The Blight of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 2)

As evening came, and though she knew they were waiting for her in the kitchen, she had to finish walking the grounds. With Martin gone, she walked in measured steps, patiently, looking for any sign of passage. She checked the nearer shore of the fish pond, skirted the Cider Orchard because she had already checked it after visiting with Colvin, then came around to test the gate locks before returning to the kitchen. Her stomach was a hive of bees by the time she approached the door to the kitchen. What had Colvin told Marciana and Ellowyn about her?

She paused for a moment at the threshold, took a deep breath, and pulled on the handle. The moment would linger in her memory. There was Pasqua, in the middle, teaching everyone to make Gooseberry Fool.

“Whip it harder, like Sowe is. Yes, firm strokes. Yes, the sugar makes it sweet. There is the cream. Like Sowe, faster. Where are the spoons? Edmon, the spoons. Over there. We can share from the bowl.”

The opened door revealed both Sowe and Bryn in their aprons and each clutching a bowl. Bryn was trying to match the strokes of Sowe, but could not do it without spilling it. Two other finely dressed girls were nearby, watching the mixture happen.

“There she is!” said one of the girls, a smile brightening her face. She was as tall as Sowe, as slender and graceful as a swan. Her golden hair was crowned with a braided coil and her dress – it was as richly textured as the best in Muirwood, a deep green – like a velvet forest in the spring. Instead of a girdle, she wore a vest with thin lacings up the front. The sleeves were wide and pointed, barely covering her arms with an intricate stitching lining for the trim. There were no jeweled chokers or rings or necklaces, only a pendant with a deep azure stone set into it. Her arms and wrists were thin, her fingers delicate. She was beautiful and the beauty also shone from her eyes.

She approached swiftly and embraced Lia as if they had known each other all their lives. Lia was taller, slightly, and felt filthy compared to her having just walked the grounds.

“I am Marciana,” she said, taking Lia’s hands in hers, as if she could care less about the dirt and brush clinging to her hair. “Colvin has told me so much about you, I would have recognized you without the hunter’s garb. Please, you must be famished! Pasqua has been teaching us one of her naughty desserts. I love Gooseberry Fool. Did you find the spoons, Edmon?”

“At your service, as always, Ciana. Hello, Lia. I am a fool for Gooseberry Fool myself. There is something about the fruit in this Hundred. The Gooseberries are only slightly tart…you can eat them by the handful. And the apples! By Idumea, they are delicious! I had never tasted Muirwood apples before coming here. Had you, Colvin?”

Lia glanced at Colvin, feeling overwhelmed by Marciana’s exuberant welcome, and their eyes met. Muirwood apples had been their only food in the Bearden Muir.

“They are quite good,” he said simply, their eyes flashing with the shared secret. But he said nothing further.

The other girl hovering near Colvin had reddish-bronze hair and could not have been a starker contrast to Marciana. Colvin’s sister had all the confidence of a girl who had been raised in privilege, part of a Family who adored her, and with the good looks and charms that had never failed to impress. The other girl, Ellowyn, was dressed in clothes every bit as fine as Marciana’s, but she looked like a wretched. Her eyes were slightly downcast, her manners timid yet not as timid as Sowe’s. It was as if she wanted to join the fun in the kitchen, but did not trust herself to leap in. She stood in Colvin’s shadow, as if he were a rope that would keep her from drowning in a sea of memories. A year before, she had been serving in an Abbey. For the last year, she had been close to Colvin. Something dark twisted inside of Lia at the thought.

Pasqua’s voice strained with impatience. “Bring the spoons, Edmon, over here! Come have a taste. With the sugar and cream, the berries are even sweeter. You can mix in blackberries as well. And cake. A little cake is also good.” She grabbed a spoon from his hand and served him a dollop of Fool.

“It is amazing, Pasqua!” His face lit up with enjoyment as he tasted it. “And so fresh. How lucky you all are, to have it so fresh. You could sell this at the festival!”

Bryn and Sowe both burst out giggling at that remark, and he turned to them, confused.

“She does!” Bryn said, covering her mouth while laughing. “Every year.”

He smiled, chagrined. “I remember now. You already told me that. Colvin, you must try this Fool!”

They were also very different, Lia observed. Colvin and Edmon. Both wearing knight-maston swords at their belts, along with collars from Winterrowd. Both wearing the same jerkin and padded shirts. Edmon was more at ease – one who could mix company gladly and care not whether he was with nobles or wretcheds. When Lia observed him, she saw Duerden’s traits of kindness and compassion. A few more years and he would have all the girls giggling at some brainless remark. But Colvin was different. He was reserved, aloof, but always watchful. More circumspect and guarded than Edmon.