Anna’s father is informed

Leofwyn Tiler flicked his paintbrush into the pot and straightened his aching back. It was late afternoon, and the sun was already setting: he had thought that he would have an uninterrupted hour or two to work before supper. He hoped it was a customer and not merely another of his garrulous neighbors.

“Come in!”

It was neither. It was a boy of sixteen or seventeen, though not one he recognized from his daughter’s crowd of admirers. Leofwyn hoped he was not to be counted among their number: there was something almost intimidating about the boy, and Leofwyn thought he might be a bit more than Anna could handle.

When Leofwyn rose from his mat on the floor, he found that it had not been merely the difference in height that had unnerved him, and neither was it the everyday insolence of a young male. The boy had a self-​assurance seldom seen on men twice his age, and Leofwyn himself did not possess it in sufficient quantities to feel quite at ease in his presence.

“Good afternoon, Goodman,” the boy said.

“Good afternoon,” Leofwyn said, speaking gruffly to hide his discomposure. “Have we met?”

“No. I’m Anson, son of Arnulf the groom, and a groom myself at Nothelm stables.”

“Ah, Nothelm. Not often out that way. His Grace hasn’t put any tiles in his castle since I’ve been here.”

“His son has, however.”

“That’s so.”

“And that’s the matter I’ve come to speak to you about.”

“About tiles?”

“No, Goodman. About the Duke’s son.”

Leofwyn frowned.

“I’m here to warn you about your daughter.”

“You know my daughter?”

“Hardly well enough to speak to her. But I know what goes on around that stable, and I know who goes in and out, and when. And I know that the Duke’s son has been sneaking out at night, and I know that those happen to be the nights when your daughter is not to be found with her friends, and by now I no longer believe that it is a coincidence.”

“But he’s living all the way out by the lake now.”

“And I think that is why. I think his father found out about it. But Christmas is coming, and he will be coming home for a few weeks. And meanwhile it’s only an hour’s ride, and he doesn’t even have to sneak out of his own castle.”

Leofwyn shook with a growing sense of helpless outrage. The Duke’s son had spent many hours in his workshop with his daughter, but whenever Leofwyn had walked in on them, they’d always had their heads bent over the animal book or the tiles she was making for him. The idea of a Duke’s son—who was betrothed to a Princess—being interested in his daughter was so absurd that he had not considered it before. But if this Duke’s son—who was betrothed to a Princess—was interested in his daughter, it could only mean one thing.

Leofwyn turned his outrage on the bearer of this news. “What is it to you?” he cried. “What brings you here? Do you have a grudge against his lordship or what?”

“No grudge against his lordship, except that he has unfairly engaged the attention of one of the prettiest girls in the valley, if I may say so.”

“Jealous, then?”

“Let us just say that I think it very unfair of him to prevent me and the rest of us from trying to win her. Once a girl’s head has been turned by a Duke’s son, it’s not likely she’ll turn it back to the likes of us again. And really, if it goes on long enough, none of us will consider her when it comes to choosing a wife, if you see what I mean.”

Leofwyn bit the inside of his cheeks to prevent himself from crying aloud. The corners of the boy’s fine mouth curved up slightly, but it was not an insolent smirk—it was only the self-​assured smile of a boy who knows he is right, and who is bold enough to be honest about his motives. Certainly they were selfish, but they were not dishonorable.

And although Leofwyn hated him for being the one to tell him this story, he admired him for it all the same.

“I will speak to my daughter. But I am not the type to say ‘a little bird told me,’ so you might as well know that she’ll probably hate you for it, whether it’s true or not.”

The boy shrugged. “She probably never would have looked twice at me anyway. She won’t thank me for it, but some other boy will. And I think you will, too.”