Burle stopped walking. “You didn’t tell her that, did you?”
“No, sir.”And considering the way Burle looked and sounded right now, he was very glad he hadn’t said anything.
“Smart man. When a woman’s riled up about something, the biggest mistake a man can make is telling her it’s not important. She won’t hear it the way the words are meant, and sometimes it can take a long time to mend things between a man and a woman—if they can be mended at all. If she thinks something is important, it’s best for the man to treat it as such.”
Gray thought about that. “Because treating the thing that’s got her riled as important tells her that she’s important?”
“That’s the way of it,” Burle agreed, continuing on to the shed.
When they entered the shed, Gray wished he had straightened the tools, swept the floor. Something. But, Hell’s fire, he hadn’t expected Cassie’s father to show up!
Burle pushed the old blanket aside and pursed his lips. “You gonna get a new chair to put in that corner? With a better lamp, that would give you a place to read. I’m figuring you like books, since a bookcase is one of the pieces requested.”
“I like books, stories and such,” Gray said. “And I’m studying the Protocol books.”
“Protocol is a good thing to know,” Burle said, nodding.
But Gray’s thoughts had followed a different path. “You would know stories about when Cassie was little.”
“I know stories,” Burle agreed. “Might even share a few.”
Gray smiled. He wanted to hear those stories, wanted to share more than the now of Cassie’s life. “When I have a daughter, can I call her Kitten?”
Burle made a strange sound. “You’re skipping a few steps in the dance, aren’t you?”
“Huh?”
Burle studied him a bit too long before saying, “You know how to use a hammer?”
“Not to build things.”
“You want to learn?”
Gray hesitated. He did want to learn, and he wanted to spend time with Burle,who understood an important difference between a daughter and a Queen—and had shown him, and everyone else, that Cassie understood the difference. That was something the Queens who had controlled Dena Nehele before the witch storm killed them all hadn’t understood. But he didn’t want to risk what might happen if he wasn’t honest before they began.
“I can’t work a full day,” Gray said, feeling bitter because he didn’t want to be seen as someone less. “Not yet. I was . . . tortured . . . when I was younger, and sometimes my body doesn’t work right.”
“Your body’s not working right because you overworked it recently?” Burle asked. “That’s what you’re telling me?”
Gray nodded, unable to look the older man in the eyes. “Shira says I can work a few hours a day, but not more than that, not yet, and Vae will get yappy about it if I try to do more. And not just yappy. Vae bites.”
“And who might Vae be?”
“She’s a Sceltie.”
“Ah.” Burle nodded. “Heard of them. Haven’t met one.”
“You will,” Gray said darkly. “Vae has opinions about everything.”
Burle looked at the room. “Tell you what. I’ll trade you. You help me for two hours and learn a bit in the process, and I’ll give you two hours of labor to help take care of your work. And we’ll see how it goes.”
“Okay.”
Burle didn’t think less of him for not being able to work a full day. Didn’t say anything about the torture. Was just as matter-of-fact about it all as Lucivar had been.
Something inside Gray relaxed.
“Let’s start by taking some measurements,” Burle said. “Then, while we’re taking care of some of your work, we can talk about how to make some furniture that will suit you and still make my girl happy.”
Later that evening, after a meal when no one seemed able to relax enough to just talk, Cassidy and Burle went out walking, heading toward open fields that were away from the house—and the people.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” Burle asked.
Cassidy linked her arm with her father’s and said nothing.
“All right,” Burle said after a minute. “Let me put it this way: what’s wrong?”
“Theran is a pigheaded ass.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion, Kitten, but I’m not sure you’re entitled to shame him in front of the people he has to work with.”
“Why not? He does it to me.”
Burle stopped walking, and Cassidy felt an odd chill in the air.
Mother Night. Her father was a Warlord who wore Tiger Eye, and under most circumstances, Burle wouldn’t think of going up against a Warlord Prince. But fathers weren’t always careful when they stepped up to defend a daughter.
“He blocks everything I try to do,” Cassidy said hurriedly. “He won’t let me go out to the Provinces to meet the remaining Queens and see who might be willing—and capable—of doing more than they’re doing now. Hell’s fire! He doesn’t tell the housekeeper how to do her work, but he’s trying to make every decision for me!”
Burle hesitated—and the air around them changed back to evening cool.
“From what I’ve gathered, going out and about just yet may not be the wisest—or safest—thing for a Queen to do,” he said.
“But Theran won’t let those Queens come to Grayhaven either. He even got his back up when I wanted to go into town with Gray and look at plants for the garden.”
“He might have his reasons.”
“I’m not pretty enough to impress anyone,” Cassidy muttered.
“That’s foolish talk, and you know it.”
Is it really that foolish? she wondered. Since she didn’t want her father challenging Theran—and getting killed because of it—she held her tongue.
“Time for plain talk, Kitten,” Burle said. “Queens do important work, and they are as necessary to a land as they are to its people. They can make or break a Territory. Hell’s fire, they can make or break a Province or a village. But you’ve missed something along the way, my girl. What you do is work, and when you accepted this contract, you were hired for a particular job.”
“No one seems to want me to do that job,” Cassidy said, her voice roughened by frustration.