She thought of his hands in her hair. The sweet smell of hay.
* * *
“I don’t understand,” Elly said later that day. “I could believe he was only being cruel, if it was just us. But that courtier was involved, too. And all the courtiers who followed her.” That courtier was the only way Elly would refer to Amie. She shook her head. “I’m not complaining, and I’m certainly not about to ask anybody for an explanation. But I don’t understand.”
She and Judah were walking in the orchard. None of the courtiers ever went there; the soft ground was littered with dead leaves and dropped fruit, and the cidery smell of ferment clashed with their perfume. But Elly had good boots and so did Judah, and neither of them minded the smell. They’d played there when they were children. It was a happy place for them. Elly, Judah knew, wanted to be happy today. After Judah had left the ball, she and Gavin had danced late into the night, their steps light with reprieve, and not even Elban’s smug amusement had spoiled it. Nor had it kept them from slipping upstairs to their rooms when the ball began to break up. They had brought Theron with them, and Elly had put tea in a pot to steep. But only Theron had still been in the room when the tea was ready: sitting where they’d left him, watching the steam rise.
Elly’s cheeks had reddened as she told Judah that last part, and Judah knew she felt bad for leaving Theron there to fall asleep upright, still wearing his glasses, with the tea cooling in the pot because it hadn’t occurred to him to pour it. “Oh, Jude,” she said with weary amusement. “It’s all so preposterous.”
Judah hadn’t asked what, exactly, she’d found so preposterous. Elly didn’t seem amused at all now. “I asked Gavin what he thought that courtier would do next. He said—well, first he told me not to worry my pretty little head and let the big strong man take care of it, but then I pointed out that the big strong man was mostly why we’d ended up in this mess to begin with, and then we yelled at each other for a while.”
“I would have liked to see that,” Judah said sincerely.
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Although he did almost seem surprised, as if now that we’d spent the night together I wouldn’t ever argue with him again. I think he’s still a little angry, actually. Anyway, he saw the Seneschal this morning after Elban left, and apparently he said that courtier left the House. Gavin said he thinks she’ll be too humiliated to show her face for a while. Which—honestly, I don’t know how much of this is even her fault. She might have found herself stuck in a mess just like we were. But still—” She hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Do you think you could ask Lord Firo what he thinks? I spoke to him last night, for a minute. He seemed kind enough. And Gavin says his courtcraft is impeccable.”
“When did Gavin say that?”
“When he was following you around after that guild dinner. Will you ask him?”
“If I see him.”
Elly smiled. It was a significant smile.
“What?” Judah said.
“Nothing,” Elly said merrily. “You danced with him for quite a while, that’s all. Also, I noticed that he seemed to disappear right around the same time you did, and I’m not in a position to swear to it but I’m fairly sure you didn’t spend the night in our rooms last night. Oh, don’t scowl, Jude. I like him well enough, for a courtier. He’s not young, but the young ones are all such pompous little jays. I can’t see you with one of them, anyway. And I know Gavin says he usually goes with men, but just because he usually does doesn’t mean he always does.”
Judah was silent: first, because she was biting back a burst of indignation, and then—with a flash of inspiration that instantly cooled the indignation—because she realized that if Elly thought she was having an affair with Firo, she wouldn’t comment if Judah disappeared, from time to time. “Think what you want,” she finally said, guessing that Elly would take a lack of denial as a confession, and when Elly’s eyes lit up, she saw that she was right.
“Whatever I think, I promise I’ll keep it to myself.