Lia smiled wearily and fetched the bowl, seeing a generous dollop of treacle to sweeten it. It was delicious and warm and melted on her tongue. “Thank you, Pasqua.”
“It was by and by that you lived here,” Pasqua said, patting a loaf and shaping it. Flour dusted her hands. “A year that has gone by so quickly. Do you miss it, Lia? Miss being in the kitchen?”
Lia did not have to lie and nodded with enthusiasm. “There is a smell to this kitchen, especially this time of year. A hundred little smells – of cinnamon, of cardamom, of garlic and onions and sage and pumpkins. This is my home, Pasqua. I will always cherish it.”
That earned her a smile as well as a fierce hug that nearly took her breath away. Then she looked at Lia closely, her eyes filled with concern. “So he did not want you?” Pasqua asked softly so the other girls wouldn’t hear it.
Lia raised her eyebrows and tilted her head curiously.
“You know who I mean,” Pasqua said, stroking her arm and giving her a look full of tenderness with a wince of regret. “It is not that cheeky little Duerden I am speaking of. He is a cute boy, but Colvin is a man. I would have sworn on the stars of Idumea that he cared for you.”
Lia wanted to wince, but she kept her expression calm. “As a sister. Nothing more. Edmon was wrong.”
Pasqua rolled her eyes. “How freely he talks, it is no wonder then. The lad has only half his brains with him at best when he is around Sowe. She is a pretty girl. He would be a fool to pass her by.”
Lia wondered who was being the bigger fool, but she said nothing and finished the porridge before joining Sowe and Brynn in the loft.
“Has anyone toppled the old man off the pole yet?” asked Lia mischievously.
Brynn answered first. “No, but they have tried. This is my first year to dance. They better not knock him down.”
Sowe touched the glass gently. “There are more people out this year than normal. They must be very excited. You look tired.”
“I feel it,” Lia replied, drawing near, hovering above both of the sitting girls, and stared out the panes into the village. Sowe’s hair was freshly combed and she smelled of purple mint. Over the year, she had blossomed even more. Lia could see it now, see how her shyness and soft-spoken demeanor gave her an alluring quality. The other wretcheds of the Abbey adored her, except the laundry girls.
Amidst the crowds swarming the village green, there appeared horses with poles fixed with standards bearing the Queen Dowager’s emblem. Lia stiffened at the sight for they were pushing through the crowd towards the main gates of the Abbey.
“Look at all the horses,” Brynn murmured in awe, but Lia was already moving. Her sleeplessness was gone as her heart began pounding in fear. Snatching her bow sleeve and quiver, she hurried out the kitchen and sprinted towards the gate.
*
Pareigis sat astride her foam-white stallion. She wore the familiar black velvet gown as well as a black headdress and gauzy veil that shielded her face from the warm midsummer sun. The late season storm had turned the entire landscape green, and the starkness of the contrast between the Queen Dowager and her mount was striking. She was surrounded by knights, also astride, their hands resting menacingly on sword hilts or the domes of studded maces. Lia approached the gates just behind the Aldermaston, in his wake but close to him to keep an eye. Positioned at the gates ahead of them were much of the Abbey helpers and teachers, as well as Colvin, Edmon, and the Earl of Dieyre. Lia was the only girl in the company.
When they advanced within earshot, the Queen Dowager stiffened in her saddle. “Your gatekeeper forbids me entrance, Aldermaston! I, who was your honored guest but a few days ago. I told you my coming was to be expected, yet I am forbidden to enter!” Her voice rang with fury.
The Aldermaston stopped near the gate, his face masking the pain she had noticed earlier. Anger brooded in his eyes. “You may celebrate Whitsunday in any quarter of the realm you desire, Queen Dowager. But you have violated the oath of hospitality and so are refused admittance to the grounds. There are many fine inns within the village to choose from.”
“Open the gates,” Pareigis ordered, and Lia felt a surge from the Medium at her words.
The Aldermaston stared at her curiously, his eyebrows arching. He kept his focus on her, but Lia searched the faces of the soldiers surrounding her. One of them stood out in the baleful sunlight, for his eyes glowed silver. It was Scarseth, wearing the Queen Dowager’s livery. His hand clutched the fabric near his heart, and she knew he was fondling the kystrel. Lia felt the Medium quicken within her.
“I forbid it,” the Aldermaston replied.
The white stallion pranced and twirled and the Queen Dowager adjusted her view of them from her haughty pose. “Open the gates, Aldermaston. I have just returned from the killing fields of Winterrowd. Do you wish me to accuse you so publicly?”