by M. J. Haag
“What about Judith? How could Hugh recover from his grief so quickly as to love another?”
“Sex doesn’t mean love,” Kellen said. “And you shouldn’t judge his actions. We all heal differently. Maybe what he’s doing is to help him forget Judith.”
I sat on my bed and stared into the dark, feeling Kellen’s words hitting a tender spot in me. Is that what I’d been doing? Was I focusing on finding a murderer so I could avoid the pain quietly eating away at my insides? So I could forget Mother?
Chapter Seventeen
I couldn’t look at Hugh. Since I didn’t know which of the maids had been with him last night, it was a little easier to speak to them. But only just. Thankfully, Maeve wasn’t at the breakfast table to notice any oddity in my behavior. However, Kellen’s awareness of the situation more than made up for Maeve’s absence. Every time Kellen caught me studying any of the three, my shin suffered the toe on her slipper.
“Heather and I were wondering if there’s a household schedule. What days are washing days? What days are supply days? And so forth.”
“We go to town when we need supplies. The distance isn’t far,” I said.
“The linens are washed once every two weeks. When they’re washed is entirely up to you,” Kellen said. “The prior maid washed them only a few days ago.”
“General tidying and meals are the only daily tasks,” I said.
“We thought you might say that,” Catherine said, sharing a glance with Heather.
“What is it?” I asked.
Heather got up and went to a cooling rack behind the block where a linen covered plate waited.
“Anyone can make a simple meal and clean a room. We knew in order to stay we would need to do something more,” Catherine said. My stomach churned; and I quickly glanced at Kellen, which earned me another kick.
“We made these last night after you both retired for the evening,” Heather said, carrying the plate to the table. “Would you try them and tell us what you think?”
With relief, I looked at the small multi-colored pastries daintily arranged on the plate that Heather set on the table. They were much like the lemon curd pastries that we’d shown them how to make, but with an additional dark red jam.
Taking one from the plate, I took a tentative bite. The familiar sweetness of the briarberry jam played off the tartness of the lemon curd.
“These are delicious,” I said, watching Kellen take her first bite.
Hugh continued to work his way through his hot oats, purposefully ignoring us. I wondered if he’d already sampled a tart.
“Well done,” Kellen said after a swallow.
“We’re glad you like them,” Catherine said. “We wanted to make something that might impress Lady Grimmoire. There’s only these twelve, but if Heather or I could go to the market for more briarberries, we could make them for the guests.”
Kellen and I looked at Hugh.
“You’ll need to check with Maeve,” he said without looking up.
I smiled at Catherine as Heather returned the plate.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine with it.” I finished my pastry and continued with the oats. Even the oats they’d made were good. I only wished Maeve had joined us so she could know that for herself.
As if my thoughts summoned her, she walked through the dining room door.
“Hugh,” she said, stopping short at the sight of him. “Why are you eating in here?”
An uncomfortable silence fell as he flushed and glanced down at his bowl.
“Never mind that,” she said. “I want you to go to town. The herbs I requested should be there.”
He nodded and stood to leave while Maeve glanced at Kellen and me.
“Good morning, my dears.”
“Good morning,” we answered.
“Your timing is perfect, Maeve,” I said, reaching for a pastry. “I want you to try this.”
She took the small treat hesitantly.
“Why?”
“To see if it’s fit to serve our guests. Kellen and I both tried it and found it enjoyable.”
Maeve took a bite and looked at Catherine and Heather.
“You made this?”
They nodded.
“You’ve impressed me.”
I grinned at Heather and Catherine.
“Since Hugh is going to town, perhaps one of them could accompany him and search the market for more briarberries.”
Maeve’s gaze met mine, and I was sure we were thinking the same thing. Why send one of them to town to pay coin for something we could pick from our own land?
Her expression softened.
“I think that’s a lovely idea. Why don’t you and Catherine go? She might need your help negotiating on behalf of this house.”
I knew what she was really saying. Make sure Catherine didn’t do anything to embarrass us and reveal her former occupation.
“Remember to stay together, though,” Maeve added.
I glanced at Catherine, who nodded enthusiastically.
“You had better go catch Hugh before he leaves,” Maeve said before leaving the room again.
As Catherine and I hurried to get our cloaks, I promised to find Kellen another book if there was time.
During the ride to town, I watched Catherine and Hugh closely. Since there were only the three of us, we all sat on the bench. Catherine had insisted I take the middle because it was more secure. However, I questioned the validity of that reason.
“I’m a bit nervous,” Catherine said softly.
“Why?”
“What if someone recognizes me at the market? I don’t want to bring shame to anyone.”
“You won’t. And you look completely different in that dress and with your hair pulled back.”
“Tell me if anyone recognizes you,” Hugh said. “I’ll take care of it.”
Catherine blushed and nodded.
The evidence of who’d been with Hugh was right there, and I struggled with how I felt about it. In the end, I decided I was glad. Kellen held everything in and was slowly dying inside because of it. I didn’t want that for Hugh. If being with Catherine gave him a moment’s reprieve from the pain of losing Judith, then who was I to judge him harshly. As Kellen pointed out, everyone grieved and healed differently. And perhaps their dalliance would turn into something more.
Catherine’s worry over being recognized proved unnecessary once we entered Towdown. No one gave us more than a curious look. And, as we walked the market, the vendors were too busy trying to sell their goods to care who handed over the coin. Likewise, those looking to purchase goods were too occupied negotiating a lower price to notice.
A stall selling hair ribbons caught my eye. Kellen and I had ribbons aplenty to match our dresses. However, both Catherine and Heather had used bits of twine to tie back their hair.
“I think I see briarberries ahead,” Catherine said.
I looked at the stall in question and cringed at the crowd around it.
“I think I’m going to wait here by the ribbons.”
“Are you sure? Hugh said we should stay together.”
Hugh had left us the moment he parked the wagon to fetch the herbs from the herbalist that Maeve had previously visited.
“Hugh meant in sight of each other, not side by side. We will be fine. This is the market, after all.”
“I’ll try to hurry.” She rushed off to the group, a determined expression on her face. I knew that her urgency would not have any influence on the speed of the sale and turned to study the ribbons.
I found two pale blue ribbons that would match the color of Heather and Catherine’s dresses and gave a coin to the merchant for them.
Turning, I almost collided with a familiar figure.
“You,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting it to be you.”
“Hello again, Rose,” I said, looking at the old woman. “Who were you expecting?”
She smiled, showing a row of straight white teeth that contrasted with her weathered skin, and
reached out to pat my hand. A tingle zipped along my flesh.
“Someone a bit older. What do you have there?” she asked, looking at my closed hands.
I turned my palm up.
“Ribbons for our maids. They didn’t have any, and I thought they might like them.”
“Aren’t you a sweet child? Thinking of others. Kindness is virtuous, but it can bring trouble, too.” She looked around the market. “Are you with someone?”
“My maid is just there,” I said, gesturing toward the crush of people further down the way.
“Help me to that bench,” Rose said. “We will watch and wait for her.”
I looked at the occupied bench, ready to question her, when she hooked her hand through my arm, leaving me no other option but to help her. Not that she needed my assistance. Her steps were strong and sturdy.
When we reached the bench, she released me to glare at the two young men sitting on it.
“Remove yourselves and find something more useful to do with your time than chasing pretty skirts.”
“Be gone, old woman,” one man said irreverently.
The other looked at me and patted his lap.
“You can sit here, love.”
Rose leaned toward the pair.
“If you act beastly, I will treat you beastly. Go!”
She said the last so loudly that the men jumped and slid off their seats, hurrying away.
Rose chuckled as she sat.
“They are so full of themselves.” She looked at me. “A man can only hold what power we give them. If you never give them power, they will never have a hold over you.”
She patted the seat beside her. Not wanting to appear rude, I sat. My gaze flicked to Catherine before returning to Rose, who was studying me with an uncomfortable intensity.
“Are you thirsty?” I asked. “I could fetch you something to drink.”
The corner of her mouth lifted slightly as if I’d amused her.
“Would you see me killed by the King’s guard?” the old woman asked suddenly. “Forced into the Dark Forest?”
“What?” I asked in surprise. “Certainly not.”
She smiled again and grabbed my hand.
“Then tell me, Eloise Cartwright, why are you layered with magic?” She petted the back of my hand. “It coats your skin, clinging to you like water after a bath. What magic have you done or been near?”
I stared at her in shock. To speak so openly about magic begged for persecution of its use. Which explained her prior question. But how could she possibly know that I had been exposed to magic?
“I think magic killed my mother,” I said absently, my mind racing.
If Rose could sense magic, did that then mean she could also use it? Kaven’s words echoed in my mind. Before your mother died, did anyone new approach you? Were you given anything?
Rose’s arrival wasn’t before Mother’s death but soon after. And she’d given me the pig.
My eyes widened as I stared at her.
“You?”
“Me? You think I killed your mother?” Rose cackled and slapped her knee. “Why would I do so? Random wickedness? No, I’ve had more reason to take a life and have never done so. The pig is proof. Now, why do you think I would want to kill your mother, child?”
I sighed and checked on Catherine’s progress. She still wasn’t any further into the crowd.
“Timing? Circumstance? I’m no longer certain. Very little makes sense to me of late.”
Rose patted my hand.
“You will find that often in life. How is the pig? Did he find you anything useful?”
“Yes,” I said, barely suppressing my shudder. “Though, I believe he tires of country life and would prefer to be with you.”
She snorted.
“I doubt that very much.”
I considered her for a moment.
“How do you know what’s clinging to me?” I asked, too afraid to use the word magic.
“I think you already know the answer to that.” Her gaze idly swept the crowd. “Like calls to like.
“When I sensed it in the clearing, I thought it was you using it. I wanted to see who would use magic in a place that isn’t kind to those who do.”
“What would you have done if it had been me?”
She considered me for a moment. For all appearances, she looked like an old woman passing time by watching the people around her, not an old woman discussing magic in the open.
“Nothing. There’s no malevolence in you. However, there is malevolence here. I sense it from time to time, never long enough to find it, though. Except you. I’m curious who you would allow to use magic around you.”
“Allow?” I asked.
Rose shrugged.
“Like a man, a caster can only use what power we allow them.”
What she was saying didn’t fully make sense to me. However, two things were clear. Rose knew about magic, and I had more questions regarding magic than I could count. Could I trust her to answer them honestly, though?
“How much do you know about magic?” I asked.
“Enough to know the magic clinging to you is too fresh to be from your mother’s death. That magic still lingers at her grave.”
I nodded and thought of the tree.
“Is there danger in visiting her?”
Rose glanced at me, her gaze filled with compassion.
“No, child. Speak to your mother as often as you like. There is nothing there to hurt you. Magic is neither good nor bad. Only the intent of the person wielding it.”
“Can I ask you about something?”
“Haven’t you already begun to?”
Taking my cue from her, I looked out over the crowd, watching the people hurry about their lives, not noticing those who might be observing them.
“Can objects kill a person?” I asked.
When Rose didn’t answer, I glanced at her and found her studying me.
“What sort of object?”
“A necklace with a large stone.”
“Perhaps. Do you still have it?”
I shook my head.
“It went missing.”
Rose scowled at the ground for a moment.
“I met a woman from Towdown once. She told me of amulets made by a caster that protected the royal family against magic. Not long ago, I also heard of an amulet that killed.”
“You did? What did it look like?”
“I do not know. I only know who the necklace killed.”
“Who?”
“Prince Greydon’s newly acquired wife barely a week after they’d wed.”
“How long ago was that?”
“A few months.”
Stunned, I looked out over the crowd and tried to find the connection. Who would want to kill a princess and my mother?
“I will be watching you, Eloise Cartwright. You have my word on that.”
Rose stood with a quick pat to my knee and walked away. I stared after her, wondering if I should follow. It would do no good, though. My mind was still too overwhelmed with what I’d learned to form more questions.
“Who are you looking at?” Catherine asked, startling me.
“The old woman who shared the bench with me,” I said. “Were you successful?”
Catherine held up a small bundle.
“I got the briarberries. I had to pay more than I would have liked, but I still think it’s a fair deal. Is there anything else you wish to look at while we’re here?”
“I think I’ve had enough of the market for one day. Let’s go find Hugh,” I said, standing.
“Do you know which herbalist he went to?” she asked.
I thought back, trying to remember the name of the shop.
“I don’t think he ever said. I’m sure waiting for the briarberries took longer than the herbs, though. He’s probably already by the wagon.”
We’d only covered half the distance to the wagon when I heard my name called. I looked over my shoulder and saw Hugh. He looked
annoyed.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the wagon,” Catherine said. “We found the briarberries Heather and I needed. Did you find what Lady Grimmoire required?”
“Did you speak to anyone?” he demanded, this time looking directly at me.
I frowned at him.
“What an odd thing to ask. Of course I did. What’s gotten into you?”
A glint of green light flashed in his eyes just before he answered.
“Nothing. You ran off last time, and I don’t want to be held responsible for any mistakes you make this time.”
I stared at him in shock and growing fear. A plague had found its way into my home, and I had no idea how to stop it.
Hugh turned on his heel and would have stalked off had I not caught his arm and quickly stepped in front of him. He scowled down at me, his eyes clear of any unusual light.
“Are you all right, Hugh? Did something happen to you? Did you speak to someone?”
“We don’t have time for your games. Come. Kellen and Maeve are waiting.”
He shook off my hold and started toward the wagon. Catherine stepped up beside me as I stared after him.
“Did you see that?” I asked.
“He was a bit abrupt. Perhaps you should mention it to Lady Grimmoire.”
“No, not that. That flash in his eyes.”
“Men are prone to irritabilities. Tends to happen when their needs aren’t being met. A quick dip of his wick, and he’ll be right again.”
Confused, I looked at her.
“Sorry, miss. Didn’t mean to bring up that topic. Perhaps we should catch up, though.”
She hadn’t seen what I had. It only made me fear what was happening all the more.
Chapter Eighteen
Kellen looked up from her book when I swept into the sitting room and closed the door. In silence, she watched me pace.
“Sister, why are you clutching blue hair ribbons?”
The random question halted my steps.
“What?”
“In your hand. Why are you holding ribbons like you want to rip them apart?”
I looked down at the forgotten items and tossed them onto a side table.
“Never mind the ribbons. I’m going mad. Nothing is making any sense, and I need your logic.”
