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“What’s the matter, Léof?”
Léof looked up, startled. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard Thornden approach. “What? Oh. Nothing. It’s fine,” he said, realizing he was still sitting on the floor and clambering to his feet.
Thornden just looked at him. Well, of course Thornden didn’t believe him, after the way he’d stormed out of the hall. Just thinking about it made Léof start feeling hot all over again. No. He must be the master of himself.
“I… I told the soldiers that I’d thought that Athanar might leave, once Eodwine came back,” Léof admitted. He suddenly felt foolish for having said it – he could have kept on avoiding the question. Or made something up. Anything. “I didn’t want to, but they just kept asking! Quin kept asking what I’d expected, and I didn’t know what to say anymore, so I told them the truth. I wasn’t trying to offend them, but they took it all the wrong way!” Léof took a deep breath. He didn’t want Thornden to think he was just throwing a temper-tantrum because he wasn’t getting what he wanted. But the soldiers had made him so angry. He had to tell someone, just to get it all off his chest. “They don’t listen to me, Thornden,” he said. “They treat me like… like I’m some kind of charity case that Eodwine kept on as a whim. They seem to think I ought to be grateful to Athanar for keeping me – and I am! But I’ve earned my place here, just as much as they have.”
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