Chapter 345: I Didn’t Expect To like Them

She stood on the threshold with her hand on the doorframe, and could not make her feet move.

"Come on," said Elara, from the hearth. "Don’t dawdle. You’ll let the draft in."

She went inside.

Behind her, the two kings ducked under the lintel, with some difficulty. Kaelen hit his head. He swore, quietly, and rubbed it, and Elara said without turning around, "Mind the beam," and he said, "Yes, madam," in a very small voice.

Something bleated.

It came from the corner, a long, indignant, tremulous sound. Morgana turned. A small brown goat with a white blaze on her forehead and one crooked ear was standing in the middle of the floor, chewing steadily on what appeared to be the hem of Kaelen’s coat.

"Oh," said Morgana.

She had not noticed her come in. The goat looked up at her with a flat yellow eye, and swallowed, and bleated again, a note of deep reproach.

"Biddy."

The goat said nothing.

She crossed the room in two strides and dropped to her knees on the flagstones. She flung her arms around the thin brown neck. It smelled of hay and warm animal and something sour. The goat stood perfectly still and endured it, with the patient expression of an animal who had expected to be treated this way.

"Oh, you terrible creature," she whispered. "Oh, you awful thing. I missed you."

"She’s been impossible," said Elara.

"Has she?"

"She won’t eat. She stands at the door every evening and cries. I’ve had to put her on a lead." Elara stirred the pot, with her back to them. Her shoulders were very stiff. "She’s got attached."

"She’s a goat."

"She’s a very particular goat."

"She’s eating my coat," said Kaelen.

"Is she?"

"The hem."

"Hm," said Elara. "That’s a good sign. She only eats things she likes."

Kaelen looked down at the little brown head, and the busily chewing jaws, and the ragged edge of his best leather jacket. He opened his mouth. He shut it. A strange, reluctant smile crept across his face.

"I did say," said Morgana, from the floor. "She’d eat your coat."

"You did."

"Told you."

"I’ll give her the scarf," said Kaelen, and unwound it, with great ceremony, and held it out.

Biddy took it.

She chewed, with enormous satisfaction, and Kaelen stood watching her in an attitude of absurd tenderness. Morgana pressed her face into the goat’s neck, and laughed, helplessly, into the rough fur, and felt something knot in her chest and give way.

"There’s stew," said Elara.

She had turned. She stood by the hearth with the pot in her hands, thin and straight and proud, and her face was dry. Her eyes, though, were very bright.

"Sit," she said. "All of you."

They sat.

It was an extraordinary thing. She sat on the long bench by the fire, with a wooden bowl in her hands, and watched two kings eat stew at her mother’s table. Draeven sat very straight, with his knees tucked in, and ate with grave concentration. Kaelen had folded himself onto a stool that was far too small, and was making a heroic attempt not to look as though his knees were around his ears. The firelight flickered on their faces. The goat lay down across Kaelen’s feet and went to sleep.

"This is very good," said Draeven.

"It’s rabbit."

"It is excellent rabbit."

"It’s old rabbit." Elara sat across from him, with her own bowl barely touched. "But thank you. You’ve good manners. Does she make you wash up?"

"Not so far."

"She will."

"I shall do it gladly."

"Hm." Elara turned her narrowed gaze on him. "You’ve a look about you, Your Majesty."

"I have been told."

"A hungry look. Like a man who hasn’t been fed in a hundred years."

Morgana’s spoon stopped.

Draeven looked at her mother. His face did not change. But something moved very deep behind his eyes, quick and startled and unguarded, and for a moment he looked, quite plainly, like a boy who’d been caught.

"Two hundred," he said quietly.

"Ah."

"But I take your point."

"I’m only saying." Elara lifted her bowl, and sipped, and looked at him over the rim. "Eat more. You’re all bones."

He ate.

Kaelen made a faint, strangled noise into his stew.

"And you," said Elara.

"Me?"

"You’ve a loud look."

"I’m told it’s charming."

"Who told you?"

"Morgana."

"Did she?"

"She said I’m the stupidest man she’s ever met."

"That’s not what I said," said Morgana.

"It’s close."

"I said you were the stupidest, bravest...."

"There," said Elara. "I knew it." She put down her spoon. She looked from one man to the other, and then at her daughter. Her eyes were very soft. "Well. I suppose I could do worse."

Silence.

It fell across the little room like a dropped cloth. Nobody moved. The fire popped. Somewhere in the thatch, a mouse rustled.

"Ma," said Morgana.

"I’m not saying yes."

"I know."

"I’m not saying anything." Elara folded her arms. Her thin face was set. "I’m saying that I didn’t expect to like them."

"You haven’t said you like them."

"I haven’t said I don’t."

"That’s not the same."

"It’s very nearly the same." But her mouth was twitching. She rubbed her hand across her eyes, quickly, and cleared her throat. "Now. I think you should all go and sit by the fire, and I’ll clear the bowls, and then we shall have a conversation."

"About what?" said Morgana.

"You know what about."

She did.

Draeven moved at the same time as she did.

It was a small thing. She had risen to take the bowls, and her mother had reached for them, and the first king had moved, quick and quiet, to help. He took Elara’s bowl from her hand, and as he did, the back of his fingers brushed against her wrist. For a moment, no more.

He went absolutely still.

It happened so quickly that nobody else saw. He did not flinch. His expression did not change. But something passed across his face like the shadow of a cloud, a quick, cold, stunned flicker, and the gold of his eyes went suddenly sharp.