“I see.” She poured herself a cup of apple cider, but the pitcher ran out after a few drops.
“Not to worry.” He rummaged in a nearby basket and pulled out another pitcher. “We still have wine.” He poured two cups full.
She took a taste and winced at how strong it was.
He sat in the chair beside her and scooted up close.
She stiffened. “What are you…?”
“I don’t want us to be overheard,” he whispered. “Everything we discuss from now on must be kept secret.”
“Then we should speak Eberoni.”
He shook his head. “These men trade with the Eberoni. They know the language.”
“Oh.” She gasped when he took her hand.
“They’ll think we’re having a romantic moment.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
“Stop that.” She pulled her hand from his grasp.
“Ah.” His eyes twinkled with humor. “Now they’ll think we’re having a lovers’ quarrel.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Is this a jest to you?”
“No. No one will dare harm you if they believe you are special to me. That is the best way for me to protect you.”
“I understand that, but it doesn’t mean you can touch me without my permission.”
“Would you give me permission?”
She started to say no, but the entreating look on his handsome face gave her pause. Good goddesses, this man was far too appealing. She took a bracing sip of wine.
He rested an arm on the back of her chair. “You’ll need to call me Silas.”
“But I hardly know—”
“And I’ll call you Gwen. Or Gwennie. Is there an endearment you prefer?”
“Excuse me?”
“Sweetheart? Snookums?” His mouth curled up. “Bunnykins?”
She grimaced. “Are you serious?”
“I guess bunnykins was too much.”
She slapped his shoulder.
“I love it when you play rough, snookums.”
“Stop it.” Her mouth twitched. The man was outrageous.
He grinned. “That’s better. We have to seem comfortable together, or no one will believe we’re lovers.”
She snorted. “Then I’ll be sure to slap you whenever I feel like it.”
“Excellent.” He scooted even closer and lowered his voice. “How do you think the queen is being poisoned?”
His close proximity made her pulse race, but thank the goddesses, they were finally talking business. “The easiest way would be through her food or drink.”
“That’s what I thought. So for the past year, one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, Margosha, has been secretly testing everything the queen eats or drinks. So far, she’s encountered no effect.”
Gwennore winced. “She does it voluntarily? That could be dangerous.”
“I know, but Margosha is determined to help me. She served my mother for years, then she was my governess for a year after Mother died.”
“Oh.” Gwennore recalled how he had mentioned his mother drowning in the Norva River. “How old were you when your mother passed away?”
“Six.” He turned his head to gaze at the passing shoreline. “That was a horrible year. I lost a brother and a sister. Then Sorcha was sent away. And then Mother…” He closed his eyes briefly.
What a terrible thing for a child to endure, Gwennore thought. Was he lonesome growing up? And why would a man have such pretty eyelashes? When he opened his eyes to look at her, her breath hitched. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
“It wasn’t an accident,” he whispered. “I’m not sure if she was overcome with grief or in the grip of madness, but she threw herself off the bridge in Dreshka.”
Gwennore gasped.
“I tried to be enough for her. Enough of a reason for her to live…”
Gwennore clasped his hand. “You mustn’t blame yourself. You were only a child.”
He squeezed her hand with his own. “The following summer, when I was seven, the plague swept through the country again. The physicians claimed that the disease became more dangerous in warmer temperatures, so I was sent far to the north where it is always cold.”
How sad, Gwennore thought. He must have been lonely.
His mouth curled up. “It wasn’t that bad. The castle is owned by Aleksi’s father, Lord Marenko. He was a former general, so he trained Dimitri, Aleksi, and myself.”
“That was when you became close friends?”
He nodded. “You can count on them. And Lady Margosha. She’ll help us however she can.”
“I see.” Gwennore withdrew her hand and took another sip of wine. “Are you sure she’s tested everything the queen eats or drinks?”
“Yes. I don’t think the problem could be as simple as the water supply, or everyone in Draven Castle and the village of Dreshka would be crazy.”
“True.” She sipped more wine while she considered. “It has to be something that only the queen comes in contact with. Mayhap the poison is embedded in something she wears, such as her clothes.”
“Mayhap? I heard you say that before. Where did you learn Norveshki?”
She frowned. “Is there something amiss with my use of your language?”
“Your grammar is perfect. You have a bit of an accent, but I like it. Very much.”
She drank more wine, trying to ignore how flattered she was. “I learned all four mainland languages in the Convent of the Two Moons where I grew up. The sisters there are famous for transcribing and illustrating books.”
“I know. I have a few of them.”
“Really?” She smiled at him. “I learned Norveshki by transcribing Torushki’s Bedtime Tales of a Mountain Troll.”
“Are you kidding? That has to be about five hundred pages long.”
“Four hundred and eighty-six pages, to be precise, including the illustrations. And I transcribed it twice. By the time I finished, I was fairly fluent in the language.”
He winced. “That book is four hundred years old.”
“I know.” She shuddered. “I kept imagining four hundred years of sweet young children having nightmares. Why on Aerthlan do the Norveshki tell their children such frightful tales right before bedtime?”
“They are cautionary tales to warn children not to wander off into the forest. A great deal of our country is covered with vast forests, where it is easy to get lost. And there are bears, wolves, and wildcats—”
“Pray, tell me the mountain trolls do not actually exist. I had a few nightmares myself when I was doing
