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Authors: Stella Marie Alden
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come.”
“Aye. He lives in Carlisle and goes by the name of the Earl of Annandale. Leave me to sleep until the sun is halfway to high, then wake me. Try to keep the one with the prongs out of the stall.”
“We shall both perish.”
Nicholas put his forearm across his eyes and moaned. “You worry like an old granny. I’ll think of something.”
Chapter 12
Barely aware of her surroundings, Fay shuddered and hurried up the tunnel stairs to the kitchen. In the blackness, the ghost of her stepbrother laughed at her and breathed down her neck. Her heart raced as her mind struggled to grasp what had happened. She’d never before recalled the-day-that-could-not-be-spoken . Why now?
As she tiptoed into her chambers, she felt blindly, and lit a tallow candle with fire ring. Over the ocean, the wind blew clouds covering moon and stars. Was he still out there?
As promised, she set the light onto the ledge for him to see.
What was I thinking? To kiss him so wantonly?
Even now, her nipples tightened at the thought of his beautiful body. What kind of sickness was this? Haddr would understand. She almost went to wake her, but at the last moment, thought better of it. They couldn’t risk any more rumors.
Kicking at the keep wall, in her mind she shouted, “I hate you. I hate your parapets. I hate your tiers. I hate the ghosts that walk here. You hold nothing but death.”
How she wished to be wrapped in her monk’s comforting arms instead of pacing across the confining room.
I kissed a holy man and fell into his arms like a tavern whore. She moaned. Worse than that, she’d do it again, if given the opportunity.
Lying down on her pallet, she punched at the straw repeatedly. When that didn’t ease the ache, she grabbed her bow and aimed out the window. The coarse string pulled on her fingertips. She let go and imagined where her arrow would land. Thus, on went the night, until her mind stopped churning and her long-dead stepbrother disappeared into the shadows.
She woke, barely rested, and spread across her pallet. The worn wood of her bow still rested in her hand. Outside, Loki barked, the drawbridge clunked, and she wandered to her window with a light heart. Below, for the first time in weeks, a few carts loaded with goods traveled across the bridge and into the lowest area of the keep.
Her monk tossed a thick branch into the moat, and entered after. He’d been out all night? Today, she’d convince him to denounce his holy vows and take her away forever.
Cheered by the thought, she shouted out her door and down. “Haddr?”
“Aye, m’lady?” Her friend stood at the foot of the stairs, covered in flour.
Fay itched her scalp, sandy from last night. “Can you find Aiden? Ask him to grab Ollie and fetch me a bucket of water. I need to wash.”
In minutes, two of her orphans entered, carrying a large barrel of water. Aiden frowned, “It’s quite cold. I could warm it.”
She kissed them both atop their heads. “It matters not. Go see Haddr and tell her you’ve earned a sweet roll.”
Putting her feet into the barrel, she wondered what would become of them when she left them. The next lord of the Manx might put them out or worse.
Before I go, I’ll have to see them all apprenticed on the mainland.
Content with all the fine decisions she’d already made this early morn, she washed her inner shirt and hung it to dry. As she donned her spare, gray with age, it made her recall her last horrid trip to Scarborough. She grimaced at the thought of Nicholas-the-Knave and that her summer trading was cut short. How he was related to her sweet monk, she’d never know.
For the first time ever, she dragged her mother’s old trunk into the center of the room, found a fine kirtle, and plaited her hair in the fashion of the Manx. Mayhap she’d go into the village today and find more help. With bow over shoulder, she belted her quiver and descended the stairs. There, her brood of orphans fought as they opened the
“Aye. He lives in Carlisle and goes by the name of the Earl of Annandale. Leave me to sleep until the sun is halfway to high, then wake me. Try to keep the one with the prongs out of the stall.”
“We shall both perish.”
Nicholas put his forearm across his eyes and moaned. “You worry like an old granny. I’ll think of something.”
Chapter 12
Barely aware of her surroundings, Fay shuddered and hurried up the tunnel stairs to the kitchen. In the blackness, the ghost of her stepbrother laughed at her and breathed down her neck. Her heart raced as her mind struggled to grasp what had happened. She’d never before recalled the-day-that-could-not-be-spoken . Why now?
As she tiptoed into her chambers, she felt blindly, and lit a tallow candle with fire ring. Over the ocean, the wind blew clouds covering moon and stars. Was he still out there?
As promised, she set the light onto the ledge for him to see.
What was I thinking? To kiss him so wantonly?
Even now, her nipples tightened at the thought of his beautiful body. What kind of sickness was this? Haddr would understand. She almost went to wake her, but at the last moment, thought better of it. They couldn’t risk any more rumors.
Kicking at the keep wall, in her mind she shouted, “I hate you. I hate your parapets. I hate your tiers. I hate the ghosts that walk here. You hold nothing but death.”
How she wished to be wrapped in her monk’s comforting arms instead of pacing across the confining room.
I kissed a holy man and fell into his arms like a tavern whore. She moaned. Worse than that, she’d do it again, if given the opportunity.
Lying down on her pallet, she punched at the straw repeatedly. When that didn’t ease the ache, she grabbed her bow and aimed out the window. The coarse string pulled on her fingertips. She let go and imagined where her arrow would land. Thus, on went the night, until her mind stopped churning and her long-dead stepbrother disappeared into the shadows.
She woke, barely rested, and spread across her pallet. The worn wood of her bow still rested in her hand. Outside, Loki barked, the drawbridge clunked, and she wandered to her window with a light heart. Below, for the first time in weeks, a few carts loaded with goods traveled across the bridge and into the lowest area of the keep.
Her monk tossed a thick branch into the moat, and entered after. He’d been out all night? Today, she’d convince him to denounce his holy vows and take her away forever.
Cheered by the thought, she shouted out her door and down. “Haddr?”
“Aye, m’lady?” Her friend stood at the foot of the stairs, covered in flour.
Fay itched her scalp, sandy from last night. “Can you find Aiden? Ask him to grab Ollie and fetch me a bucket of water. I need to wash.”
In minutes, two of her orphans entered, carrying a large barrel of water. Aiden frowned, “It’s quite cold. I could warm it.”
She kissed them both atop their heads. “It matters not. Go see Haddr and tell her you’ve earned a sweet roll.”
Putting her feet into the barrel, she wondered what would become of them when she left them. The next lord of the Manx might put them out or worse.
Before I go, I’ll have to see them all apprenticed on the mainland.
Content with all the fine decisions she’d already made this early morn, she washed her inner shirt and hung it to dry. As she donned her spare, gray with age, it made her recall her last horrid trip to Scarborough. She grimaced at the thought of Nicholas-the-Knave and that her summer trading was cut short. How he was related to her sweet monk, she’d never know.
For the first time ever, she dragged her mother’s old trunk into the center of the room, found a fine kirtle, and plaited her hair in the fashion of the Manx. Mayhap she’d go into the village today and find more help. With bow over shoulder, she belted her quiver and descended the stairs. There, her brood of orphans fought as they opened the
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