Verath the Red (Dragonwall Series #3)

Chapter 22 - Unexpected Comfort

Brezen

Claire gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the tent's candlelight before looking around. It was sparsely decorated. A few fabric inserts shielded private areas from view, but the rest of it was open and housed a large makeshift table, around which nearly thirty stools and chairs were occupied, mostly by Drengr. She spotted a few Riders. Her eyes lingered over their clothing. Long-sleeved tunics with fitted vests, leggings, bracers, boots.

At her entrance, the interior fell silent. The tent's occupants gazed at her with a mutual lack of recognition. Shoulders were slumped. Their dull gazes told her enough. They had lost a great deal today.

She dropped her gaze, feeling suddenly stupid for playing the victim, for being angry with Koldis and Jovari. She may have been forced to witness each death, but her pain was temporary. Their pain was real. A raw reflection on every face in the room told her as much. And she was ashamed of herself.

She looked up again and found a pair of eyes trained on her, standing at the head of the table. She blinked, then relaxed. It wasn't Reyr, but he looked a hell of a lot like him. Yet, the male didn't look enough like Reyr to be his twin. Her chest tightened.

She cleared her throat. "Forgive the intrusion. I am looking for the fort leader."

The male gave a subtle jerk of his head. Just then, the tent flaps rustled. His eyes darted past her and widened as he spoke, "Lord Jovari? Lord Koldis?"

Jovari and Koldis came to stand beside her.

The male bent over and whispered something to a dark-haired female before striding over. His steps were heavy. He came to a stop before them, looking at Jovari and Koldis. "I did not expect to see your welcome faces, but I am glad of it. How are you even here?"

Koldis cleared his throat. "We were...in the neighborhood. Thought you might need some help. Got here as quickly as we could."

"You are most welcome!" His relief was obvious.

Koldis nodded. "Allow me to introduce Lady Claire. The king's...ward."

He took a step back, frowning. "The king's...? Oh..." His gaze assessed her, taking in her journey-worn tunic and leggings, her pack with Cyrus's Sverak strapped to her back, and her disheveled hair that had long since come undone.

While this happened, mutters erupted around the council table, followed by the sound of scraping chairs. Everyone in the tent stood and fell into deep bows.

She frowned, half expecting her mind to erupt into speculative voices. But it wouldn't. Not with Cyrus maintaining the protective barricade. Thank the gods for that. She hardly wanted to hear their thoughts about her. She could guess well enough what they were saying.

This? This is the famous Lady Claire? We were expecting so much more. She doesn't even look like a lady—a gutter rat, perhaps.

"Claire," said Koldis, "this is Byron, Reyr's nephew."

"Oh..." Her chest instantly tightened as recognition hit her.

Byron straightened. "Well met, Lady Claire. Well met, indeed. We have heard much about you." He turned back to Koldis and Jovari. "As you can imagine, your appearance is a surprise. We did not expect reinforcements, but we are glad to have you. We will take every Drengr we can get. I must thank the king personally for sending you to us."

"The king did not send us." Koldis pointed a thumb at her. "She did."

She tensed.

Byron bowed to her again. "Well then, we are forever grateful, my lady." He hesitated, his head tilting to the side. "Were you...Uncle Reyr said something about a warning. Was that you? Is that what he meant?"