"I brought you a muffin."

Maelyn looked up from her book. "Oh! Thank you." She smiled at Heidel coming into the chamber with a metal plate, her braided hair limp from the kitchen's heat.

"You looked distracted at supper." Heidel placed the muffin on Maelyn's side table and shifted her skirt to sit on the bed. Maelyn sat with a book spread across her lap, her hair let down from its pins. She hadn't changed into her nightdress.

Maelyn sighed. "Wasn't a good day. Two reports of those bandits attacking women for their hair. In Hexwick, though." She gave Heidel a pointed look. "I can't get Uncle Jarrod out of my mind. And the wretched Book Miser wouldn't trade with me." She tapped the pages on her lap. "I've read this before."

Heidel shrugged. "He probably doesn't want to trade with you."

"That's what I think."

"How could Father stand him?" Heidel said. "I'm so glad Dorian doesn't work here anymore. I hated all of Father's advisors."

"So did I." Maelyn remembered them surrounding her father's throne, those men with hooked noses and scheming eyes. They smelled like greed to her. Yet somehow, Father had valued them.

"You don't need advisors." Heidel smirked. "You have me."

Maelyn laughed. "And Briette! More than enough wisdom." They were steady and reliable, those two. Heidel's temper was unpredictable, but she was fearless. And Briette was clear-sighted.

Maelyn closed her book and put it aside. "Well then, how would you advise me?"

"On what?"

"On how to get another book."

Heidel pushed aside her fringe, which stuck to her clammy forehead. "What about that Willow person?"

"Oh, you met him?" Maelyn asked.

Heidel grinned. "He came into the kitchen with Ivy. I like him! He seems... wholesome, I guess. Unspoiled, you know?"

Maelyn nodded.

"Send him to the Book Miser," Heidel said. "I bet he'll have a better chance."

"Why?"

"He has an honest face."

"I don't?"

Heidel released her loud laugh. "You know what I mean! He doesn't like us because he's a moldy old onion. But he'll like Willow."

"I think Willow has gone back to Grunwold."

"Not tonight, he hasn't!" Heidel laughed again. "Trust me, it'll be two days before he's ready to ride again. Think he's staying in Merridell. We could send Arialain for him."

Good suggestion. Maelyn needed excuses to see Willow if she was to understand him. He did seem wholesome, as Heidel had said.

But maybe that was his ruse.

"You wished to see me, my lady?"

Maelyn gave him a careful smile from the safe perch of her throne. She had assumed a gown of cranberry red which underscored the walnut tint of her hair and the bright ivory of Mother's cape. She had pinned her curls with care and precision. Hopefully, she looked impressive.

"How are you, Willow?"

"I'm well, my lady." His voice swelled in the empty throne room. Maelyn had sent Arialain, grumbling and stomping, to fetch him from Merridell with the sun barely awake. She wanted to see him before her daily visitors.

She also wouldn't embarrass him by asking about his condition. He would heal soon enough. And he showed no annoyance at the early summons, which she appreciated.

"I've written to your mother." Maelyn reached for a small scroll beside her throne. "Expressing my sorrow for the loss of Rowan. He was a good and faithful messenger."

She watched Willow take the scroll and detected gratitude in his eyes. One thing she noticed was that he dressed better than Rowan, wearing a long, hooded tunic of pine green, and brown riding gloves. His boots were free of mud. Not that Rowan hadn't been clean, but he'd always looked a bit weary and weather-beaten.

"Thank you, my lady. This will mean a lot to her."

"Please let me know if I can be of assistance." Maelyn gave him another detached smile. She wasn't sure why she found it hard to smile naturally at Willow. Why she felt like she had to be careful.

Willow bowed. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes." Maelyn reached below the legs of her throne and withdrew the book she was reading the night before. "I have an errand for you."

Willow looked surprised. His hands were reverent as he took the book and read the title. "The Wounded Warrior."

"Yes, it was my father's. He brought it back from Bella Reino, only five copies made."

"Beautiful." Willow turned the pages of carefully inked letters. "A good tale?"

"A great tale. I've read it many times. I'd like you to take it into Creaklee for me and secure a trade with the Book Miser."

This confused Willow and Maelyn had to explain the Book Miser to him. The concept seemed to fascinate him.

"So he hoards his books like a dragon with his gold?" Willow grinned. "I love it. Can't wait to meet him."

"Be careful," Maelyn said. "He is easily offended."

Willow clasped the book to his chest and bowed. "I shall make it my personal quest to trade this book for you." As he stood, the morning rays slanted through the stained-glass windows and landed on his yellow hair, giving him a golden glow. Maelyn forgot to breathe for a moment. He had an almost angelic beauty, this man. She had never seen his like.

"Uh... speaking of personal quests," Maelyn said, hoping he didn't notice her reaction. "I—I must ask that when you deliver messages from Grunwold, you bring them to me directly. Don't let anyone else touch them, not even my sisters. Do you understand?"

A light blush crept up Willow's cheeks. "Forgive me. I was foolish."

"What did you train for? Before you became King Jarrod's messenger?"

"I didn't train. I studied," Willow said. But Maelyn saw his defenses falling into place as clearly as a metal gate dropping in front of the castle door.

"What did you study?"

"Everything." Willow laughed. "Everything I could get my hands on."

"How did you come to be adopted?"

"How did you?"

Maelyn almost flinched. It was not appropriate for him to respond this way. Yet her rebuke got caught in her throat and she couldn't speak it.

"I'm only pointing out that it's a personal question," Willow said gently. "Perhaps when we know each other better? I mean no disrespect, and I'm very grateful for the letter you've written to my mother."

Maelyn nodded. He gave her an easy smile and backed away, holding up the book. "I won't fail you in this! Have no worry."

Maelyn watched him leave with mixed feelings. He'd been deliberately vague. Therefore, he had something to hide. At the very least, she had things to be thankful for. Uncle Jarrod wasn't coming for another six weeks. And she'd gain another book without a verbal tussle with that miserable miser.