Chapter 188

Imogen

Vincent Brynmor opened his own door to me, which told me most of what I needed to know before he said a word.

The last time I had stood on this step, in the autumn, there had been a boy to take my bag and a warrior at the gate and Maren in the kitchen doorway with flour on her hands. Now there was only Vincent, in his shirtsleeves, gray-faced, with a dish towel over one shoulder. Behind him the hall was quiet. Somewhere at the back of the house, a radio was playing very low.

He looked at me. Then past me, at the road, as if there might be someone else coming up it.

“You’ve heard,” I said.

“The whole valley’s heard.” His voice was flat. “Harlan of Stonecrest rang me the night of the ruling. He thought I should know, as her mother’s brother.” He stood back from the door. “Come in. You look frozen.”

I went in.

***

He made me tea in Maren’s kitchen and sat down across the table from me, with his big hands folded in front of h