Page 48 of Edge of the Wild

They shared a smile – a quiet, private one that only they could share. Only as the loved ones of these two particular, stricken relatives could understand.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to go,” Tessa said. “Truly. Although…”

“Although?”

“Perhaps you’ve learned a lesson about impulsiveness?”

He shook his head, grin becoming wry, and glanced back toward the window.

“Rune.” She was better rested since he’d awakened, but still a bit ragged-feeling at the edges. She supposed that was what gave her the courage to shift forward in her chair and press on firmly with him – that, and the rare advantage of having him all to herself, Hilda knitting quietly in the corner. “Everyone was so worried over you. Your mother especially. She barely ate; she didn’t sleep. I know that she for one is glad you didn’t go to the festival – that you’re here resting and recovering.”

He turned back to her – more slowly, deliberately, enough so that her pulse jumped. “What about you?” If he was aiming for coy, he landed on anxious instead. “Were you worried?”

“Of course.”

He held her gaze, his lashes flickering; his pulse visible in his throat. It was, she realized, the first time they’d been relatively alone since he woke, and the moment sparked and fizzed in a wholly unexpected way.

She couldn’t help but think of Leif, on the morning of departure; that quiet sadness about him, an energy so different from Rune’s. So different, even, from his own energy, when she’d first met him. Nothing had turned out like any of them had expected, she supposed.

Tessa took a deep breath and looked away first, absently smoothing the letter that lay in her lap.

The crinkle of the parchment caught his attention. “What’s that? Word from Uncle?”

“From my sister, actually.” She unfolded the letter and let her gaze wander across it, shocked all over again by its contents.

“Bad news? You’re frowning.”

“Not bad, exactly.” She shook her head and met his gaze. “Unexpected.” He looked curious, so she said, “I don’t know if I should share – it’s, well, it’s not my story. But…”

He grinned. “But you’re dying to tell someone?”

“I am!” She sat forward in her chair, dropping her voice to a whisper, though Hilda was the only witness. “You musn’t share this with anyone. I mean it.”

He mimed locking his lips shut and throwing away the key.

“If word got out, my sister would be ruined – not that Amelia cares about that sort of thing. Promise you won’t say anything.”

He tried to respond – without moving his lips.

Tessa swatted at his blanket-covered knees with the letter, until he laughed – which set her to laughing as well.

“I mean it,” she said through her chuckles.

“Who would I tell? I don’t know anyone in Drakewell, and I’m not a secret-spreader besides. Mother still has no idea what happened to that one set of knitting needles she lost when I was five.”

Hilda snorted, but didn’t acknowledge either of their glances.

“My sister,” Tessa said after a deep breath, surprised by the intensity of the sympathetic nerves that fluttered in her stomach. “Amelia. She’s older than me – I told you about her stallion.”

He nodded.

“She’s always been such a tomboy. She’s beautiful, and she always dresses smartly for balls and dinners – but she’d rather be out riding with our household guard that gossiping behind a fan. She goes hunting, and hawking, and – well, you get the idea. She’s a very serious sort of person, and not prone to silliness.

“Marriage was always something all three of us were going to do. As a duty. I always assumed that Amelia would eventually land a lord she could stomach, for the sake of the family. But I didn’t think she would ever bein love.”

His brows lifted. “Not ever?”

“I didn’t think Lia was the type for romance.”

---