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Alfred spent his days in endless visits to construction sites, checking on progress, and reassigning work crews where they were needed most. Presley thought they could finish the earthworks in ten days, if everything went well. Grigory was more cautious and said it would take at least two weeks.
Two weeks. That would mean the end of April. Would Broderick and his army really hold off that long? The intelligence from Robert Tynsdale and Intira said no. Broderick wanted to move soon and when they would least expect it, and winter had been gone now for weeks. Yes, there had been a few big spring rainstorms, but they hadn’t washed out roads or caused massive flooding. So, why hadn’t he attacked yet?
Alfred was afraid to say it, even to himself, but with every day that passed, it seemed more and more likely Broderick had decided to wait for Duke Lukas’s return. Could the Sigors and the city of Leornian really be so lucky? Only Earstien knew for certain, and Alfred wouldn’t have wanted to bet either way. You never knew with Broderick.
All the people in Leornian could do was keep reinforcing the walls as quickly as they possibly could. That was the safest option. For Alfred, it also had the benefit of keeping his mind off Elwyn. Almost four months had now passed since the Solstice when he had asked her to marry him, and she still hadn’t given him a straight answer. Maybe she was waiting until Midsummer, as well. You never knew with Elwyn.
They saw each other at the castle frequently. Her eyes would light up when she saw him, and she would smile, but she always had some excuse why she could not stay and talk. They went riding occasionally, but she would always bring her brother, the king, along and make Alfred explain the earthworks and battle plans to him. Every encounter left Alfred seething and frustrated, because it seemed to him that she was not frustrated at all by the situation. It seemed to him as if she would have been happy to keep him waiting forever.
Several times, after council meetings or inspection tours of the earthworks, Queen Rohesia would sidle up to Alfred and try to find out how things were going with Elwyn. “I saw you riding with a certain someone yesterday. Do you think she’s coming around?”
When Alfred told her the disappointing truth, she would sigh, take several long deep breaths, and say things like, “Patience is a virtue, Sir Alfred,” or “I am told one mustn’t rush these things,” or “We must let her find her own way in her own time.” The queen often sounded as if she were trying to convince herself, though, as much as Alfred.
On April 15, after a long, exhausting day at the worksite near the Wellard Street gate, Alfred returned, sweaty and streaked with mud, to his office, where he found a small note on his desk, written in lilac-colored ink on pink paper.
My dear Sir Alfred,
We are having a small party for my wife’s birthday tonight in the third floor gallery. I would be honored if you could attend. No gifts will be necessary, though as always, we will be taking a collection for the refugees.
Yours most sincerely,
Sir Nathan Peel
Peel was the fellow who had married Melanie Searle, Elwyn’s old flame. If this were a small, intimate gathering of friends, Alfred wasn’t sure why he had been invited. He didn’t really know Sir Nathan or Lady Melanie all that well.
Alfred frowned at the note. The handwriting didn’t look like Sir Nathan’s, but it did look familiar. Suspiciously familiar, in fact. His heart raced, like he had heard alarm bells in a peaceful camp on a quiet night.
He had already promised to bring the queen certain documents that afternoon—requisitions from local merchants and lists of civilian volunteers for the work parties. So he added the little pink note to the pile of papers and ledgers and went down to the queen’s study on the first floor.
Her majesty’s eyebrows shot up when she opened the message. Clearly she recognized the handwriting, too. She bit her lip and drummed her fingers on her desk. “Ah. So that’s what she’s been planning.”
“Her royal highness is the one who planned this party?”
“Duchess Elena told me Elwyn requested the use of the gallery tonight. Elena was happy to oblige her. We both thought perhaps she was getting ready to announce.... But then, of course, you would have known....” The queen cleared her throat. “But that is neither here nor there. Writing invitations and finding a venue for a party are tedious chores. No doubt she was trying to help.”
“Do you think I should attend?”
“I think that might be best for all concerned.”
He thought she was probably right. After leaving her study, he went to his own rooms to bathe and shave and change his clothes. He did not bother wearing his tightest trousers or most fashionable tunic. Instead, he dressed as if he were going back to work—practical wool tweed and sturdy, thick-soled boots. He didn’t feel like making an effort for Elwyn at the moment.
He did go back to work for a while. The old third floor gallery of the Bocburg was right next to his office in the Silver Parlor. So, even as he could hear a troupe of minstrels tuning up and the excited laughter of partygoers, he ducked into his office and quickly shut the door behind him. Trying to ignore the music, he studied maps of the city wall for a while. When he finished with that, he took out a list of soldiers who had been recommended for promotion and studied their files, making notes whenever he saw fellows who might be useful to Presley or Grigory.
The sound of the party next door grew louder and louder, and he thought, “Perhaps I’d better go make an appearance.” And then he thought of how Elwyn was over there enjoying herself, and he said to himself, rather bitterly, “Maybe I’ll sit here until she comes to get me. After all, she knows my office is right here. Yes, I’ll wait for her. That way I’ll know if she really wants me there or not.”
Eventually, there was a knock at the door, but it wasn’t Elwyn. It was Lady Alicia Tynsdale, Sir Robert’s wife and old schoolfriend of the princess.
“Why are you sitting in here?” she said, tilting her head quizzically to one side. “Didn’t you get your invitation?”
“I did. I was just, um...finishing up a few things.” He waved at the papers on his desk.
“No. Absolutely not. That’s the whole point of tonight. You’ll be no good to anyone, Sir Alfred, if you drive yourself until you fall apart from exhaustion. Come relax a little. You’ve earned it. We all have.” Alicia grinned. “Besides, a lot of the knights and officers are with their regiments tonight. So, there’s a shocking number of ladies sitting down without partners for dancing. It’s your duty as a knight to come to our aid.”
Alfred nearly made a comment about how Elwyn could dance with Melanie, if it came to that. But he kept it to himself and let Lady Alicia lead him out of his office and around the corner into the middle of the festivities.
The gallery was one of the most famous and storied rooms in the Bocburg. It was a massive chamber, located right over the great hall, full of ancient works of art and trophies from wars and tournaments long forgotten. On the far side, along the northern wall between two wide arched windows, was a small alcove where Finster’s Book had once been kept, back in the days of the Kingdom of Leornian. The book had been taken to Wealdan Castle centuries ago, however, along with many of the most valuable treasures of the royal family. Even so, there were still a dozen old suits of armor, and jewelry in gilded cases, and tarnished old crowns.
For the most part, the partygoers seemed to ignore the relics. Which was fair enough, Alfred thought. He kept meaning to come over here and really study all the little tags and commemorative plaques, but between one thing and another, he never had found the time. Small wonder that young noblemen and women would prefer to flirt and laugh and drink, rather than look at the ancient wonders around them.
With Alicia on his arm, Alfred took a turn around the room. He spotted Lady Veronica Swithin, wife of the Earl of Hyrne, who looked enormous and rather uncomfortable, even though Earl Lawrence kept bringing her pillows and things to eat from the buffet. Queen Rohesia and Duchess Elena were seated nearby, chatting amiably and smiling serenely at the younger people dancing.
More young men had apparently been found, and they picked up a few display cases—no doubt filled with priceless artifacts—and shifted them quickly aside to expand the dancefloor.
Duchess Elena gave no sign of disapproval, and in fact called out, “They’re just old heirlooms. Don’t worry about them.”
As Alfred reached the northern side of the gallery, pausing with Alicia here and there to say “hello” to friends, his eyes fell on the centerpiece of the Bocburg’s collection. Several small glass flowers—fragments, really—hung in the air near the alcove, supported and protected by powerful spells. These were all that survived of the vast magysk garden of the Blessed Leofe which had once been part of the castle, centuries and centuries ago. They were beautiful and delicate and utterly priceless; nothing like them would ever be made again. Even amidst the laughter and dancing, they had attracted a small crowd of admirers.
Alicia started that way, perhaps intending to examine the glass flowers herself, but then Alfred spotted a pair of young women standing there, right at the center of the little crowd, smiling and talking arm in arm: Princess Elwyn and Lady Melanie. As he watched, Elwyn whispered something to Melanie, who grinned and whispered something back. They both giggled.
“Finster’s balls,” muttered Alfred, coming to a stop in the middle of the room. “You have to be kidding me.”
Alicia dropped his arm and turned to look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Am I the only one who sees that?” He gestured toward Elwyn and Melanie. “Is that what this party is about?”
“What? No! Elwyn simply wants everyone to rest and enjoy themselves a little. We’ve all been working so hard, and she thought a party would be a good opportunity to—”
“A party for Lady Melanie?” Alfred dropped his voice to a whisper. “There are tens of thousands of people in this city and thousands of troops. You’re telling me the only excuse her royal highness could find for a party was the birthday of the woman who used to be her....” He paused, looking from side to side, unwilling to say the word even in this company, where many people probably knew about the old affair. “The birthday of a woman who is now happily married.”
“They’re still good friends.” Alicia looked worried. “I...I don’t think she imagined you would take this so...personally.”
Beyond the group surrounding the glass flowers, in the far corner, Alfred spotted Sir Nathan Peel with several other young knights. His friends were laughing and drinking, but Sir Nathan had turned to watch his wife and Elwyn. His eyes were wide; his jaw hung loose. He had his glass paused halfway to his lips and a half-eaten cake in his other hand, as if he had been frozen suddenly in place.
“It’s not just about me, personally,” Alfred said to Alicia.
At that very moment, Elwyn herself looked around. Beaming, she waved a hand and called out, “Alicia! You finally found him, bless you!” With that, she abruptly dropped Melanie’s arm and hurried over.
She had on a dress of bright red silk with a fringe of dark green velvet. Her hair was tied up under a golden hairnet, and she had a red silk flower in her hair.
“Do you like it?” she asked, spinning in place. “It’s supposed to match Leofe’s glass flowers, you see.”
He had to admit she looked very good in the dress. Very, very good, in fact. He tried not to stare, but he couldn’t quite stop himself.
“She would never brag about herself, so I’ll have to do it,” said Alicia. “Elwyn had that dress made because she heard of a seamstress on Crown Street who had lost so much business she was going to lose her home.”
“That was very...kind of you, your royal highness,” said Alfred stiffly, forcing himself to look away.
“Oh, goodness, look! There’s my husband,” cried Alicia. “I must go dance with him.” Then she rushed off, leaving Alfred alone with Elwyn.
“I’m so glad you came,” the princess said.
“Thank you. So very kind of Sir Nathan to invite me,” said Alfred, a bit archly.
“That was me, actually. But you probably knew that. Listen....” She moved closer and put a hand on his arm. “I had more than this dress made. They aren’t much, but they are rather...exciting in their own way. I don’t suppose you’d like to step away from the party for a little while, would you?”
As tempting as this was, he refused to give in. “Do you think we might have some time to finally discuss that question I asked you, back at the Solstice?”
“Oh, that.” Her smile faltered. “I...I’m not sure. Wouldn’t it be more fun if we think about that some other time? Tonight we could...enjoy ourselves.”
He stepped back, letting her hand fall, and bowed. “Pardon me, your royal highness, but I am very busy. Give Lady Peel my congratulations, will you?” Then he spun on his heel and stalked away.
All the way down the stairs and out into the courtyard of the castle, he kept expecting her to come running after him, begging him to come back. And he knew he would not be strong enough to stop himself if she did. But to his surprise, she didn’t chase after him at all. He stood at the front gate, staring back at the bright lights of the palace for a minute, and then turned and walked out onto Addle Street, barely acknowledging the bow of the officer on duty.
He crossed the city, passing boisterous taverns and solemn churches, busy market stalls and the quiet, studious colleges of the university. He passed Grigory’s worksites, where soldiers and civilian volunteers were still toiling away by the light of big brass lanterns. They were endlessly shifting rocks and old bricks from one pile to the next, street by street, block by block, inching the supplies ever closer to the city wall, where they could be used in the morning.
When he reached the wall at the Martin Street Gate, he climbed up to the battlements and walked along, nodding brusquely to the soldiers and workmen he passed. Here in the southwestern corner of the city, the earthworks behind the wall hadn’t even been started yet. There had been too many old buildings to clear away first, and other areas of the wall had seemed more strategically important.
Earlier, before he had even known about Melanie Peel’s birthday party, he had been trying to think how to get the wall here reinforced more quickly. Grigory had assured him that they were all working as fast as they possibly could. But Alfred thought they still might find a way, if he could only focus on the problem properly.
He tried to do that now, putting the princess out of his mind and staring down at the bare stone inner face of the city wall. But he kept thinking of her in that dress, and of how happy she had seemed when she saw him. But hadn’t she seemed happy with Melanie, too?
His mind wandered back to his days in Annenstruk, and to Lady Norah Borten, the first girl he had ever loved. Norah had warned him, several times, not to expect too much of her. “I’m not a very good girl,” she would say, “even when I try.” As if she had no control, and her misbehavior was some kind of affliction or natural disaster that fell on her innocent head from the heavens. She had warned him, but he had fallen in love with her, anyway. And she had broken his heart by marrying a wealthy old Annenstruker viscount, instead.
And now Elwyn. He loved her—he was pretty sure he still did. But he didn’t know how much more of this he could take.
“We can plan our defenses as carefully as we can,” he thought, “but there will always be that one person who can hit you where you’re most vulnerable, every time.”
Somewhere nearby, he heard a door slam open and quick feet sprinting on stone. Glancing to his left, he saw a messenger in a hooded cloak running toward him along the battlements from the Martin Street Gate.
“Sir Alfred!” the young man said. “Sir Alfred, I bring news from the north!”
In an instant, Alfred forgot Elwyn and Norah and Melanie Peel’s birthday party. “From the north? What sort of news?”
“The worst kind, sir.” The messenger bowed. “The enemy made a sudden assault two hours ago. Redlingham has fallen.”
Redlingham—the town at the edge of the Bishop’s Forest, the anchor of their lifeline to Bullsley. Leornian was cut off from the world once more. Broderick had encircled them again, and that probably meant he was getting ready to make his final assault on the city.
“Find Sir Presley and Professor Sobol,” said Alfred. “And tell them to meet me at my office in the Bocburg. I’ll get the Queen Regent and the captain general; I know where they are.”