“Why?”
“I should be happy that Emmey will be back with her family tomorrow, but I’m not, not completely.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re selfish.”
Tears stung Maddy’s eyes. “And now I’m going to have a little cry,” she said with a sniffle. “Don’t mind me, I’m just being silly.”
Lillian put her arm around Maddy and squeezed her. “You’re not being silly.”
Maddy rested her head on Lillian’s shoulder, rubbed her cheek against her robe. “I said I’d make you a robe from softer wool, but I find your rough robes oddly comforting.”
“They’re very empathic, my robes,” Lillian said, making Maddy smile.
“Will you miss her?” Maddy asked, tucking her hand into Lillian’s.
“It’ll certainly be quieter.”
“You won’t miss her at all?”
Lillian took her time answering. “I’m not attached to her in the same way you are. You two shared an experience that brought you close. And I don’t relate well to children.”
“I’ve seen the two of you talking, certainly more than you did earlier on.”
“I feel more comfortable around her, and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her. I could grow fond of her, with time. But right now, my affection for her doesn’t run as deep as yours. I’ll miss her in the sense that it will be strange not having her around.” Lillian lifted Maddy’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “I have to admit, I’m looking forward to having you to myself for a bit.”
Maddy gazed at her. “We’re not having much of a romance, are we? You left the monastery to come save me, and ended up with a cripple and a child.”
Lillian snorted. “Romance is for the bards. And you’re not a cripple. You’re managing quite well.”
“I can get along, but I don’t know what I’ll do back in Merrin.” She smiled. “And romance isn’t just for the bards. I thought it was quite romantic, you galloping after me on Baxter and riding into the prison just in time to save the day.”
Lillian’s face flushed. “Now you’re being silly.”
“Perhaps I am. Most folk would run away screaming if someone whispered, ‘I’m going to cut your hand off,’ into their ear.”
“If you want flowery words, you’re with the wrong person.”
“I don’t. And I’m not.” Words came so easily and were often empty. Lillian had shown her love umpteen times since arriving at the prison—in saving Maddy’s life, searching for Emmey, agreeing to take her home, and putting up with Emmey without losing her temper too often. Maddy had done nothing but take. She’d miss Emmey terribly and wonder about her every day, but it was time to look toward the monastery and the rest of her life, which she hoped to share with Lillian.
“You’ll do fine back in Merrin.” Lillian said. “To be honest, I was a bit surprised when you agreed to go back so easily. I thought you’d take some convincing, especially after all that had happened to you.”
Maddy was silent while she collected her thoughts. “I still don’t understand why I’m malflowed. I still feel as if I must have done something wrong. Salbine’s will has been a mystery to me ever since that night in the training room, and recent events haven’t helped any. But if I’m to find my way again, I need an anchor, something I can hold onto while I venture out in search of answers. That’s the Order, the sisters at Merrin.”
You.
“I still love Salbine. I still want to serve Her. I’ve come to accept that my place is in the Order. But I don’t know how I’m going to serve.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to figure that out.”
She liked the
We’ll
. “I still want to go to Heath.”
“And you will, once Sophia’s calmed down.”
“Do you think we can see Emmey on the way? I’d like to be able to tell her that she’ll see us in a few months’ time. Well, me.”
“I don’t care how many sisters and defenders Sophia sends with you, I’m going too.” Lillian cleared her throat. “Though when I said Sophia would have to calm down first, I was thinking in terms of years.”
Maddy chuckled.
“How are you feeling, physically?” Lillian asked.
“Stronger. I almost feel normal. For the longest time, I was worried that I’d suffered permanent injury, but I just needed decent grub.” She steeled herself, then said the words she knew would hurt. “I can never draw the elements again.”
“You should never have tried, especially since you knew you’d fail. You’re lucky it didn’t kill you.”
“I had to try! They wouldn’t have hanged only me. Jonathan’s life would have been forfeit, too. And if I hadn’t tried, I would have been hanged. I only ended up in prison because they thought Salbine was judging me.” She didn’t entirely disagree with them.
“You didn’t deserve prison.” Lillian lifted a stick from the pile next to her and threw it onto the fire.
“If I hadn’t gone to prison, Emmey would still be rotting there—or worse.”
Lillian was silent for a moment. “I’m surprised you don’t resent Emmey.”
Maddy twisted toward her. “Why would I resent her?”
“When she told me your story, she said you were burned saving her.”
“She left out an important detail. That prisoner was going for me. He only went for her when she leaped in front of me, to defend me.”
“The silly mite,” Lillian murmured.
“I’m going to miss that silly mite,” Maddy said, tearing up again. “I won’t be very good company for a while, I’m afraid.”
Lillian’s lips brushed against Maddy’s ear. “You’re always good company.”
“Careful. That almost sounded romantic.” Her light tone belied her sorrow. Maddy leaned into Lillian again, and quietly wept as they watched the fire dance.
M
addy clutched Emmey’s hand as Lillian tethered the horses.
Remember to smile.
No matter how conflicted she felt when Emmey and her ma reunited, she must smile and wish them well. There would be time to cry later. Poor Lillian. “Are you sure it’s near here?” she asked Emmey.
Emmey nodded.
“That was clever of you, remembering the name of the shop nearby.” Using that information, several folk had directed them to this spot. Emmey’s home should be just around the corner.
“I used to come here all the time, Miss.”
Maddy had expected Emmey to be excited, but she seemed subdued. “You’ll see your ma and your brothers and sisters soon.” No reaction. Perhaps Emmey had seen through her false cheerfulness.
“Right. Where do you live, then?” Lillian asked briskly, earning Maddy’s gratitude. If it were left up to her, she’d drag out these last few minutes as long as she could.
Emmey pointed to her right. “Around there.”
Lillian walked in that direction and greased the palms of three beggars before they even reached the corner. Maddy had already gathered that this was the poorer area of Pinewood. She’d thought that imprisonment had removed all the meat from Emmey’s bones, but the children searching for scraps were almost as emaciated as Emmey had been. “Do you think it’s safe to leave the horses unattended?” she asked Lillian.
“Don’t worry. Anyone who tries to touch the horses is in for a nasty surprise.”
“Not a fatal one, I hope.”
“No, no, no.”
A loud, piercing yelp made Maddy turn in time to see a child racing away from the horses, shaking his hand.
Lillian grunted. “See? Still alive.”
They turned the corner and entered a cul-de-sac ringed by dilapidated wooden shacks. “Which one is yours?” Maddy asked, keeping the horror out of her voice with effort. A home was built on love, not coin. But it was difficult not to be dismayed, especially when she’d return to the comforts of the monastery. Perhaps Salbine was trying to teach her to count her blessings and be grateful for what she had, rather than focusing on what she lacked.
Emmey pointed. “That one.”
“Are you sure?” Maddy asked as they approached it. The front door stood ajar, the single front window was shattered, and the roof would no longer keep out the rain.
Lillian frowned. “It looks abandoned.” She hesitantly pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Maddy followed her, still holding Emmey’s hand. She raised her stump and pressed it against her nose. Rubbish lay strewn over the floor of the single room. Maddy quickly stepped aside as a rat lumbered by, then jumped at a loud shout behind her: “Oy! What are you doing in there?” She didn’t need more of an excuse to leave the rank shack.
“I’m sick of you folk dumping your rubbish and pissing and shitting in there,” the woman standing outside the shack yelled. “You’re attracting all the vermin. They don’t stay in there, you know. They end up in—” Her eyes widened; she lowered her head and backed up. “Begging your pardon, Sister. I didn’t know it was you. I thought—”
“It’s all right,” Maddy said, gratefully sucking in fresh air. A grimacing Lillian stumbled out after her.
Emmey looked up at Maddy. “That’s Mrs. Clarehill.”
Clarehill straightened. “How do you know my name?” She peered at Emmey. “Emmey, is that you?”
Emmey nodded.
Clarehill’s hand went to her chest. “My goodness, child, I never expected to see you again. Look at you! You’re a proper little girl.”
“We’re hoping to return Emmey to her family,” Maddy said.
Clarehill snorted. “Long gone, they are.” She swept her arm toward the abandoned shack. “As you can see. She found another fella and fell in love, the stupid cow. Followed him who knows where, ready to pop another babe. She won’t be back, and I doubt she expected this one to be back. How did you get out, Emmey? And why? You were probably doing better in there.”
Maddy’s breath caught in her throat. “You knew she was in prison?”
“Of course I did! Right ruckus, it was.”
“What happened?” Lillian asked.
“You don’t know? Cassy had her own little den of thieves, she did. Emmey’s ma,” she clarified in response to Maddy’s questioning look. “Popped one out regular, she did. All with different pas, I’m sure. You don’t want to know the comings and goings, Sisters, believe me. Once they were four or five, it was out to rob whoever they could.” Her gaze shifted to Emmey. “But this one didn’t want to. Fought fiercely with her ma, she did. Ran away so many times I lost count, but she always came back.”
“How did she end up in prison?” Lillian asked impatiently.
“Oh, well, this one got it into her head that if she nicked something big, that would be it. She wouldn’t have to nick again. Some noble rode into town—who was it?” She was silent for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t remember his name.”
“It wasn’t Conrad, Duke of Merrin, was it?”
Maddy breathed a sigh of relief when Clarehill shook her head, before nodding it toward Emmey. “This one tried to empty his purse. Well, he caught her, and he turned out to be a vindictive son of a— Oh, begging your pardon.”
“Son of a bitch?” Lillian said.
Maddy inwardly sighed.
Clarehill eyed Lillian uneasily. “Yes, well, he dragged her here with his men in tow, ranting and raving that he’d burn Cassy’s shack down and see that she was hanged for harbouring dirty thieves. Now, Cassy always cared more about Cassy than anyone else. So she threw her own daughter to the wolves, saved her skin by offering Emmey to him. Fortunately he wasn’t inclined that way, so he said he’d throw her into prison to rot. Maybe he planned to use her when she was older. Who knows? Truth be told, I thought he’d get rid of her the moment he left town.”
Maddy wasn’t sure if Clarehill had expected him to dump her or kill her.
“But a few months later one of his men passed through to, uh, visit Cassy. He said the lord had dumped the child in some prison, just like he’d said he would. I never thought I’d see her again. How did you get out?” she asked Emmey. Her eyes flicked to Lillian, then to Maddy. “You got her out, didn’t you?”
“Sort of.” Maddy’s mind raced. “Do you know where Cassy went?”
“Listen to me, Sister. I don’t know where she went, and I’m not sure I’d tell you, if I did. You’d be better off leaving this one to the alleys than you would taking her to that woman. Mind my words—I wasn’t lying when I said she was probably better off in prison than she’d ever been here. Her ma probably don’t even remember her name. She didn’t seem to miss her.”
“Surely that’s not true.”
“You don’t know what it’s like out here, Sister.” Clarehill gave Maddy’s sewn sleeve a pitying glance. “Though your life isn’t without hardship, I’m sure.”
Maddy felt her face tighten. “Thank you for the information.”
“No bother, Sister. There’s an orphanage of sorts up in the merchants’ sector, on the north road out of town. Look for a blacksmith’s, it’s right next door. I’d drop her off there. Anyway, I best be getting back to my sewing.”
“Salbine keep you,” Maddy murmured.
“Thank you, Sister.” She turned away, not giving Emmey a second glance.
Maddy met Lillian’s eyes, not sure what to do next. She looked down when Emmey tugged on her robe, then dropped to her knee at the sight of Emmey’s trembling chin. “I’m sorry your ma isn’t here.”
Emmey blinked rapidly. A tear rolled down her cheek. “Can I keep my clothes?” she asked in a quavering voice.
It took Maddy a second to understand the implication of Emmey’s question. “We’re not leaving you here!” Though she had no idea what they were going to do.
“You kept your promise, Miss.” Emmey wiped away the tear, but she was clearly fighting more. Maddy reached for her, but Emmey stiffened. “You have to go home,” she said solemnly. “You kept your promise.”
“I may have kept my promise, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about what happens to you.”
“I got nowhere else to go now.” Emmey’s lips quivered. “I just want my clothes, Miss.”
Why was Emmey being so stubborn? She couldn’t possibly believe they’d just walk away and not give her a second’s thought. Then again, if what Clarehill had told them about Cassy was true . . .
“Emmey, we need your help,” Lillian said. “I want to sleep in a proper bed tonight, so I’m well-rested when we begin our journey back to Merrin. You know the types of inns we like—quiet, where the bards pack up early. Do you think you can help us find one? You know Pinewood better than we do.”