Night had fallen. It was the first time since our arrival that we had had more than a few moments together. He sat on a log, his injured leg stretched straight in front of him. I crouched by the fire, trying to warm my hands. We were outside a temporary shelter set up for the Queen, tending a very smoky fire. Burrich had wanted her to settle in one of the few intact buildings left in Neatbay, but she had refused, insisting on staying close to her warriors. Her guard came and went freely, in her shelter and at her fire. Burrich frowned over their familiarity, but also approved her loyalty. “Your father, too, was like that,” he observed suddenly as two of Kettricken’s guard emerged from her shelter and went to relieve others still on watch.
“Didn’t take warnings?” I asked in surprise.
Burrich shook his head. “No. Always his soldiers, coming and going, at all hours. I’ve always wondered when he found the privacy to create you.”
I must have looked shocked, for Burrich suddenly flushed as well. “Sorry. I’m tired and my leg is … uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking what I was saying.”
I found a smile unexpectedly. “It’s all right,” I said, and it was. When he had found out about Nighteyes, I was afraid he was going to banish me again. A jest, even a rough jest, was welcome. “You were saying about warnings?” I asked humbly.
He sighed. “You said it. We are as we are. And he said it. Sometimes they don’t give you a choice. They just bond to you.”
Somewhere off in the darkness, a dog howled. It was not really a dog. Burrich glared at me. “I can’t control him at all,” I admitted.