“I didn’t suffocate him. I made sure he could breathe.”
“Barely.”
Lillian folded her arms. “I’m not apologizing, to you or to him. He got exactly what he deserved.”
“And now I’ll have to soothe any hurt feelings,” Sophia said, shaking her head at the bother. “He might insist I punish you.”
“And will you?”
“No. But only because he had no business being in the Initiates Tower, or on monastery grounds, for that matter. I hope Barnabus gets to the bottom of it.” Sophia pointed a warning forefinger at Lillian. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not upset with you. If you need to, um, deal with him again, show some restraint—for me.”
“Very well,” Lillian muttered, feeling a smidgen of regret that Sophia would have to make a grand show of smoothing Merrin’s wounded ego. Better Sophia than her; there was a reason she’d never coveted Sophia’s position. “Is that it, then? Can I go now?”
“Not just yet,” Sophia murmured. She took another sip of her tea.
Annoyed, Lillian shifted in her chair and stifled a sigh.
Would Sophia please get on with it!
She wanted to check an experiment before early morning prayers.
Sophia set her cup down. “I was just wondering when you’re planning to let everyone in on the amazing discovery you’ve made.”
“What amazing discovery?” Lillian snapped, wondering exactly what was in Sophia’s tea.
“Why, the ability to teleport, of course,” Sophia said lightly. “It didn’t take long for me and Elizabeth to rouse ourselves when Nora banged on our door. She waited for us in the hall, and a minute later, we were on our way to the Initiates Tower. The door to your chambers is in full view of mine, yet Nora didn’t mention anything about you leaving your chambers. Barnabus met us when we were halfway down the east steps, and he didn’t mention seeing you either. Yet there you were, fully robed, when we arrived.” Her brow furrowed. “I guess you must have developed psychic abilities too, since you knew exactly where Merrin was without anyone telling you.”
This time she didn’t bother to stifle a sigh. “If you want to ask me something, ask! Why must you always drag everything out instead of saying what you want to say?”
“If that’s what you want. Who were you with, Lillian?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your affair.”
“It is my affair if there’s going to be drama in the Initiates Tower,” Sophia said harshly. “Now, there are only four chambers on that floor, so if I have to summon four sisters here, I will. Though I presume I can eliminate Nora, because you wouldn’t have sent her for me. So who is it?”
Lillian blew out some air and studied her fingernails. The last thing she wanted was Sophia questioning everyone about her bed partners. “Maddy.”
“Maddy?”
Lillian snapped her head up. “Yes, Maddy! Can I go now?”
“Maddy is, what, twenty-four?” Sophia said, ignoring Lillian’s question. “And you are . . .” She stared at Lillian.
“Forty-one. And a half.” Sophia continued to stare at her. “Three-quarters?” Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “All right, forty-two next month.” Much to Lillian’s dismay, her face had grown hot. “And before you tell me I’m making a fool of myself, I know she probably has a different sister in her bed every night.”
“Would it bother you if she did?”
Terribly. She’d admitted as much to herself last week, when she’d had trouble working out a potion formula because thoughts of Maddy had continually broken her concentration. But admitting that to Sophia . . .
Her silence answered for her. Sophia’s forehead creased. “Oh, Lillian,” she said softly. “I’ve hoped you might find a reason to emerge from that claustrophobic old laboratory of yours every once in a while, but I thought perhaps another mistress might catch your eye. Dorothy shares your love of alchemy.”
Well, good for Dorothy.
“She’s been alone since Winifred went to Salbine last year.”
“Sophia, I’m perfectly happy on my own, all right?”
“You
were
perfectly happy.” Sophia peered at Lillian through her spectacles. “Why Maddy?”
She’d asked herself the same question many times. “I don’t know.”
“And you don’t seem bothered that you can’t explain it. Oh dear.”
“What’s wrong with Maddy?”
“Nothing. It’s just that Maddy’s . . . not like you. She doesn’t question, she simply believes.”
“Are you going to forbid me from seeing her?” Lillian asked, wanting to end a conversation that had quickly become uncomfortable.
“Of course not. You’re both of age. But where do you see it going? I hope . . .” She swallowed. “I hope she’s not another Caroline.”
Rage forced Lillian to her feet. “She isn’t!” she shouted. Needing to move, she crossed to a window and stood with her shaking hands shoved into her robe’s pockets.
A chair scraped across stone; a moment later, Lillian felt Sophia’s hand on her back. “I’m sorry, but I had to say it,” Sophia murmured. “I don’t want to see you hurt like that again.”
And it had hurt, and still did. After all this time, it still hurt as if it had happened yesterday, not almost twenty years ago.
“Maddy’s young. She’s not much older than Caroline was when she left.”
“Maddy isn’t Caroline,” Lillian said quietly. “Perhaps she does see me as nothing more than a bit of amusement, but she’s never been cruel.”
“Perhaps not, but if she sees you as nothing more than a bed partner, you’ll be hurt nonetheless. Because you don’t see her that way, do you?”
She took her time answering. “No.” Even though they’d never spent time together outside Maddy’s bedchamber—apart from the training room, but that didn’t count.
“Have you told her how you feel?”
No, because she was afraid Maddy might tell her she was too old to be more than a bed warmer. As Sophia had pointed out, Maddy was only twenty-four; she’d likely grow bored with the monastery’s loner once the novelty had worn off, especially since she spent most of her time with fresh-faced initiates. And if Lillian were to voice her feelings to Maddy, she could no longer pretend that Maddy didn’t matter. She’d be vulnerable, and she hated being vulnerable.
“You do talk, don’t you?” Sophia asked.
“Not about . . . whatever it is we’re doing,” she said, glad that Sophia couldn’t see her face.
“Oh dear.” Sophia stepped to Lillian’s side and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Talk to her, Lillian. You might not like what she says, but at least you’ll know.”
She rested her head on Sophia’s shoulder. “Do you think I’m making a fool of myself?” she asked faintly.
Sophia squeezed her. “I don’t know. Only Maddy can answer that. So talk to her.”
The prayer bell sounded. Lillian tutted. “I wanted to check an experiment.”
“No time now.” Sophia dashed to her desk and gulped down the remains of her tea. “You can do it after prayers.”
When Lillian had nothing in particular to say to Salbine, which happened often, she took advantage of early morning prayers to plan her day. But she knew what she’d beseech Salbine for today: courage.
*****
Maddy plunked her bowl onto the wooden table and squeezed herself onto the bench between Nora and Rose. She stirred her porridge, hardly able to hear her spoon scraping the bowl over the spirited chatter that filled the communal dining hall.
Gwendolyn and Abigail eyed her from across the table. “We got the shock of our lives last night,” Gwendolyn said over the din.
Maddy nodded. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw Merrin. What on earth did he think he was doing?”
“Oh, well, that was shocking too, but I wasn’t referring to that.”
Maddy paused her spoon. “Oh?”
“I meant Mistress Lillian coming out of your chambers,” Gwendolyn said, her eyes bright.
Those around Maddy grew quiet. “You spent the night with Mistress Lillian?” Rose said around a mouthful of porridge.
“I didn’t know you’d taken up the study of ancient artifacts,” Nora said, prompting gales of laughter.
Maddy hunched her shoulders and quickly lifted a spoonful of porridge to her mouth. The sooner she finished eating, the sooner she could escape.
“I’m sure there are easier ways to pass your fire exam,” Gwendolyn said.
“What are you implying?” Maddy snapped, more offended on Lillian’s behalf than her own.
“Don’t be crude, Gwendolyn,” Rose said.
“All right, maybe she was with the mistress because she misses her ma,” Gwendolyn said, provoking a chorus of groans.
“Thank you very much,” Abigail shouted, rising from the bench. “I have a hard enough time choking down this slop every morning without you saying things that make me want to bring it back up. Salbine preserve me.” She grabbed her bowl and stomped off to another table.
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. “She’s always cranky when she hasn’t had enough sleep.”
“Or maybe you’re not as funny as you think you are,” Rose said.
Maddy silently thanked her friend. She should stand up for herself and Lillian, but Gwendolyn would only twist anything she said to show off her so-called wit.
Gwendolyn threw Rose a dirty look. “If Maddy wasn’t so quiet, we wouldn’t have to speculate. So come on, Maddy, enlighten us. What’s the attraction?”
Maddy dropped her spoon into her porridge. If Gwendolyn thought she’d defend or explain herself, she could think again! “I’m sure you were shocked when you realized Mistress Lillian was in my chambers,” she said, bristling. “But not half as shocked as I would have been to see
anyone
come out of yours.”
When everyone snickered, Maddy felt ashamed to have sunk to Gwendolyn’s level. Her anger shifted from Gwendolyn to herself. If she continued to see Lillian, she’d have to get used to the teasing and the barbs, learn to brush them off.
Gwendolyn glared at her. “Perhaps I’m more discreet than you,” she said with a sniff, then drained her mug of milk and slammed it down on the table. “And I can assure you that if you ever do see someone come out of my chambers, she’ll be my age!” She rose and flung “See you all at morning prayers” over her shoulder as she strode off in a huff.
With Gwendolyn gone, everyone seemed content to let the subject drop, at least until Maddy had finished breakfast. She was on her way to feed the squirrels, her pockets stuffed with the nuts one of the cooks always put aside, when Rose caught up with her. She slipped her arm through Maddy’s as they neared a copse popular with the squirrels in the monastery’s western grounds. “Now that we’re alone, tell me everything!” she squealed. “How did you end up with Mistress Lillian?”
Maddy had entered the monastery a month after Rose, and they’d become fast friends. They usually told each other everything. Rose wouldn’t give her any peace if she refused to divulge details. “It started during my second fire lesson,” she said as she dug a handful of nuts from her pocket and scattered them on the ground. Trying to coax that one shy squirrel to take a nut from her hand would have to wait; even the brave ones were still in the trees, suspicious of the stranger.
“You mean last night wasn’t the first time?” Rose exclaimed, elbowing Maddy in the ribs. “Why haven’t you said anything?”
“Because I wasn’t sure if Lil—the mistress wanted anyone to know.” They’d always managed to make it to her chambers without running into anyone on her floor. And since Lillian attended early morning prayers, she was always gone by the time Maddy and the other initiates woke. Maddy had wondered what Lillian would do if she wasn’t expected at the chapel, if she would still slip out early, regardless.
“So what happened at your second lesson?”
She’d literally fallen into Lillian’s arms. “I drew fire for the first time.”
“Right, I remember you telling me. I didn’t want to say anything at the time, but I was surprised that you waited until your second lesson. I did it during my first lesson, and so did Abigail and Grace.”
Perhaps she would have done the same, if Lillian hadn’t been her tutor. As a rule, Lillian didn’t accept students. Horror had rippled through the assembled initiates when Mistress Ivy announced that because Mistress Clarissa was away tending to her ailing ma, Mistress Lillian had agreed to teach one student about the basics of drawing fire. The same thought had run through everyone’s mind: please, don’t let it be me! To the initiates, Lillian was an intimidating figure, a powerful mage who cared little for people and was easily annoyed. She spent most of her time preparing poisons in a secret laboratory—at least that was the rumour. Aloof, impatient, unforgiving, and in possession of a supply of poisons—who’d want someone like that for a tutor?
Maddy couldn’t have been more dismayed when Mistress Ivy announced that Lillian would be her tutor. Everyone patted her arm in sympathy, relief in their eyes. By the time she arrived at the training room for her first lesson at the unusual time of eight in the evening—when Lillian could “fit her in”—she was terrified of making a mistake or of failing to quickly grasp a concept, sure that Lillian would eagerly pounce on her. Nothing could have been further from the truth. If anything, Lillian was bored, valiantly trying to appear engaged while wishing she were somewhere else. Still, Maddy was too nervous to draw fire during that first lesson. When she’d tried and failed, Lillian hadn’t pushed her. “Next lesson,” she’d said as she’d dashed off to wherever she’d rather have been for the past hour.
“Well, I didn’t try until my second lesson,” she said to Rose, not wanting to admit to her failures, “and the mistress warned me not to draw too quickly or I might feel nauseous or light-headed.”
Rose nodded. “I swayed a little.”
Maddy snorted as she pulled Rose away from the trees and up the path that led to the inner courtyard. She’d visit her other spots later; she preferred to be alone when she fed her furry friends. “I did more than sway.” Fortunately Lillian had been prepared. “I almost fainted, and would have ended up on the floor if the mistress hadn’t caught me.”
“Did she get angry?” Rose asked, her eyes wide.
“No. I grabbed onto her to steady myself.” Lillian’s rough robe had scratched her hands. “And I looked up at her, and she looked at me, and I don’t know why, but . . . I kissed her. Or she kissed me. Or we kissed each other. I don’t know, we just kissed.”