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.
“Including you?”
Barely enough light to see his face, but enough to know it was a serious question.
“Sometimes I have an idea for a piece of furniture,” Burle said, “and I build it just the way I see it in my mind, exactly the way it suits me to build it out of particular materials. I take pride in the work. Some people will like it and some won’t, but it’s all mine. And then there are other times when I’m hired to help someone build a piece of furniture the way they want it built. Their vision, their design. I’ll make suggestions if I foresee a problem in the design or materials, but I’m not the designer, Kitten. I’m the skilled laborer who’s helping someone else create something that matters to them. And even if I think it could have been done differently—or better—I respect what they’re trying to do and give them the best work I can.
“You’ve been here a few weeks. Prince Theran’s been here his whole life, watching what bad Queens did to his land and his people. I’ve been working with Gray this afternoon, and he’s told me a fair amount about his cousin. Enough for me to figure out that Theran wants to do right by his people and do right by Dena Nehele. The name Grayhaven means something here, and it’s a weight as well as a privilege to carry the name.”
“So I should help him build a new foundation the way he thinks it should be built?” Which reminded her of one of Burle’s sayings: Don’t go knocking down a wall because you think the room will look better when all you were asked to do was paint.
“A year from now, you can walk away from these people and their problems. He can’t. Won’t. Is he pigheaded?” Burle shrugged. “Probably couldn’t have survived if he wasn’t.”