central fireplace and had a loft. A vague sadness overcame Arvana as she glanced back to the woman. A toddler darted to the woman, and she tented her apron over his head. No, it was six children, with one on the way. She tapped the boy on the rear and told him to go outside. He waddled to the door, rose on his tiptoes for the latch, and grunted, but he couldn’t reach it. This could have been my life if I remained in Sylvania, Arvana thought.
In the bedroom, she unfolded the tarp. It was quick thinking of Degarius to use it to protect the bed. It floated down over the bearskin coverings, stirring a breeze smelling of human scent and old fur.
Kieran groaned as they eased him on it.
The smell, those guttural expressions, brought back a memory Arvana tried never to recall—how her father had suffered at the end. How Allasan couldn’t stand it anymore and left. She covered her mouth.
The Cumberlandian unrolled a canvas containing surgeon’s instruments. He cut back Kieran’s leather breeches.
Blood covered Kieran’s leg.
Degarius, who was on the other side of the bed, looked up from Kieran and said to her, “Go outside.”
He saw she’d momentarily covered her mouth. He thought her a coward, that she couldn’t stand the sight of suffering. He was wrong. “What do you need me to do?” she asked.
“Leave,” he said gruffly.
Arvana bunched her fists. This wasn’t her fault. “I can help. I’ve tended worse.”
The Cumberlandian, handing a dowel to Degarius said to her, “Go to my wife. She seldom gets visitors.”
Fine. Arvana wanted nothing more than to be out of Degarius’s proximity. She’d long despised herself for her faults, but never another person except her brother like this. She hated the feeling, but it was so strong she just couldn’t tell it to go away. When and how had her guilt over his fate turned into resentment? He was the one who kept coming to the archive, who drew her picture, who wrote the coy letter, who embraced her at Teodor’s party, who kissed her in the Citadel woods.
Outside, she found the woman watching the children play leapfrog. Arvana clutched her arms tight and tried to squeeze the anger away so she could find some joy in the children’s antics. But when they noticed her, the game disbanded and the little ones ran to hide. The older ones drifted into the orchard.
“They don’t know what to make of a lady in breeches,” the woman said. “I don’t know what to make of one in a monk’s cap.”
Arvana yanked the cap off, shook out her hair, and gave the answer they’d agreed upon, the one she knew Degarius would give the Cumberlandian if prompted. “The others are monks on their way to Sarapost to start a community. I’m a former sister. When I resigned, my superior let me come with them in order to get home. She thought it safer for me if I dressed as a man.”
“Why did you resign?”
Arvana bunched the cap tight in her hands.
“It’s none of my business,” the woman said, then cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted for the children. One child came hesitantly from behind a rain barrel. Another crept from the door. After darting a few shy glances at Arvana, they started to skip and turn somersaults.
“They’re showing off for you,” the woman said, half in apology and half in pride.
Arvana managed a smile.
“Don’t worry about the monk,” the woman said. “My husband will take care of him.”
Kieran. Gripped by her bitter concerns, Arvana had forgotten him. She pulled the cap on.
The woman rested her hands on her stomach. “My husband trained in Acadia. It’s where I met him. We went along well enough until a neighbor was robbed. Acadians think every Cumberlandian a criminal. They burned our house in retribution. After we barely escaped, he decided to return to Cumberland. It’s true it’s dangerous here, but even thieves need a doctor now and then so we’re left alone.”
Outrage simmered in Arvana. The woman was good and kind,
In the bedroom, she unfolded the tarp. It was quick thinking of Degarius to use it to protect the bed. It floated down over the bearskin coverings, stirring a breeze smelling of human scent and old fur.
Kieran groaned as they eased him on it.
The smell, those guttural expressions, brought back a memory Arvana tried never to recall—how her father had suffered at the end. How Allasan couldn’t stand it anymore and left. She covered her mouth.
The Cumberlandian unrolled a canvas containing surgeon’s instruments. He cut back Kieran’s leather breeches.
Blood covered Kieran’s leg.
Degarius, who was on the other side of the bed, looked up from Kieran and said to her, “Go outside.”
He saw she’d momentarily covered her mouth. He thought her a coward, that she couldn’t stand the sight of suffering. He was wrong. “What do you need me to do?” she asked.
“Leave,” he said gruffly.
Arvana bunched her fists. This wasn’t her fault. “I can help. I’ve tended worse.”
The Cumberlandian, handing a dowel to Degarius said to her, “Go to my wife. She seldom gets visitors.”
Fine. Arvana wanted nothing more than to be out of Degarius’s proximity. She’d long despised herself for her faults, but never another person except her brother like this. She hated the feeling, but it was so strong she just couldn’t tell it to go away. When and how had her guilt over his fate turned into resentment? He was the one who kept coming to the archive, who drew her picture, who wrote the coy letter, who embraced her at Teodor’s party, who kissed her in the Citadel woods.
Outside, she found the woman watching the children play leapfrog. Arvana clutched her arms tight and tried to squeeze the anger away so she could find some joy in the children’s antics. But when they noticed her, the game disbanded and the little ones ran to hide. The older ones drifted into the orchard.
“They don’t know what to make of a lady in breeches,” the woman said. “I don’t know what to make of one in a monk’s cap.”
Arvana yanked the cap off, shook out her hair, and gave the answer they’d agreed upon, the one she knew Degarius would give the Cumberlandian if prompted. “The others are monks on their way to Sarapost to start a community. I’m a former sister. When I resigned, my superior let me come with them in order to get home. She thought it safer for me if I dressed as a man.”
“Why did you resign?”
Arvana bunched the cap tight in her hands.
“It’s none of my business,” the woman said, then cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted for the children. One child came hesitantly from behind a rain barrel. Another crept from the door. After darting a few shy glances at Arvana, they started to skip and turn somersaults.
“They’re showing off for you,” the woman said, half in apology and half in pride.
Arvana managed a smile.
“Don’t worry about the monk,” the woman said. “My husband will take care of him.”
Kieran. Gripped by her bitter concerns, Arvana had forgotten him. She pulled the cap on.
The woman rested her hands on her stomach. “My husband trained in Acadia. It’s where I met him. We went along well enough until a neighbor was robbed. Acadians think every Cumberlandian a criminal. They burned our house in retribution. After we barely escaped, he decided to return to Cumberland. It’s true it’s dangerous here, but even thieves need a doctor now and then so we’re left alone.”
Outrage simmered in Arvana. The woman was good and kind,
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