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“What did I tell you?” he asks when I pause in the large entry, taking in the vast array of animal mounts. “It’s very much like a hunting lodge, isn’t it?”

There are weasels, rabbits, bears, boars, and even a stuffed gray squirrel. But the largest of them all is a tawny red stag with exceptionally large antlers directly across from the entry, in a place of prominence over the walkway that appears to lead into a great room.

Our elf is going to pass out.

Eyeing the deer with dread, I ask Simon, “Pranmore hasn’t been in here yet, has he—”

A horrified gasp sounds behind me, letting me know the elf must be right on my heels.

“Never mind,” I finish.

“I will stay outside,” Pranmore says to Bartholomew dramatically, turning to hide his eyes from the disturbing display.

“Pranmore…” I begin as he throws open the doors, but what am I going to say?

Bartholomew gives me a helpless look, but I only shrug. As the young man hurries out the door after the elf, I look back into the room.

I’m not usually squeamish, but even I am unnerved by the dead animals. They seem to be…staring at me.

Besides the fact it’s a bit disturbing, for practical reasons, it seems a poor décor choice due to the upkeep. Who dusts all that fur?

“Does the guard post have a tanner in residence?” I ask incredulously. “How did all these get here?”

“Lord Garamond is an avid huntsman, but his wife won’t let him keep the mounts in their estate. He brings new ones every time he’s stationed up here.”

“Remind me to keep Pranmore away from Lord Garamond.”

Simon laughs and leads me into the great hall. There are dozens of round wooden tables, and two great fireplaces keep the vast space warm. Few people are in the room, but serving maids bustle about the area, setting tables with pewter plates and earthen tankards, making me believe the evening meal will be out soon.

“Evening, Simon,” a pretty, plump brunette says as she pauses in front of us. She brushes her long bangs from her heart-shaped face, and then she smiles. “When they started hauling supplies into the kitchens, I wondered if you were with the group.”

“I always am,” Simon says with a grin, and then he turns to me. “Lady Clover, may I introduce you to Savrina. Savrina, this is Lady Clover, Count Rolf Flauret’s daughter.”

She bobs in a curtsy, her eyes bright with curiosity. “What brings you to Fortress Lintanry?”

“Lady Clover is a masterful archer,” Simon says. “She joined the supply run after we had a nasty run-in with Calendrian vultures.” He then turns back to me. “I’ve never thought to ask. What business did you have in Riverwren?”

Trying to keep the bite out of my tone since I don’t know these people well, I say, “Her Royal Highness sent me upon an errand.”

Savrina’s eyebrows go up with surprise.

“I am one of Princess Camellia’s ladies-in-waiting,” I explain.

Savrina’s eyes do a quick tour of the room, and she seems befuddled. I’m not sure what to tell her—I don’t know why I’m here either.

“It was a cold ride,” Simon says, thankfully changing the subject. “I’m sure Lady Clover would enjoy some tea if you can spare a moment to fetch her some.”

“Of course,” the girl says warmly. “Find a seat, and I’ll bring it to you.”

I thank her, and then I follow Simon to a table near one of the hearths. The pine logs crackle merrily, sending an occasional shower of sparks harmlessly toward the grate.

A few moments later, Savrina returns with a tray containing a small silver teapot, a dainty porcelain cup that seems out of place in this large, masculine fort, a tiny pitcher of cream, and a plate of pressed sugar cubes.

“The cook already had water boiling, but I’ve just added the tea,” she says. “Best let it steep for a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Savrina.”

She hands Simon a full tankard of something that smells potent, and with one last curious look, she hurries away to finish her pre-dinner chores.