The Wretched of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #1)

Shocked, Lia swallowed and nodded. Then she saw it, she saw through the fa?ade and into his soul. It had happened to her before on a stormy night when she was nine. That night she had read the Aldermaston’s soul. Today, she saw a stiff lip, a scowl, a rigid demeanor. And she recognized it for what it truly was. Colvin was afraid. He feared what would happen to him at Winterrowd as much as his honor compelled him on that road. They were tangled feelings. Since he had left on his journey, he had been worrying about his death and its effect on his sister, his uncle, and those who loved him. Now he was beholden to yet another creature – a lowly wretched. The thought of disappointing them all was almost too much for him to bear.

The insight came in a moment, a blink. At that moment, she knew him better than anyone else did. He was afraid of dying at Winterrowd, his blood-spattered body twisted and bent, crumpled with others older and more war-wise than himself. Of his sister and how she would worry and grieve, for he had not told her what he was going to do. Yet despite the guilty fear of what would happen if they failed to depose the ruthless king, he forced every footstep on the path leading to the fate that terrified him. In that moment of clarity, in that breach into his soul, she learned a little of the true meaning of courage.

In that moment, as she blinked back fresh tears, she knew that who she danced with at the Whitsun Fair would be the least of her worries. She would worry about him, Colvin, since even his own sister could not.

“Your horse is penned up at Jon Hunter’s lodge,” she said thickly, struggling to speak through a clenched throat. “We will take you there.”

She did not know any other way to say goodbye at such a moment.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN:


Thievery





Sowe waited for her in the mist, shivering. Sometimes it took hours before the sun chased the morning fog away. As they began their long walk back to the kitchen, in the distance, they heard the thudding of hooves.

“Was Jon away?” Sowe asked nervously.

“He is always gone before the sun rises. I swear the man never sleeps in that filthy hovel. He is more likely than not bedding down in a bush each night. At least he cared for the horse. It looked rested and brushed and there were oats for it still.”

“So are we going to tell the Aldermaston now?”

“Before we put the orb back in his chamber? You are daft, Sowe, truly. I am glad we did not need it.”

“So when will we tell him? Tonight?”

“Quit worrying, Sowe. Now that he is gone, you should feel more easy. Why worry the Aldermaston about it at all?”

“I should not, but I do worry. I am nervous about what will happen. We should tell him, Lia.”

“And make him angry? He does not know – he did not find out. We did it, Sowe. Why not be happy about that?”

“Happy? I have been sick to my stomach for days. If I had a bucket, I could retch in it right now.”

“Retch in the flowerbeds instead, thank you kindly. Just do not retch on me. I cannot help it if you are always nervous about everything.”

Sowe was silent after that and they both walked, their shoes sodden from the dewy grass and they approached the kitchen from the rear. They could hear the pots clanging like bells, and Lia could tell Pasqua was furious. She had a way of making the whole kitchen mime her moods.

Lia pulled open the door and gusts of warm, yeasty air engulfed them. Pasqua was laboring over a huge bowl, and she turned with iron in her eyes.

“Here they arrive at last, all damp and tired. I ought to take a switch to both of your skinny legs as I promised last night. Leaving the kitchen together! Letting some pack of hungry-eyed learners sneak in here and steal from the Aldermaston’s stores. I have a mind to make you churn butter all day long so that your arms are sore for a week. Cheeky little waifs. Off you were, flitting about in the morning when you were supposed to be at your chores, and now someone has come in and made off with things they would be ashamed to confess.”

Lia rolled her eyes and shut the door. Sowe took their cloaks and hung them from two pegs to dry out. Lia hid the Cruciger orb behind a barrel beneath the loft.

“Were we gone that long?” Lia said with a yawn. “It did not feel like it. Did it feel like it to you, Sowe? On a misty morning like this, it is hard to tell how late it is.”

Pasqua jammed a wooden spoon into the huge bowl and gave it furiously circular strokes. “Have you been gone long? Gone long? Why if that is not a sooty lie…look over there at the Aldermaston’s breakfast, which I made myself, and now it is nearly cold to the touch. Look at your hems, deep in mud. You will be at the laundry scrubbing them clean, for I will not have you tracking in filth. I am sorely vexed with both of you, especially about the gingerbread we made yesterday that is gone. Whitsunday will soon be here, and I have a mind to insist that the Aldermaston forbid to let you dance around the maypole.”

Lia stopped. “What about the gingerbread?” she asked, confused, for they had not snitched even a crumb of it.