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revealing to her mother that she had married. How on earth could such news be delivered? She respected her father, but it seemed rather cowardly of him to run away rather than facing Lady Graham's wrath.
       In an attempt to calm herself, Aila focused on Latin grammatical rules, a trick she had learned during her studies to deal with unpleasant situations. Unlike most girls, Aila had benefited from an extensive education, since her mother planned for her elevation in the Church. Latin had been a primary lesson, since it was the language of the scriptures. In her youth, she had asked why the Bible was not translated into English but was told in shocked, hushed tones that such thoughts were heretical.
       Aila muttered Latin verbs, Latin nouns, and even tried a little Italian. Nothing helped. She trudged up the tower stairs as if she were mounting the steps to the gallows. Taking a deep breath, Aila entered her mother's domain.
       "Good day, Mother," she said in a voice she hoped was not too loud nor too soft, too cheerful nor too gloomy.
       Her mother was wrapped in fur and reclining in a high-backed, padded chair. Her wheat-blonde hair was arranged in an ornate style, plaited high on her head and held in place with jeweled pins. Lady Moira Graham had been a stunning beauty in her youth and still retained much of her looks. A nervous-looking lady's maid stood behind her, while two serving maids laid out the midday meal on an ornately carved table in front of her. The sitting room was filled like a priceless heirloom labyrinth with expensive objects displayed on delicate tables placed around the room.
       The faint smell of perfume hung in the air, rising from the dried lavender and rose water liberally sprin kled over the fresh rushes covering the floor. Colorful tapestries hung beside one another across the outer stone wall of the tower room, covering the window openings and making the air hot and stale, giving the room a stifling feeling. Daylight effectively banished, the room flickered with the dancing light of numerous wax candles, too many to count.
       Lady Graham frowned at her daughter, the expres sion marring her beautiful face. "Ye're late," her mother stated, her voice cold. "Yer lack of attention to yer responsibilities and fidelity to yer own kin is disappointing. I had certainly expected better from ye than to make the entire household wait until ye decided to deign us wi' yer presence."
       "I apologize, Mother." Aila took her seat across the table. The wedding had put her behind schedule, but Aila recognized that mentioning it would hardly help her case.
       "Ye apologize, do ye? And ye believe that an adequate recompense for yer discourteous, disre spectful behavior?"
       Aila did not provide a response, as none was required, and turned instead to the maids. "'Twill be all for now, thank ye."
       At their dismissal, the maids vanished like smoke in a sharp wind. Once they were alone, Aila pulled her chair around the table and moved her food so she was sitting next to her mother. It was only then Lady Graham removed her hands from beneath her fur cloak, revealing her disfigurement. Her bony fingers were red and swollen at the joints, her hands twisted into immovable fists. Aila cut the meat in the trencher into bite-sized chunks and began to feed her mother. Lady Graham reached with both hands to drink from her goblet and would have spilled had Aila not caught it. Her mother made a small sound that might have been anger or frustration or shame, and grudgingly continued to allow Aila to feed her.
       Aila knew it was mortifying for her mother to be unable to do for herself and attributed much of her mother's bitterness to that fact. Lady Graham took great pains to prevent anyone, particularly her husband, from knowing her condition, which had slowly and painfully worsened over the years. Lady Graham was a proud woman, though her life had begun simply enough, the daughter of a