Rosamund
Dinner was the loudest the house had been in months.
Julian and I sat across from each other at the long dining table while Nevan occupied the head, and for two hours we ate and drank and talked over each other.
Julian told us about the rescue at the Dovecote, about the fifty soldiers riding through the night, about the Hargrove woman who had opened the door, taken one look at the Crown's seal, and surrendered without a word.
He described Margery, who had punched the nearest soldier in the shoulder and demanded to know what had taken so long. Elspeth, who had said nothing at all but had walked out of the front door and stood in the sunlight for ten minutes with her eyes closed.
"And Elowen?" I asked.
Julian's expression softened. "She was sitting by a window, reading. She looked up and saw me and said, 'You're late, Julian.' As though I'd kept her waiting for tea rather than fourteen months."
