Sieged

Chapter Eleven

Pinning the entire theft on Leech made the king delighted even though the food wasn't returned. Sir Blouf, on the other hand, was clearly perturbed. A sign of his guilty ways? That the bit of chaos that the theft had caused hadn't swelled into something more? Or maybe Sir Blouf is innocent and that he just hates others who please the king. I wonder what his thoughts are of the queen. Or the king's many mistresses. 

Though just one, a wick has been extinguished. 

I'm not too thrilled Leech had to share all the blame, and it eats away at me now and again, but it had to be done. And fortunately, Leech is not around to wag his tongue. Seamil is the only one who can command the king's army. If he was to be accused and charged, which I would never let happen, it would surely be the end. 

I'm truly glad this has finally been put to rest. But onto the other issues at hand. And with the sheriff's keep destroyed, finding somewhere to house my men and I was my first act. 

The city's prison was my initial proposal – it's the only place now that has cells – but they had no space to spare. The warden said I had done too good of a job enforcing laws. I don't know if he was jesting or being snarky. The prison was also disgusting, noisy, unkept and the smell was sickly. Even if they did have room, I wouldn't have been able to think. 

After finding no other suitable place, no higher city official helpful on the issue as usual, Seamil sent me a message suggesting we use his and Lorma's home. I'm sure it was their way of apologizing for the waste of time and energy they caused. And I agreed. Their neighbours weren't too thrilled by the change in activity but they can kiss my arse. 

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The portrait of Lorma's late father glares at me with judgment. It's a keenness I have witnessed countless times in the past. It rattles my nerves. He was a great man and kind when he wanted to be but I don't miss his disapproval. 

'Sorry, sir,' I say, 'you're coming down.' I give the picture a salute before unhooking the frame. I carefully turn it around and place it against the wall on the hardwood floor. I then grab the portrait of Fey and hang her up. 

My nerves settle in haste. 

I'm so grateful I found her relatively unscathed inside the keep. There are a few tears in the canvas but they're not noticeable if you step back. 

'You always said you wanted a house like Lorma's,' I say. 'This is your home now.' I give her a wink and turn around to walk across Lorma's study, the room racked to the brim with shelves of books. 

Reaching a tall window, the sill coated with almost a finger of dust, I peer out and glance down at the fountain in the courtyard, my carriage idling by. Dead leaves collect inside, a pigeon rummaging, pecking around for insects. 

I'm envious of the bird. Such a simple life. And it can go wherever it pleases. 

A sharp bray pings my ears and I lift my gaze. I see May trotting down the street, chasing a toppling sprig of tumble grass. She seems to be enjoying the hunt. Another simple life. 

I hear the door to the study open and I turn around. 

It's Jac. 

'Sorry, sir,' he says, 'but I keep getting lost in this place. It's quite big, isn't it for a house? A home?' 

'You think this is big, you should see inside the palace,' I reply. 'Now that's a big home.' 

'I doubt that will ever happen.' 

'You may. But let's hope you don't.' 

'Excuse me, sir?' 

'If the city ever gets invaded, the last stand will be inside the palace. So let's hope that never happens.'