which calmed them immediately. Connley said crows were even less inclined to linear thoughts than most birds, so they responded better to messy, simple songs.
Vae Lear leapt up from her seat at the end of the high table when they appeared, cooing and taking the basket from Connley. No others seemed to make a fuss about it, shrugging Connley’s strangeness away as usual, sharing amused glances, or ignoring it for more important things. Solas Lear did call out, “Do not let them take the best pieces of meat, Vae.”
Though the great hall already was packed to the corners, it was Hal to whom Hotspur immediately, unthinkingly looked. She lifted her brows at the prince, to share the joke of how all these islanders kept crows as pets. Hal smiled, and smiled broader when Hotspur did not glance off straightaway. It was the bolder smile that brought Hotspur back to herself: Hal was too beautiful, too purely herself, and Hotspur scowled, stomping after Connley.
Rowan Lear climbed onto one of the long tables and snapped small white explosions of light overhead for attention. When the crush of folk turned to him, he organized everyone to clear the ramparts of snow and excavate paths to the kitchen, barracks, and chapel. Retainers would dig out the gate and barbican, then engage themselves with regular watch rotations. Everyone else not occupied with childcare or cooking found a place on one of the snow teams. Hal sweet-talked her way to Hotspur’s side, and they spent a hard, companionable morning digging the king’s tower free of nearly a foot of snow. Mared Lear worked on Hal’s other side and it was, Hotspur sourly noted, a saint-made match. The two fell quickly into a game of one-upmanship, the rules of which were irrelevant to Hotspur: only, their filthy banter and strength games made her blush and laugh respectively. By the time they’d completed their task and trudged back over stamped-down snow to the great hall for hot drinks and food, Hotspur could not say which had lost the battle, for both Hal and Mared dripped with melted ice and shivered, their cheeks raging pink.
They were two days snowed into the great hall.
Though it was possible to retreat to individual bedchambers for sleeping or a necessary break from the energy of the crowd, most remained, transforming the hall into a party. Beer was plentiful, and at night wine was warmed at a long fire built down the center of the hall, the smoke drawn up to the ceiling and out a single open window by kindly wind. This required the wizards or witches in attendance to take shifts for directing the magic. Even the quiet Aremore wizard worked his part, though Hotspur was not quite ready.
They played games, some small affairs with tossed rocks or cards, and others organized call-and-response suited to large teams; they sang, and young people showed off new skills, including a handful of children who performed a play for the queen and her guests, featuring legends from island history. Queen Solas recited a long poem that skipped and wove in a complicated rhythm, but the story was simple, telling only of the seasons and cycles of life on Innis Lear. Hal sang a folk song, her clear voice ringing out, and the prince encouraged the audience to join her, twisting it into a layered round with the help of Rowan. The Learish prince’s voice rose higher and stronger even than Hal’s, and Hal’s eyes brightened as she found a countermelody. Hotspur tried to turn away.
The Glennadoers performed as a family, with even creaking old Donnan taking part, a wolfskin pulled over her head so she could act the wicked earth saint chasing children. This devolved when Irrel, the mother of Glennadoer’s younger bastards, took up the wolfskin from her grandmother and began chasing the young ones in earnest, until they screamed or cast wild little curses at her, or hid behind a parent’s legs.
The eldest of those bastard daughters, Catrin, did her best to act as Hal’s first aide, hovering when she could, and had joined Hal’s snow team. Hal didn’t seem to mind it, but with as little to do as there was, Hal often dismissed Catrin. Hotspur noticed the girl went directly to her father more often than not. They were close, which Hotspur envied, and also mistrusted. Had Glennadoer thought to gain something from having his bastard daughter in Hal’s retainment? Then Hotspur chided herself for worrying over Hal at all.
Solas herself