“Come on, then.” Lillian started for the stairwell. Maddy smiled and grabbed her hand. The cushion cover could wait. Since Nora had been with Maddy the last time Lillian had unexpectedly shown up, she’d guess what had happened when she saw Maddy’s things all over her table.
Two hours later they lounged under the shade of a grand oak tree, sighing contentedly, their bellies full. Maddy snuggled into Lillian, who sat propped against the tree’s trunk, and rested her head on Lillian’s shoulder, feeling the now familiar scratch of Lillian’s rough robe against her cheek. Perhaps she should have made her a robe instead of a cushion cover—a bright, soft robe, in contrast to the dark, rough robes Lillian habitually wore. But would Lillian wear such a robe? And how would Maddy have measured her? They were about the same height, but Lillian had more meat on her bones; some would describe her as plump. Maybe she could have sneaked out of bed one night after Lillian had fallen asleep and measured one of her robes. An idea to tuck away for another time.
“Would you like to do something on your birthday?” she murmured, her eyes half closed. “I can cook supper for you if you like. We can have it in my chambers.” Or would Lillian finally invite Maddy to hers? Maddy was starting to wonder if Lillian’s chambers were in a shambles, or if she had a pastime or habit she didn’t want Maddy to know about. She’d almost knocked on Lillian’s door once when she’d been in the Mistresses Tower for another reason, but had lost her nerve and been grateful for it later. Better to wait for an invitation than to force the issue.
“I usually dine with the abbess and Elizabeth, and this year will be no exception,” Lillian said.
“Oh.” She hadn’t been aware that the abbess hosted suppers for mistresses on their birthdays.
“But I’d like it very much if you would join us,” Lillian continued.
Maddy stifled a snort. “I doubt the abbess would want me there.”
“Actually, she suggested it.”
She lifted her head from Lillian’s shoulder. “She did?”
“Yes. But there’s a condition.”
“What? What do I have to do?”
“No, I have to do something. I have to tell you something.” Lillian grimaced and scratched her head.
“What?” Maddy asked, bursting with curiosity.
“The abbess and I . . . we came to the monastery together. Joined the Order together.”
“You came together?” Shock stabbed through her as she suddenly understood. Maddy gasped in disbelief. “You mean you and the abbess, you used to be together?”
Lillian barked a laugh. “No! No, no, no. We’re sisters.”
“Sisters,” Maddy repeated, momentarily confused. Of course they were sisters. “Oh, you mean
sisters
, not sisters.” When Lillian looked confused, she elaborated. “You’re sisters in the sense that you have the same parents, not in the sense that you both belong to the Order.”
“That’s what I bloody-well said! You don’t have to explain it to me!” Lillian bellowed.
“You’re sisters!” Maddy exclaimed, now that it was sinking in. She shifted to face Lillian and sat cross-legged. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” she asked as she frantically reviewed everything she’d ever said to the abbess about Lillian.
Lillian bit her lip. “I didn’t want to scare you off.”
“You wouldn’t have, you silly goose,” Maddy said with a grin. She slipped her hand into Lillian’s. “I’m surprised nobody’s mentioned it to me.”
“Few know, and they wouldn’t say anything. I suppose we’ve always kept it quiet so that everyone would think of us independently, not in the same breath.”
Maddy studied Lillian’s face. “I can’t say I see much of a resemblance. Maybe a little around the eyes and mouth.” And their temperaments were so different. “You must be the younger one.”
“By almost ten years.”
“That would make the abbess . . . fifty-one?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you say the abbess arrived at the monastery when she was twenty-five?” Maddy asked, recalling a conversation they’d had some time ago. “So that would mean you were sixteen.” The minimum age for admittance to the monastery.
Lillian nodded. “We set out when I was fifteen. We knew I’d be sixteen by the time we reached the gates. Sophia was about fourteen when she knew she was called. She would have arrived here at sixteen, if not for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“My ma died in childbirth, when she had me.”
Maddy squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“So that left my pa and Sophia, and a newborn. Apparently I had two older brothers, but they didn’t see their first birthdays.” Lillian took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Our pa remarried and started a family with bride number two. He and Mildred didn’t have much time for us, so Sophia watched over me. She yearned to come here when she turned sixteen, but she didn’t want to bugger off and leave me behind. When I was old enough to understand, I told her to go, but she wouldn’t. She said she would when I could take care of myself.”
“She never did leave you behind, so what does that mean?” Maddy asked, trying to keep a straight face, but failing.
Lillian’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be cheeky. I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself when I was old enough to understand her dilemma.” She looked at her lap. “I suspect it was more that she didn’t want to leave me behind without anyone who cared,” she said softly.
Regretting her joke, Maddy leaned in to hug Lillian, and closed her eyes when Lillian rubbed her back. “You both must have thought it a miracle when you were called too,” she murmured into Lillian’s neck. Lillian’s hand stopped moving. Maddy lifted her head. “What?”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly called,” Lillian said slowly.
“What do you mean?” Maddy asked, her voice sounding shrill to her ears.
Lillian shrugged. “When I realized I was marked by Salbine too, I told Sophia I’d go to the monastery with her. It was the perfect resolution to her dilemma. She could come here without leaving me behind.”
Maddy stared at her, open-mouthed. “So you’re telling me you weren’t called. You just decided to join the Order. Why? Why would you join if you’re not called?”
“To learn. To grow. To serve. And to live among women who honour Salbine.”
“But you weren’t called,” Maddy said, still bewildered. Were there other sisters like Lillian—here by their own choice, not Salbine’s? “Does the abbess know?”
“Of course she knows. I didn’t lie to her.”
“And she doesn’t care?”
“Maddy, I’m marked by Salbine and I serve Her. I belong here as much as the next sister.”
Maddy leaped to her feet. “But you weren’t drawn here, didn’t feel it was your destiny. You just . . . just . . . tagged along with someone else!” she shouted, throwing up her arms.
Lillian frowned and struggled to her feet. “Why are you so upset?”
“Look at you! You freely admit you weren’t called by Salbine, yet you can draw the elements better than any sister here, perhaps any sister anywhere.” Her agitation forced Maddy to pace. “Why can’t I draw them? I was called. I left my family to come here, left everything I knew behind. And Salbine denies me Her gifts?”
“As I’ve said before, I don’t believe how well someone can draw the elements is a measure of Salbine’s favour.”
“Maybe not, or you’d be up there with bloody Lina herself, wouldn’t you?” Maddy pointed at the sky. “And that wouldn’t make sense, since you weren’t even called. You must have a good laugh every time some poor deluded woman shows up at the gates because Salbine called her. No wonder you keep to yourself. You don’t want to mix with the simpletons who think Salbine has a say in what goes on around here.”
“Don’t be so bloody immature,” Lillian said, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, so now you’re throwing my age in my face.”
Lillian heaved a sigh. “I’d say the same thing if you were eighty-five. Stop acting like a child!”
She clenched her hands. “And now I’m a child. Fine. I’ll go take my nap.” Whirling, Maddy marched away.
“Maddy!”
No, she wouldn’t look over her shoulder. Hot, angry tears stung her eyes. She was tired of everyone saying that being malflowed didn’t matter. It would matter if it were them! They wouldn’t be so dismissive if they couldn’t draw the elements. If she were to ask those at the market to name the first two things that came to mind when they saw a sister, everyone’s answer would be the same: Salbine and the elements. Not embroidery, art, or research. The elements. So would everyone please stop trying to convince her that she was as much a sister as they were? Nobody outside the monastery would believe that, so why should she?
Lillian, especially, was in no position to advise her. She’d joined the Order for her sister, not for Salbine. If the abbess hadn’t been called, Lillian wouldn’t be here. Did she even care about Salbine? Probably not, and yet drawing the elements was second nature to her. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing!
Half an hour later she threw herself onto her bed, her anger spent. She’d acted like a right arse, and had probably driven away the one person who’d kept her from going mad since she’d learned she was malflowed. Faced with losing Lillian, she suddenly understood how much she’d drawn on their relationship to bolster herself. Lillian still wanted her, so she must be worth something, right? Maddy no longer felt as if she belonged, but she didn’t feel alone. Lillian was here. Lillian cared. Lillian still valued her company. And how had Maddy rewarded her when she’d opened up about her reason for joining the Order? She’d lashed out at her for something that wasn’t her fault.
Lillian was right, she was a child. If her behaviour had frightened Lillian off, she couldn’t blame her. And she had nerve, throwing a tantrum because Lillian hadn’t felt called. Lately her prayers had been empty and her attentiveness to Salbine minimal. She’d once awakened every day with a sense of purpose; now she drifted from day to day, struggling to find meaning where it used to abound and wondering if her relationship with Lillian was the only thing holding her to the monastery. She might soon find out.
At least Lillian was honest. Maddy felt as if she were living a lie. Or perhaps ‘trapped in a lie’ would be more apt. She couldn’t leave the monastery. The branches were on her hands, her fate sealed.
Trapped.
Someone rapped at the door. “Maddy?”
Lillian! She pulled a handkerchief from her robe’s pocket and quickly wiped her eyes, though she knew the action was futile. “Come in,” she called, pushing herself to a sitting position. Lillian opened the door and stepped into the room. “Are you still talking to me?” Maddy asked, not caring that her voice quavered.
“I think the more pertinent question is whether you’re still talking to me,” Lillian said wryly. She pushed the door shut and met Maddy’s eyes. “Now, I know I’m not here for reasons you consider acceptable, but I’ve served at this monastery for almost twenty-six years. I value this community, and I do honour Salbine. In those twenty-six years, I’ve missed early morning prayers only three times—twice when I was ill, and once when someone I care about found out she’s malflowed. And in those twenty-six years, my right to be here has been questioned once.” She held up her index finger. “Only once.”
Maddy couldn’t remember when she’d last felt so humbled and ashamed. She swung her legs off the bed and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m questioning my own right to be here, and I guess that’s making me question everyone else’s.” She twisted the handkerchief. “I know you don’t think Salbine has deliberately done this to me, but I can’t help but think that She has. And it hurts, Lillian. It hurts.” She hung her head.
The bed creaked when Lillian sat next to her. “I have to confess, I didn’t understand until today how much it is hurting you,” Lillian murmured. “I thought you were all right, that you were adjusting. You haven’t said anything when you’ve told me about the few interesting bits you’ve come across in the library.”
Maddy hadn’t wanted to bore her by constantly talking about her condition. But keeping it bottled inside had probably contributed to her infantile behaviour and ruined a pleasant afternoon with a woman she cared for deeply. “I’m struggling, Lillian.” She shoved the handkerchief back into her pocket. “I’ve lost my way. I used to be so sure of everything. But now everything I believed with all my heart has been snatched away, taking with it my purpose.”
“The only thing that’s changed is that you can’t draw the elements. Why has that taken away your purpose?” Lillian took Maddy’s hand. “Didn’t you join the Order to serve? You can still do that—you are doing it. Why do you believe that only drawing the elements counts?”
“It’s what makes us different, Lillian. Don’t we refer to the elements as Salbine’s gifts? Look at Lina’s story. She received the gifts and then founded the Order so she could teach others to draw the elements.”
“She had many reasons for founding the Order.”
“But surely that was one of the primary ones. I wonder what she would have thought of malflowed sisters. Right now, I’m apparently the only sister who can’t draw the elements, and that has me doubting everything I believed about my life.” Maddy turned her head toward Lillian and gently pressed her lips against Lillian’s cheek. “If you woke up tomorrow and could no longer draw the elements, wouldn’t you think Salbine was displeased with you in some way?”
Lillian was silent for a moment. “I suppose I might wonder, and it would be a bit of a shock, but I’d still have my laboratory, and I’d still be at early morning prayers every day. I’d miss my work with the horses, though,” she said with a frown. “I rather enjoy that.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe you wouldn’t be upset because you never felt called.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be upset!” Lillian snapped. “I probably would be. But my life would still have purpose. This would still be my home and exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
“I used to think the same.” Maddy wouldn’t have left everyone she loved if she hadn’t been certain. “I truly believed Salbine had called me. Maybe you don’t believe that, but I did.”
“I believe you, Maddy. I have no reason to disbelieve or disrespect sisters who believe they were called. But I’m not one of them.”