The smell of herbal tea was a sharp but welcome scent. Malcolm leaned over the steaming mug, allowing it to warm his face, almost able to forget the foot of snow that had fallen outside during the night. Jared dragged a chair from under the table to join him, raking a blunt butter knife over a piece of thick, toasted bread. Malcolm had long called the Baron of Warrick his friend, their relationship stretching back to his teen years. It seemed a lifetime ago that they had raced out into the snow on a morning much like this one, to build forts and hurtle snowballs at one another, Malcolm’s brothers in tow. Now the idea of facing the brisk and unforgiving cold of Frost was the last thing either of them looked forward to.

“How did you sleep?” Malcolm asked.

“Your guest bed creaks,” Jared told him.

Malcolm smiled, offering a coy, almost guilty look. “Everything creaks around here,” he said.

“Early warning system,” came Jared’s quick retort.

“Oh?” Malcolm looked across at him a little confused.

“In case someone is having more fun than you.”

Malcolm laughed. “No fun in this house.”

“Not since Vanessa?” Jared asked.

“Not ever,” Malcolm admitted. “Vanessa was never far from Mayce once we were wed.”

“A dutiful woman,” Jared remarked, to which Malcolm only smiled.

With breakfast consumed and the dishes washed and put away, Malcolm stoked the fire, adding another log before the pair of them dressed and got ready to face the cold world beyond the snug confinement of the cottage. Jared pulled on his boots and took a woollen hat from his pack to don before stepping outside. In his gloved hands he held a pruning tool, ready to best demonstrate to Malcolm how the grapevines should be trimmed and prepared for the season of Bloom.

Malcolm followed in his warmest winter gear and a sturdy pair of leather boots, finished with a watertight stain that kept the insides dry. The stitching was waxed to make sure nothing got in to chill his toes to the bone through his thick woollen socks. He pulled on his tabard and a short but heavy cloak, braced for the world beyond the comforts of the cabin, and followed his friend out into the field.

The grapevines lay dormant, stripped of their summer leaves. “In Bloom they will do most of their growing,” Jared had explained, “so don’t be alarmed by how much we take off today,” he said. Jared pruned back one of the vines heavily, leaving two canes exposed. “We train these into the new arms,” he demonstrated, “and next winter we will have more canes to choose from, where we do exactly the same thing as we are today.”

Malcolm watched, quick to pick up what his friend was teaching. They tied the new arms down to the wire Malcolm had trained between the posts some years prior, and worked their way along the vines, keeping their work neat and tidy.

“How did dinner go?” Jared asked, following a long spell of which the pair had worked in comfortable silence.

Malcolm cut a few more canes away, giving himself a moment to reflect on the dinner he had attended a few days prior, before providing his answer. As always, Malcolm chose to answer politically, even in the presence of his dearest friend. “Splendid.”

The sudden arch of Jared’s brow seemed to suggest he believed there was more to the story, but rather than ask, he allowed his continued silence to pressure Malcolm for more detail.

“The food was very lavish.”

“As are all things Andaris,” Jared replied.

Malcolm looked down the grapevine at him and smiled as he pushed an amused sound through his nose. “I found myself in good company.”

“But?”

How long had it been, Malcolm wondered, that Jared had been able to read him like a book. “But, I found it odd that the baron wasn’t in attendance.”

Jared stopped what he was doing and started cleaning away some of the discarded canes. He carried them over to an ever growing pile they would leave to dry out over the summer to use as kindling the following winter. When he returned, he stood with his hands on his hips and watched Malcolm at work. “I hear he’s been arrested.”

“Arrested?” Malcolm said, “whatever for?”

“It’s conjecture at this stage,” Jared explained. “One of my men stationed in the city said he heard the jailer's wife gossiping about it. Whether or not it’s true…”

Malcolm blinked, as if he had just then realised that he had stopped working, instead stood with mouth agape, trying to put all the puzzle pieces together. “His family did not speak of this over dinner, but I did get a letter from Penelope while they were returning to the capital following their stay in Mayce. She mentioned something about… well, not holding the sins of the father against a child, basically.”

“Oh dear,” Jared said, “then there is probably some truth to it? I wonder what he did… and, of course, what it means regarding your engagement to lady Andaris.”

“The king has still made no announcement,” Malcolm reminded him.

“Do you plan to travel to Burhan with him?” Jared asked.

“A few days from now.”

“Shit.”

Malcolm laughed, it was unlike Jared to sound so… frank.

“And if a match is struck?” He asked.

Malcolm sighed. “What will be, will be.”

“I know you don’t believe that,” Jared said.

“Speak your mind, friend.”

Jared leaned against one of the posts, arm rested at its top. “You seem… lighter,” Jared said, “the Malcolm I’ve known over the last few years worried more.”

Malcolm scoffed. His friend was right, he had tended to dwell on things that more often than not were out of his control. What had changed? He smiled, gaze pointed at his feet. Was there really any point in worrying about something he had little influence over?

Malcolm shrugged and got back to work. Jared just smiled and shook his head, sure there was something his friend wasn’t telling him.

“And what of Marcus?” Malcolm inquired after his eldest son.

The king paused where he stood, the frail skin of his old hands stark against the weather stonework of the low wall surrounding the royal garden. He looked out beyond the moat at the foot of the wall, surveying his realm with a knowing look.

“I’ve secured a match for Marcus,” the king finally spoke.

Malcolm scarcely heard the words, his heart pounding in his ears. Could it be so? Would he really have the freedom to choose who he married? It would be a challenge to convince the baron of Burhan, he knew, after the letter that had been sent. Wait, Malcolm thought to himself, the king had secured a match? If not with Elyna Burhan, then who?

“My king?”

Alter looked across at his son in law and smiled. “All in good time, my son. There are still documents to be signed.”

“Is it favourable?” Malcolm asked, sure the king would offer little more by way of explanation.

“Very,” replied the king.

“And of the Burhan girl?”

“Go with my blessing,” Atler said, smiling.

Malcolm bowed and moved to take his leave.

“Malcolm,” the king called after him.

Malcolm stopped and turned to face the king, “your majesty?”

“How many will Mayce take?”

“We have little room for more than twenty, my king.”

“Two hundred,” the king confirmed.

Malcolm pressed his teeth together, a soft line drawn at the centre of his brow where it pulled together. That was too many, it would cripple the village. He could send fifty of them to Endor, but with the duke there taking more than his fair share, perhaps he would no longer require the workers for the mines and their deal would be undone.

“Don’t give me that look,” Atler said.

“What look?” Malcolm challenged, smiling.

“The same look Jared’s father gave me last night over dinner when I told him I expect Warrick to take fifteen hundred men.”

Malcolm closed his eyes and relaxed his features. He smiled at the king. “I’ll do my best.”

“You’ll do better than that,” the king remarked. “I have every faith in you.”

Malcolm bowed again and left the company of the king to cross the garden and return to his horse. The trip to the cottage far beyond the city walls passed like a dream, but upon his arrival, Malcolm discovered that his friend had already departed, no doubt to return to Warrick, he thought. Inside on the dining room table, Jared had left him a note.

Dear Malcolm,

I’m bound for the capital where I will meet with my father and accompany him to Warrick. If you do not hear from me before Bloom, expect to see me again when we meet for your brother’s wedding.

Until then, my dearest friend, fare thee well.

Jared

Malcolm tucked the letter away and packed a bag, tomorrow he would begin his trip to Burhan, travelling the short distance from the small farmstead to the docks where he would go by ship to the land of mist and oak.