Free The Truth-Teller's Tale by Sharon Shinn Page B

“and we’ll throw the wreath in.”
    Father went in, and Mother never came out—but that, too, was a tradition on Wintermoon Eve, at least at our house. The two of them napped together, or perhaps took a couple of hours to love each other, while Adele and I stayed outside and watched the fire. I tended to be cautious with the logs, putting on a fresh one only when the blaze looked as if it might die down; Adele would add them with abandon, piling on three, five, six new ones while there was plenty of fuel still on the fire. It didn’t matter. There was always more wood than we needed to see us through the coldest night.
    Shortly before midnight, I was kneeling by the fire when I saw Adele turn her head and seem to listen to the wind. “Someone’s coming,” she said, though it was hard to hear much through the crackling of the wood. Sure enough, a few minutes later, I caught the clop of shod hooves on the cobblestoned road—and a few minutes after that, I heard the mixed sounds of a man’s voice and women’s laughter.
    â€œMelinda’s back,” I said, coming to my feet. “It sounds like Roelynn is with her.”
    â€œAnd Micah,” Adele said. “He must have driven them here.”
    I wouldn’t have recognized Micah’s low-pitched voice late at night when I was thinking about other things, but that was Adele for you. She never overlooked anything.
    Sure enough, the three shadowy figures coming around the corner of the inn stepped into the firelight and revealed themselves to be Roelynn, Micah, and Melinda.
    â€œHow was the dinner?” I asked. “Was it grand?”
    â€œVery elegant,” Melinda said. “The food was excellent, and all the guests were deeply impressed. Quite a success, I would say.”
    â€œIt was so very dull!” Roelynn gave as her own critique. “But everyone complimented me on my gown. And the food was really good. I’m sure my father will want to have another dinner next year—and the next year and the next.”
    Adele looked at Micah, whose thin face seemed even thinner and more sober by firelight. “And you?” she asked. “What did you think?”
    â€œOh, well, Micah got to sit by all the pretty girls and act all lord of the manor,” his sister answered for him. “I thought Allea Marsters was going to forget all decorum and sit right in his lap. He didn’t seem to mind, though. She was wearing a most—revealing—gown. And my father thought I was showing too much skin!”
    â€œAllea was behaving quite properly, I thought,” Micah said stiffly. “She seems like a very pleasant young lady. She showed more decorum than you did, at any rate.”
    Roelynn tossed her head. I looked at Micah in some surprise. “Really? The girls were flirting with you? The young women from Lowford and Movington, I suppose?”
    â€œOf course they were,” Roelynn said, answering for him again. “Micah’s quite a catch, you know. I’ll inherit some of Father’s money, but Micah will inherit the business. He’ll be a very rich man, and you’d better believe all the girls know it. He might be quiet and a little dull, but that doesn’t matter much in a husband if he’s got a lot of money.”
    â€œI don’t want to marry a girl who wants to marry me for my money,” Micah said.
    Melinda looked over at him with a little smile. The firelight made her look like some old-fashioned full-length portrait of a noblewoman from a bygone age, all styled white hair and poised elegance. “And what do you want?” Melinda asked him. “What are the dreams of Micah Karro?”
    Micah looked uncomfortable to be asked that question in front of his sister and her friends. “I want what anyone wants,” he said in a low voice. “I just want a good life.”
    â€œI think you’ll have to be more specific than