“I’ve just come from the abbess,” Maddy said.
“Is something wrong?”
Maddy sighed and slid the torch into an empty sconce. She turned to Lillian. “I don’t know how to say this, so I might as well just come out with it. I’m going to Heath, instead of Sister Clara. I leave in a few days.”
The shock that reverberated through her made Lillian’s voice shake. “Why is she sending you instead of Sister Clara?”
“I asked her to,” Maddy said softly.
She’d asked her to. She was leaving. Lillian hadn’t expected this moment to arrive so soon, or to be so dramatic. She’d imagined Maddy gently severing their relationship when she’d grown bored or was ready to take a consort, not an abrupt and final end that had her leaving the monastery.
“I need to go to Heath, need to sort through the material myself.” Maddy reached out to touch Lillian’s face.
Lillian drew back. She picked up the parchment and focused on it. “Thank you for telling me,” she said stiffly.
“Lillian, please look at me. Please.”
Why, so Maddy could see her pain laid bare and smile smugly, as Caroline always had?
“I don’t have much time. I have to meet the abbess in the library.”
“You’d better get going, then.” Lillian swallowed when she felt Maddy’s hand on her arm. Why wouldn’t she just leave?
“We have to talk about this. Why don’t you come to my chambers in about an hour?”
“I don’t see the point, Maddy. You’ll be gone for longer than we’ve been seeing each other.”
“But—”
“If you still want to, we can talk when you get back from Heath.” If Maddy returned.
“Lillian, please.” Maddy’s voice was filled with sorrow.
“I have work to do,” Lillian said, her eyes still on the parchment.
A moment later, Maddy’s hand left Lillian’s arm. From the corner of her eye, Lillian glimpsed her sliding the torch from the sconce, then she could see her no longer. Maddy’s footsteps stopped when she neared the doorway. One part of Lillian hoped Maddy would turn back and press her to talk; the other wanted to be alone and to never see her again. The footsteps resumed, and then Maddy was gone, leaving a dimmer laboratory behind.
Once again Lillian had trouble reading the script on the parchment, but this time the tears in her eyes caused the blur.
S
ophia stopped outside Lillian’s laboratory and peered through the doorway. Her heart ached. Lillian sat motionless, hunched over the table. “Maddy said you were here,” she said loudly, pretending not to notice when Lillian grabbed a piece of parchment and held it in front of her face.
“Not another visitor,” Lillian said with an exasperated sigh. “I come down here to be alone. I might as well be sitting in the middle of the bloody courtyard!”
“I’ve come to see how you are.” Sophia glanced around for an empty sconce and slid her torch into the nearest one. “Maddy said you were here.”
“And I suppose Maddy told you I’m not pleased that she’s leaving,” Lillian said, her voice even. She couldn’t relax the tautness in her face, though, and Sophia read her inner turmoil.
“Maddy didn’t tell me anything. She didn’t have to. Her long face told the story, just as yours does.”
Lillian let the parchment drop to the table. “Well, I’m fine, so you can go. But before you do, is there anyone you’d like me to pretend to be interested in so they’ll flee the monastery? Or is driving one sister away every twenty years good enough?” Her mouth tightened; she propped her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands.
“Caroline didn’t leave because of you. And Maddy isn’t, either.” Sophia slipped her arm around Lillian’s stiff shoulders and squeezed her. “She cares about you.”
“But not enough to stay,” Lillian said quietly.
“It’s not about you. It’s about her, about being malflowed.”
“It doesn’t matter that she’s malflowed!”
“It matters to her, Lillian. It matters to her.”
Sophia narrowly dodged the chair when Lillian suddenly pushed it back and stood. “I should never have gotten involved with her,” Lillian said, pacing. “I was content, Sophia. Content.” She stopped in front of the table and stabbed it with her finger for emphasis. “And then Maddy happened.”
“Things rarely just happen with you, Lillian,” Sophia said, her sympathy deepening at the sight of Lillian’s red eyes.
Lillian stared at her, then swung away to pace again. “Maddy did.” She threw up her arms. “Oh, and I suppose you and Elizabeth have been snickering at what a foolish cow I am, falling for a sister almost half my age.”
“We’ve done nothing of the sort!” Sophia exhaled sharply and reminded herself that Lillian was hurting. “I’ll admit that I was skeptical at first. But at the same time, I was pleased. I was starting to worry that you’d never risk a relationship again.”
“Well, I did, and look how it turned out.” Lillian stopped pacing and stared into space. “I don’t think I’m meant to be in a relationship. They’re for other people, not me.”
“I suspect Maddy would disagree. It’s clear to me and to everyone who’s seen you together that she cares about you very much. And you obviously care for her. I was starting to think . . .” She hesitated.
“What?”
“I was starting to think that perhaps you might end up as consorts.”
Lillian gaped. “Consorts? Have you lost your mind? Maddy would never take me as a consort.”
“Why not?” Sophia asked, noting with interest that Lillian hadn’t said
she
wouldn’t take Maddy as a consort.
“Look at me!” Lillian slapped her chest with both hands. “One day Maddy will wake up and realize how old I am.”
Sophia smiled gently. “I think she knows how old you are. Unless I dreamed it, she dined with us on your birthday.”
“No, Sophia, I mean really realize it—when she starts playing the ‘how old will Lillian be when I’m this old?’ game. When she’s ready to take a consort, she’ll want someone her own age. Someone to grow old with, not someone who’ll drop dead tomorrow.”
Sophia tutted. “You’re as healthy as an ox, you have years ahead of you. And nobody knows when Salbine will take them, Lillian. Too often, age has nothing to do with it.”
“Why would you even think we’d be consorts?” Lillian’s hands went to her hips. “You never once raised the possibility of consorts when I was seeing Caroline. I’ve been with Maddy five minutes and you already have us on our knees at the front of the chapel.”
Sophia didn’t have to betray her conversation with Maddy to answer. “Caroline would never have taken you as a consort. She didn’t care about you. She was using you.” If not for the table acting as a barrier between her and Lillian, Sophia wouldn’t have been so blunt. “I know you loved her and perhaps hoped it would go that way, but it never would have happened, Lillian. Never.” She winced at the pain that flashed across Lillian’s face. So time and a new relationship hadn’t healed the wound once and for all. Would Lillian ever put Caroline behind her?
“I’m not sure I loved her.” Lillian dropped her hands to her sides. “I thought I did, but now I’m not sure.”
“Because of your relationship with Maddy?” Sophia asked, hopeful and surprised. Perhaps the wound was healing after all. She stepped back when Lillian rounded the table, then relaxed when her sister sank back into the chair, her shoulders slumped; the fight had apparently left her. But Lillian didn’t answer the question. Sophia moved closer, lightly touched her arm. “I know it’s early days with Maddy, but I have a good feeling about the two of you. When we dined together, I could see you as consorts. You’re comfortable with each other, and you seem to enjoy each other’s company.”
Lillian snorted. “Comfortable. How exciting! I bet that’s just what Maddy wants in a consort.”
“It had better be what she wants. Once that initial burst of lust and excitement and novelty has worn off, there had better be a genuine friendship left in its wake, one that allows you to be yourselves with each other. That’s what will see you through to the end. And that’s another reason I never saw you and Caroline as consorts.” When Lillian didn’t say anything, Sophia continued. “Don’t make the mistake of equating comfortable with boring. Anyway, if you’re convinced that Maddy will never accept you as a consort, why are you with her? I wouldn’t ask if your relationship with her was a casual one, but it obviously isn’t.” When Lillian didn’t respond, Sophia started to ask the question again. It was too important for Lillian to ignore. “Why are—”
“Maybe when I’m dying and looking back over my life, I want to be able to say that someone cared once, even if for a short time. That someone chose to be with me in that way for a little while. That—” Lillian broke off and rubbed at her eye.
Sophia blinked; Lillian’s eyes weren’t the only ones holding tears.
Lillian drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t mind being on my own, not really. Sometimes I look at you and Elizabeth and wonder, but I’m set in my ways now. If I wanted a consort, I’d have taken one years ago.”
“No, you wouldn’t have! You’ve been too hung up on what happened with Caroline.”
Lillian smashed her fist onto the table. An empty jar tipped over but didn’t break.
“I think you have a chance with Maddy,” Sophia pressed, “but let’s say you don’t. There are a number of sisters around your age who have yet to take consorts, or whose consorts have gone to Salbine.”
“Then go find consorts for them! I don’t need one. And I doubt anyone would want me, if I did.”
Sophia couldn’t resist putting her arm around Lillian’s shoulders again. She pressed her cheek against Lillian’s. “I think there might be an initiate who’d consider taking you on, in time.” Maddy had to sort out her own life, first. By understanding that, the woman had demonstrated a maturity beyond her years and raised Sophia’s estimation of her.
“Will you please stop forcing Maddy on me?” Lillian said, though she didn’t pull away. “I’ve spoiled everything anyway.”
“How?”
“She wanted me to see her later, to talk. I told her no. I said I’d talk to her when she gets back from Heath.”
Sophia smiled. “You’re allowed to change your mind. I doubt she’ll mind if you do.”
Lillian sighed loudly. “What’s the point?”
“Do you care about her?” After a moment, Sophia felt Lillian nod. “Then send her on her way with your blessing. I know you don’t want her to leave and perhaps don’t understand why she has to go. But if you care about her, you’ll put yourself aside and give her what she needs from you right now. Sometimes you have to do that when you care about someone. And it will be better for you, too. You’ll regret that you didn’t, once she’s gone.”
Lillian swallowed. “I’m afraid she won’t come back.”
“She’s promised me she will,” Sophia said, despite sharing Lillian’s fear. “And thank you.”
“For what?” Lillian asked, turning to Sophia.
“For not shouting at me for giving her permission to go. I had to say yes. If she doesn’t come to terms with being malflowed, we might all lose her for good.”
“The material at Heath might not help her.”
“If so, she’ll at least have seen it with her own eyes and know for sure.”
Lillian grunted. “You’re her abbess, Sophia. You can’t keep her here for me, and I suppose I wouldn’t want you to.”
“That may be, but it was a difficult decision all the same, knowing how it would affect you.” It was the first time her duties as abbess had clashed with her love for her sister. Sophia squeezed Lillian’s shoulders and straightened. “I’ll let you get back to that parchment. Or perhaps you’ll go see Maddy?” She didn’t expect a reply. “You know where I am. And Elizabeth.”
She patted Lillian’s arm and slid the torch from the sconce. At the doorway, she stopped to glance over her shoulder. Lillian didn’t notice. She appeared deep in thought, hopefully trying to persuade herself to swallow her pride and talk to Maddy.
*****
Maddy lifted the lid of the small chest one of the defenders had carried up and peered inside. There wasn’t much room, but she didn’t have much, and the less they took with them, the sooner they’d arrive at Heath. She planned to take a few shifts, a couple of robes, an extra pair of shoes, and her sewing and embroidery tools—she needed something to occupy her when she wasn’t in Heath’s library. Oh, and paper, sealing wax, quills, and ink. She’d write to Lillian, even if Lillian didn’t come around before she left. The packhorse wouldn’t carry the chest; it was for the convenience of the defender who’d be carrying her things to the stables, where he’d bundle her items into a pack, perhaps two, to sling over the horse.
She closed the lid with a sigh and pushed herself up from her knees. Supper would be served soon, but she had no appetite. Lillian’s reaction had left her despondent, not only because Maddy was afraid she’d lost her, but because the despair she’d felt since then had made it clear that Lillian was her only source of joy at the monastery.
Her journey to Heath had taken on a new urgency that frightened her. What if the malflowed sister hadn’t left anything behind to help Maddy deal with her condition? What if she had, but it didn’t help, didn’t rekindle Maddy’s relationship with Salbine or point her to a next step? Now that she knew the abbess wouldn’t stand in her way if she decided to leave the Order, the temptation would be great. Perhaps it would have been better to not know, to feel trapped and so never give up, to keep searching until she drew her last breath.
She studied the branches on her hands that no longer reflected her inner spirit. They weren’t bare and dry and withered, nor turning to dust that a wind would eventually scatter, leaving no trace of the lush leaves formerly nourished by the knowledge that Salbine had chosen her to serve.
Why, Salbine? Why?
Someone rapped at the door. Probably Rose, wondering if Maddy wanted to head to the dining hall. Maddy grasped the door’s iron ring and pulled it open, ready with an excuse to put Rose off. “Lillian!” she blurted.
“Would you still like to talk?”
“Yes! Come in.” She stood aside.
Lillian strode in and gazed at the chest sitting on the floor. “I wish you weren’t going, but I know you have to. I told you once that I was involved with someone who left the monastery.”