Molly and Nettle shot me twin looks of outrage. “Bee does not dislike Nettle!” Molly insisted. “She just …” Her words dwindled away and her eyes widened slightly. Then, as direct as Nettle herself, she looked at her elder daughter and asked, “Did you do something to her? With your mind?”
“I … no! Well, not intentionally. Sometimes …” She let her words trail off. “It’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t have it. I touch people when I’m close to them. Not always on purpose. It’s like …” She groped for a comparison. “Like smelling someone. Even if it might seem rude, I can’t really help it. I’ve become aware of people in that way.”
Molly weighed her words as she began the slow shifting of her weight from foot to foot that she always affected when she held the child. “Then your sister is Skilled? As you are?”
Nettle laughed and shook her head. “I couldn’t tell something like that just from holding her. Besides, she’s a baby.” Her words trailed off slightly as she reflected on her own talent for Skill and how early it had wakened in her. She glanced over at me, and I felt her send a seeking tendril of Skill toward the baby. I caught my breath. Should I stop her? I watched as Bee curled more tightly against her mother and buried her face in Molly’s neck. Did she sense her sister reaching for her? I watched Nettle’s face. Puzzlement and then resignation. She didn’t sense any Skill in the baby.
My curiosity piqued, I sent a thread of Skill toward Bee, moving with utmost caution, but all I found was Molly. She had no Skill at all, but reaching toward her filled my senses with her. I found myself smiling fondly at her.
Then Nettle cleared her throat and I became aware of the room and my daughters and wife again. Molly drew a deeper breath and squared her shoulders. “Well. I will go to meet Kettricken and welcome her. Do you think I should bring Bee with me?”
Nettle shook her head hastily. “No. No, I think it is best that you choose the moment for the Mountain Queen to meet her, and that it be private at first. Can her wet nurse stay with her while we—” And then her voice ran down. She laughed. “I’ve been too long at court, haven’t I? A whole day here and of course I’ve seen no one tend her except you. Does she have a wet nurse? Or a nurse or a caretaker of any kind?”
Molly made an amused sound in her throat and shook her head. “No more than you had,” she replied.
“Could you ask one of the kitchen girls? Or one of the maids?” Nettle was well aware that her mother kept no personal servant. “I’d never have enough tasks to keep her busy,” she had always told her daughter.
Molly shook her head. “They are busy with their proper tasks. No. She will be fine here in her nursery. She’s a placid child.” She returned Bee to her cradle and covered her warmly.
“It feels odd to leave her here alone,” Nettle objected uncomfortably as Molly drew a lacy covering over the cradle.
“Not really,” Molly replied calmly. She moved about the room, letting down layer after layer of curtains. It became twilight, the warm firelight the only illumination. And as she turned to look at her elder daughter, she sighed and said, “You have been too long at court. You should find a way to have time to yourself. Come here, or go visit one of your brothers. Get away from the suspicions and that careful dance you always seem to be treading. Look. She’s already dozing off. She’ll be fine here.”
“I’m certain she’ll be fine here alone, Nettle,” I lied agreeably. I ventured closer and looked down into the cradle. Bee’s eyes were almost completely closed.
“Come,” Molly said, taking my hand. “We’d best go meet the Queen.” I let her lead me from the room.
Steward Revel did a far better job of being the lord of the manor than I could ever attempt. We did not go to the entrance hall, where I was sure he was sorting our guests into levels of importance. The guards and lesser servants would be bustled off to simple but clean rooms and offered an immediate opportunity either to visit the Withywoods steams or to warm their faces and hands with hot water before descending to a casual and hearty meal of soups, bread, butter, cheese, ale, and wine. Revel had nothing but sympathy for frequently hard-used servants. While they visited Withywoods, they would be treated as the guests of our own servants. I was sure they would welcome his hospitality after the morning’s chilly ride through the freshly fallen snow.