The Wretched of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #1)

Lia gave him a satisfied smile, but kept her arms folded imperiously. “It took you long enough to tell me. So. You are joining the rebellion?”


“I am.”

“Where is Winterrowd?”

“I do not know. It is a coastal town, west of here. Somewhere in this Hundred. Demont landed in the country of Pry-Ree a fortnight ago. Do you know of it?”

She shook her head.

“It borders our realm to the north, separated by a little water, but there are ports on the south side not far from this Hundred. Not far to cross if you have enough boats. Much faster than traveling by land. When I learned about the summons, he had already set sail. His agent, a knight-maston, was to meet me at the outskirts of Muirwood Abbey and lead me there.”

“The knight-maston that brought you here?” Lia asked.

“I do not know. I never met the man.”

“He seemed to know you.”

“I would not doubt it. Perhaps he was told. Perhaps I misjudged him. When I came, I went to the village first, but did not feel safe there, even with a storm blowing. Too many questions. Too many suspicions. So rather than sleeping at one of the inns, I rode south, and then circled back towards the abbey another way. Someone followed me from the village. I thought I escaped him into the woods during the storm, but I remember hearing a noise, turning around, and something struck my head. I thought I had been captured. When I awoke, I was in the kitchen, sick to my stomach.”

“Yes, I had almost forgotten that part,” she replied, wincing at the memory. “A knight-maston brought you to the kitchen. You may have been running from him without knowing he was there to guide you.”

“Indeed. And yet I worry. I have been thinking on it and it makes sense. That when the sheriff arrived in the village, whoever it was who saved me was captured himself.”

“He seemed a clever enough man to me. Why would you fear his capture?”

He walked back through the stone doorway and stood facing the sky. “Because they were searching for me at the Abbey yesterday.” He turned and looked at her. “How else would they have known I was here? How would they have known to search the kitchen?”

Lia swallowed. That made sense. Hope wilted. “Then the knight-maston…is not coming back for you tonight. Is he?”

Colvin – that was his name – looked troubled. “I fear he will not, and I do not know the way to Winterrowd.”

“If the sheriff’s men are still looking for you, the road will be watched.”

“If I stay at Muirwood under the Aldermaston’s protection, then I have risked everything in vain. That is why I do not claim the protection of sanctuary. The Abbey may protect my life, but it can easily become a prison with the Aldermaston my keeper. There is too much to risk trusting him with my identity. I have come this far. I must go on. Demont needs to know that the king’s men are on the hunt and know about Winterrowd.”

Lia swallowed, feeling worse. “The sheriff said last night that the king was coming. The king himself.”

“Then it is even more urgent that I leave,” he said darkly. “My horse – where is he? You can help me get it? I could leave tonight.”

Lia bit her lip, thinking quickly. Then she remembered something – the orb in the Aldermaston’s study. The one she had seen him holding in the night that shone like a lamp. “I can lead you to your horse. Maybe I can also help you find the way to Winterrowd.”

“But you said you did not…”

“I do not know where it is. But the day is not done yet. I may be able to discover it.”

He leaned forward. “Can you? How?”

“If I can, I will find the way. Here, some food for your supper.” She handed him the linen, remembering she had been holding it the whole time. “And where did you get those apples? It is not even the season for Muirwood apples.”

He looked over his shoulder. “They were already there. Same with the grain.”

“Out of season?”

He shrugged. “Season or not, the apples are good.”

Lia went to the basket and knelt. The fruit was round and firm, the skin pinkish, red, and yellow. Just like the Cider Orchard. Muirwood apples were famous throughout the kingdom.

“I doubt you know this, but there is a secret to finding the best ones,” she said. “Look at the skin. If it looks a bit rough, a little worn, with little splotches – those have the sweetest flavor. The ones that are perfect on the outside tend to be a bit more bland. That is true about many things in life. I always hunt for the best one before I take the first bite.”

Gingerly, she lifted one out that had the telltale signs around the stem, and brought it up to her nose and smelled it. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent. Most apples just smelled like wood. But a ripe Muirwood apple had a subtle scent. She cherished the time when the harvest was done, when bushels were stored up in the loft and she could sleep amidst the tender smell.

“Whatever are you doing?” he asked her, his voice a bit amused.