March 1070

After some browsing Eva settled on a statuette of a lounging cat, which when combined with the block of ebony accounted for most of what I paid Geraint. The blocks of chestnut were a negligible expense by comparison, since chestnut trees were fairly common around London; the Romans had brought them over way back when, from what Geraint told me. He also coaxed me into buying his cheapest, most common wand as a reference for me and Eva.

That whole diversion had taken ten minutes, and after carefully pocketing the blocks of wood and the statuette, I passed Eva a dozen pennies left her to go shopping, telling her to not leave the Alley and come back to the bookstore once she was done. She immediately dragged her brother off to the tailor's, and I shook my head as they left.

Not having a lot of interest in the other shops, right then at least, I went into the Tremendous Tomes and found that I'd walked into a cross between a library and a dollar store. There were shelves full of books along one wall – I spotted Rowena going through them, having not even looked my way as I entered – and also sheaves of parchment, pots of ink, and various quills. Book supplies, basically.

I greeted the proprietor Trevor, who was a stooped, balding old man who looked like he was in twilight years, and went over to browse the books. This time Rowena acknowledged my existence, briefly, before going back to her own browsing.

I'd already made copies of the introductory texts Rowena had loaned me and returned the originals, so I kept my browsing confined to anything that seemed to be related to more complex Transfiguration and also to general history and theory. In the end I walked out with five new books and a mumbled agreement from Rowena that I'd meet her back at the inn we'd booked.

Eva and Cuthbert caught me as I was leaving the bookstore. From the looks of it, Cuthbert had escaped the dread fate of having new clothes forced on him. We then went back to the Menagerie, where Cuthbert's new puppy was handed right over to him with a strongly worded suggestion to keep it close and well fed over the next few days to make sure it bonded, while Eva was made to feed her new owl before getting him in a travel cage.

The name was somewhat of a joke because the owl could trivially keep pace with a horse and couldn't get lost, but walking around with a free-flying or perching owl just looked weird.

After that we went back to the inn, put the owl in Eva's room, and spent the rest of the day just wandering around London. Cuthbert detoured to an armorsmith while we were doing this, and came back with a new coat of mail better sized for him.

And that was it, for this first time at least. I planned to make a few more trips throughout the rest of the year, when I could find the time.

Once more, with feeling: I miss cars.

The next day, we made our way back to Berkhamsted, arriving an hour before sundown. Eva, Cuthbert, and the guards went back to the castle, while Rowena split off after I returned her rented horse.

After stabling Shadowfax, I spent the rest of the day buying up small chunks and bits of wood, leftovers from the occasional logging effort. With Berkhamsted Forest essentially off-limits local logging had dropped off, but it hadn't completely stopped; there were still some lightly wooded copses and whatnot around Berkhamsted, if none as dense or close as the forest itself. It wasn't that expensive, and after I'd gotten what I felt was enough for Eva to practice on, I went home.

The next day, only Elfleda came by at the usual time.

"Where's Eva?" I asked as I let her in.

Elfleda took off her cloak, hung it up, and sighed. "She is busy with her new pet, grappling with an inescapable fact, that all animals shit."

I snorted. I couldn't help it. "Not on her clothes, I hope."

"Thankfully not," Elfleda replied. "Last I saw, she was trying to enlist Ninian's help, or at least advice."

Ninian was the man the centaurs had put forth to "represent" them. He was only a few inches shorter than me, and had the kind of broad figure and musculature that suggested he was a centaur changeling. He rarely spent much time in the castle from what I heard, only really coming back to sleep. We'd talked a few times, but our jobs didn't intersect and neither did our social circles, so I couldn't say I really knew him.

"What do you think her chances are? Of getting his help?" I asked, heading back into the main room.

"Of getting his help? Minimal; while he may appreciate a blunt request, he does not strike me as the helpful sort, or someone skilled with looking after owls. Advice, though? She should be able to manage that."

"Blunt request?" I repeated, pulling out a chair for Elfleda.

"Thank you. As for Eva, she was always earnest, but it's clear that her mother did not truly prepare her for such social encounters and arenas. That is not such a problem if she were to marry a minor landholder or heir and be content with such a simple life, but in Robert's court, or a similar one, she would have quickly been subsumed, by Lucille or someone like her." She took the cup, plate, and cutlery I passed her with a nod, then started cutting up the pork. "Teaching her social mores has been a lengthy task. Still, she is more capable now, if decidedly lacking in subtlety, something that will have to be addressed."

"That's good to hear. I think," I said as I sat down.

"She learns quickly. She is simply... starting from behind, as it were." She popped a small, nearly cubical chunk of pork into her mouth. "And her earnestness is, atimes, endearing. For example, she thought I should be incensed by Rowena."

I slowed in the process of cutting up my own meat. "And are you?"

"Are you pursuing her, or courting her?" Elfleda asked.

"No," I replied. "We're just... friends."

"Then what else is there to say?" Elfleda asked, taking another bite.

I frowned slightly. "That's it? Really?"

"Really," she said. "Why are you surprised?"

"I... I mean... I'm not sure..."

"You think me jealous?" Elfleda asked, arching an eyebrow. "I would be, were you involved in a tryst. But as you are not, neither am I." She dabbed at her mouth and set knife and fork aside for the moment. "I think both you and Eva have not fully considered all of the implications of my sight."

"What do you mean?" I asked, taking a bite of my own food.

"I see emotions, and I have gotten quite proficient at understanding what I see. It is not easy to deceive me, and by extension, I do not have to worry over the uncertainties involved in trust. If you say you and Rowena are not courting, I can know at a glance that you are being truthful. As a result, there is no room for insecurity," she explained.

"I didn't think of that," I admitted, shaking my head.

"I thought not. Now, I am of course disappointed you did not take me along, but I can understand you felt apprehensive at such a step. It's endearing in its own right, if also immensely frustrating."

"I'm... sorry?" I said slowly.

"Mmm."

We ate in silence for a bit, and then I asked, "Well, if Eva's not coming, then what are we going to do today?"

"That is up to you," Elfleda said. "But I would not mind hearing you play the lute again. You are very good, from what little I heard."

"Yeah," I said a little blandly. I was, though not because of any significant skill or effort on my part. Sure, I hadn't been terrible when I'd started, but I hadn't been good either. But then Lash had started helping me out there, letting me circumvent my own ineptitude. It had been her parting gift to me. I hadn't played an instrument since the day of her death, not up until recently anyway.

And I was still good at it.

"Ah. A sore point, I see. I did not mean to trouble you," she said.

"No, it..." I sighed. "It's not a problem. Just mixed memories, is all."

After we finished eating I cleaned the table and pulled out my lute. I'd done a little bit of tuning since getting it, but not too much; the strings couldn't handle that much tension compared to what I was used to.

The real issue was what to play. I'd already done Stairway to Heaven, and most of the other songs I remembered, at least in enough detail to play them, were from bands like the Rolling Stones and AC/DC. And, well, playing Sympathy for the Devil or Highway to Hell or anything else like that struck me as not the greatest idea. Sure, I didn't need to include the vocals, but still, no reason to tempt fate.

I spent a few minutes doing basic chords, just getting into the swing of things. Elfleda joined in near the end, humming along in tune. Then I transitioned into "Paint It Black", from there into "I Will Survive", and then went through all the Queen songs I could remember, starting with "Another One Bites the Dust." I didn't try my hand at "Bohemian Rhapsody" though; I only vaguely remembered it, and there was no way I could recreate even a fraction of it with just a lute.

And no, I feel no guilt listing off song names that probably no one will ever get.

Once I went through my repertoire, Elfleda and I switched roles, her humming out songs she remembered and me trying to keep tune. I didn't recognize any of them, but a lot of them sounded like they could be paced as dancing songs, maybe a waltz.

I played for about two hours straight, switching hands until the fingers on both were numb. Elfleda's voice didn't waver once, which was impressive.

"I shall have to get a lyre for next time," she said.

"You don't have on here?" I asked.

She shook her head. "It has been some time since I engaged in such... recreation," she said. "Thank you for the experience."

"No problem," I said, moving to put my lute back.

Once I set it back in its place on the shelf, Elfleda asked, "Were you going to ask for my hair at any point?"

I froze, my back to her. "So Eva told you that, huh."

"I imagine she thought she was being clever and subtle, but her approach was too direct to not see her intent," Elfleda said. "Well?"

I lingered at the shelf for a bit, then sighed and went back to my seat. "No, I'm not."

"May I ask why?"

"There are a few reasons."

Elfleda shot me an irritated look.

"Alright, alright," I said. "It's not that it wouldn't be useful, I guess, but... it's not just the hair. I mean, if we barely knew each other, then maybe, or if our interactions were different, but as it is... it's practically romantic."

"And why is that a problem?" she asked.

"Because I've fucked up the life of every woman that was ever romantically interested in me," I said bluntly.

"How so?"

I took a deep breath and considered, briefly, just not saying anything. And then I considered who was asking. Elfleda could see what I felt, could draw inferences. She probably saw shades of regret and frustration and loss. But she didn't really get it, couldn't properly contextualize it.

So I thought, fuck it, why not?

"Well, let's see. I guess it all started when I spent a decade thinking I'd accidentally burned my first girlfriend to death. Then there were the ones that ruined their lives trying to help me, the ones that were started on false pretenses, the ones that..." I swallowed, looked away, and pushed through. "That died for me, in my arms."

Technically speaking, Lash hadn't died in my arms. But practically speaking, I didn't see much of a difference.

"So yeah," I continued. "I'm very hesitant to get into any kind of relationship, because every time, both of us have come out the worse for it." I went to take a drink, and found that my water had practically frozen, so I slid it to the side. "And I'm not the type for just a casual, sexual relationship either, so there's-"

Elfleda's lips interrupted me. They were cold, freezing. At some point she must've gotten up out of her seat and come over, because now my chin was tilted upward to meet her as she leaned forward. For a moment, surprise mingled with desire and simple, raw need. Then, as the surprise faded, one of us leaned back, I wasn't sure who. Maybe it was both. All I felt and saw was Elfleda's reluctance and frustration as we parted.

And maybe my own as well.

She cast her eyes downward, avoiding my gaze, and looked me over from the neck down. I panted, keenly aware of her scent and the curves of her body, right in front of me.

Then she shifted, moving to sit on the edge of the table besides me, and looked down at my brow with a complicated expression. I don't know what she saw there, in me, but she looked away after a moment.

"Does the end matter, if the journey was enjoyable?" she asked.

I thought of Susan, of a knife sticking out of her chest, her heart. A knife I'd used.

With a hoarse voice, I said,

"Yes."