he’d turned over in his mind, what if the answer had been here all along? Not a lord or a nobleman’s son, but his own right hand. His friend. The man who’d never backed down from her, and whom she’d never softened her edges for.
He left Darion and found Conrad near the stables, hands full of garlands. His ward was all elbows and shoulders this season, limbs outgrowing his frame faster than he could managethem. There was a gawky sincerity to the way he worked, focus narrowed on each knot and loop.
It struck Alexander how much the boy reminded him of himself—before the shame and grief, before title and duty stripped away the ease in his body, the softness behind his gaze.
Conrad looked up at his approach.
“Pup,” Alexander said. “I want you near Princess JingYi today. Discreet, but close.”
The boy’s brow furrowed. “Has there been a threat on Her Highness?”
“No.” Not a visible one, at least. “Just caution. Keep Tedric with you. Stay alert.”
The corners of Conrad’s mouth pulled tight. “With Tedric?”
Alexander paused. “Is there a problem?”
The boy scuffed his boot. “He beats me in the yard. Every time. And makes a joke of it.” His ears went a little red. “But he slips the line. Turns up and vanishes on his own errands. Not enough dirt under his nails for a man who says he’s always on the road.”
He gave the boy a wry look. “He’s older and faster. That’s training, not treachery. If he teases, answer him by besting him. As for his errands, they’re mine to assign.”
Conrad swallowed whatever else he was about to say and nodded.
“Good,” Alexander said. “Set pride aside and do the work. Stay close to Her Highness. If Tedric’s near, use it. Two sets of eyes are better than one.”
He reached out and placed a hand on Conrad’s shoulder—a brief, solid grip.
“You have good instincts, pup. Trust them. And watch her back as you would mine.”
The boy’s eyes widened slightly, then steadied with a new determination. “Aye, my lord.”
Alexander followed a thread of intuition to the lower hall. Thereshewas, standing beside the elder cook in a simple dark plum gown edged with gold, counting bundles of altar herbs. Her head was bent, dark braids coiled neatly at the nape. She looked up when he approached, her expression guarded.
“You should be resting before the ceremony,” he told her.
Her fingers stilled on a bundle of rosemary. “So should you. We sought our beds at the same time this morning.”
He couldn’t argue with that. His bones felt the exhaustion heavier than usual, but he wouldn’t worry about himself if she still insisted on working.
“I’ll go to the village once I’m finished here,” she said. “I promised Ulrik I’ll look in on Annett and Aniva. I also want to check on Daan.”
Alexander didn’t respond at first. He watched her finish tying the last bundle, fingers swift and sure despite the faint tremors.
“If you’re going to the village,” he said, “let someone else finish the work here.”
She didn’t stop. “I’ve been trained to always finish what I started.”
“You’re not a servant anymore. You’re the mistress of this keep. The villagers already look up to you. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”
She glanced at him. He tried to read her emotions, but she kept them shuttered so tightly he couldn’t see through her.
“I know,” she said, “but I’d like to. If that’s allowed.”