The Wretched of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #1)

Pasqua’s eyes were nearly bulging and she thumped the spoon as she thundered, “Have you not been listening to what I told you? Someone has been in the kitchen while you were gone, stealing up scraps and taking this and that. It is shameful, it really is. Here, at Muirwood, that someone can feel justified in stealing what others labored to make. I am only glad there is none of any Gooseberry Fool done, or it would be missing too.”


Lia tied on her apron, her mind dancing with thoughts, her stomach starting to wrestle with queasiness. She looked around the kitchen, and it did have a different feel. There were the stools, the brooms, the pans, the sieves, the sacks, the smells – but an underlying sense of wrongness as well. Fluttering memories darted here and there, and she snatched at them. Stolen things. Missing victuals. When the knight-maston brought Colvin that first evening, he had freely taken victuals for the road. Without asking, he had sliced off a piece of meat. He had swiped a tub of treacle. In fact, as she thought back on it, his actions had been deliberately subtle. He made excuses when she noticed, but it was as if he was trying to steal them without her knowing it. Why would a knight-maston steal?

She cinched the knot of the apron behind her, her thoughts spinning so fast that they blurred Pasqua’s words into gibberish.

Why would a knight-maston steal? Would not a knight-maston, a true one, ask for victuals? Be grateful for what he was given instead of sneaking it? But the knight had not entered the kitchen – Lia had not let him in. Was someone else to blame? A learner, perhaps? Getman stealing the gingerbread to get her into trouble?

Other thoughts. Other possibilities. Maybe the knight had entered after she and Sowe had left. Without someone to stay behind, there was no way to secure the crossbar over the door.

“Why are you standing there paler than milk? Get to work, girls! There are messes plenty to tidy. Sowe – take the Aldermaston his meal. Lia – fetch the broom and sweep up that spill over there. Now, girls, before I fetch a hazel switch in earnest!”

Lia walked, dreamlike, to the broom, trying to put the pieces together in her head. She clutched it and walked over to the corner and began sweeping. Had the knight-maston entered the kitchen after they left to get Colvin and stolen the food? Was that all he had stolen? A sick feeling washed over her. She swept and stepped over to the corner beneath the loft where the loose stone was where she hid her treasures. When Pasqua’s back was turned, she pried at the edge with her fingers until it budged. Lifting it, she stared into the hole.

Gone. Every coin she had ever saved. The bag of treasure the knight had brought her. And even worse, the sheriff’s medallion. They were gone. She reached into the hole, confirming the emptiness with her own fingers.

The thought sent a spear of disbelief through her. Pain and shock linked arms. It was the worst feeling of her life. Worse than fear or sorrow or the dread of impending punishment. It hurt with a frenzy when she realized what she had done. She had sent Colvin to the Pilgrim into a trap.