The Wretched of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #1)

Lia nodded. “Mine is Lia. I have not forgotten you, Bryn. Or what your family did for me.”


“Well, neither did the earl of Forshee,” she said smugly. “He rewarded us amply. Come over. I will brush your hair. It is a nest of snags. I can help you wash.”

Lia stopped by the window and looked out. Dawn touched the sky with pink and she could barely see the outline of the abbey against a sea of purple sky. Her heart thrilled. Bryn dragged a stool by the brazier, and Lia went to enjoy the warmth. There was a mirror nearby and what she saw in it revolted her. Turning away, she ate the warm bread while Bryn brushed the many tangles out of her hair, then gathered the mass into a thick bunch and brushed it even more vigorously. Lia’s garment was fit to be burned, and she was grateful that Bryn had brought one of her own dresses to wear. It was a little short and snug, but it fit her. She tied the pouch with the Cruciger orb to the girdle. Bryn lifted the hair and scrubbed her neck and ears with a towel and water from the basin near the brazier. Lia washed her face and hands. The water was warm and reminded her of the Leering stone in the Bearden Muir, when Colvin had helped her bathe. She paused at the memory, her heart fluttering. She was anxious to see him. And nervous. He had let her have the soft bed and had forsaken sleep. The thought made her glow inside.

When they were through, Lia returned to the mirror. She looked at herself closely. Her skin was darker than she thought it would be from her days in the sun. There were little cuts and scrapes all over her face and arms, especially a dark scab on the end of her chin from her fall on the hillside at Winterrowd. In the reflection, she saw the twine string around her neck and delicately withdrew the wedding band she had worn so long. She tucked it back in quickly when Bryn approached.

“What should I do with these?” she asked, carrying over the leather girdle, the gladius, the bracers, and the unstrung bow and quiver. Jon Hunter’s face flickered in her eyes at seeing the implements, and it made her heart throb with agony. Yes, she had returned safely to Muirwood, but he was dead in the Bearden Muir. For a moment, she could not speak, her voice too thick with emotion, too fragile to risk with words. She nearly wept, but forced herself not to.

“They must be returned to the abbey,” Lia said softly at last. “I will take them with me. Thank you.”

Darkness veiled the world, and Lia was anxious and wary about seeing the abbey again in the daylight. Yet there was sadness in her heart at the thought of leaving Colvin and Edmon, two soon-to-be earls who treated her as an equal. Clutching the implements she had rescued from Jon’s grave, she followed Bryn out of the room, glancing back at the bed one last time.

The soldiers guarding her room wore Demont’s colors, and they nodded to her respectfully as she passed them. Down the stairs they went, and images of Colvin’s fight sent pangs into her heart. She remembered Scarseth quivering on the floor as Colvin took his birthright back, the knight-maston sword that had belonged to his father.

“The earl of Norris-York is handsome,” Bryn said. “He smiled at me when I gave him his breakfast. He is very handsome, is he not?”

“He is,” Lia said, but in her mind he was too pretty. Too amiable. In her estimation, Colvin was the more striking of the two.

Bryn opened the door into the kitchen, and both Colvin and Edmon stood as she entered. Prestwich the steward was there as well, enjoying a heel of bread dripping with honey. Gingerly, he rose to greet her and finished the bite. He was bald, except for some feathery hair along the crown. He was a short fellow, very deliberate, and used ponderous words.

“Welcome home to Muirwood, Lia,” he said warmly. It was genuine. He motioned for Bryn to shut the door, and she did. The family gathered near. She recognized each of them and her heart bubbled at seeing familiar faces again.

Prestwich gazed down at the floor, clasped his hands behind his back, then fixed the two knights with a sharp look. “The Aldermaston’s instructions are clear in this matter. Lord Colvin and Lord Edmon, he will meet you both this morning after the gates open. You may bring your retinue and enjoy the hospitality of the abbey. But the hospitality for you and your men will not extend beyond nightfall. This was only a leg of your journey. To dwell longer will raise suspicions as to why you truly came.”