In the castle itself. That must have been it. He had seen her with his father, some silent blonde thing draped in shadows. And he had gotten the feeling, upon entering the room that day, that he'd interrupted them. Not in anything inappropriate, but he'd walked directly into the hush of a quickly halted conversation. So she was close to his father, then, which made her even more interesting than her remarkable appearance could suggest.
And it suggested quite a bit, even to a mind so weary as his.
He took a step back and took the scroll in one hand. His arms crossed and he leaned into a pillar. They were beside the castle, within a roofed pathway. The colums themselves were ribbed, dark grey, and threw themselves up into the air to greet pitched arches. It was almost uncomfortably cool here, in the shade.
"If King Ithunvel trusts you then you must be a very dedicated soldier."
He shifted against the column with a slight grimace. He had a wound on his left side, just below the ribs, where he'd been hit with a knife. Scuffles were not uncommon in the lean-to villages, and even if he was a Prince, he was still the quickest to respond. He'd refused proper healing and had it sewn shut quickly by a friar. True priests and healing men had much graver things to worry about.
"I'm sure you're capable of much more than delivering messages. How good are you with your bow?"