EIGHT
An unholy clatter jerked Bernard from his dreams. "What in heaven's name is that?" he slurred.
"Dinner. Don't go turning your courtly nose up at it, for it's all there is. Your father's men raided the kitchen and killed all the kitchen staff. It's empty but for the bloodstains on the floor. I suppose we should be grateful his men stayed long enough to bury the bodies instead of leaving them there to rot, or we wouldn't even have this."
Bernard struggled to sit up, still drowsy from that potion he'd taken. "How long have I been asleep?"
Gosse shrugged. "Don't know. Most of the day, maybe. It'll be dark soon, so you can sleep some more once you've eaten. I'll stoke the fire, and then I might retire myself. I've never slept in a baron's bed before. I bet I'll have the best night's
