Burrich was looking at me oddly. “Go to bed,” he suggested. “A bleak spirit is sometimes what follows an overindulgence in elfbark. Or so I have heard.”
I nodded. To myself, I wondered if that might account for Verity’s often dour moods.
“Get some real rest. In the morning, things may look better.” He gave a bark of laughter and smiled wolfishly. “Then again, they may not. But the rest will at least leave you better prepared to face them.” He paused, sobering. “Molly came to my room, earlier.”
“Is she all right?” I demanded to know.
“Bringing candles she knew I did not need,” Burrich went on as if I had not spoken. “Almost as if she wanted an excuse to speak to me …”
“What did she say?” I rose from my chair.
“Not very much. She is always very correct with me. I am very direct with her. I simply told her you missed her.”
“And she said?”
“Nothing.” He grinned. “But she blushes very prettily.” He sighed, suddenly serious. “And, as directly, I asked her if anyone had given her any further cause to fear. She squared her little shoulders and tucked in her chin like I was trying to force a bit in her teeth. She said she thanked me kindly for my concern, as she had before, but that she was capable of seeing to herself.” In a quieter voice, he asked, “Will she ask for help if she needs it?”
“I don’t know,” I confessed. “She has her own store of courage. Her own way of fighting. She turns and confronts things. Me, I slink about and try to hamstring them when they aren’t looking. Sometimes, she makes me feel a coward.”