The Blight of Muirwood Read Online Free PDF Page B

before Whitsunday this fortnight. The Queen Dowager is coming to Muirwood.”
    The Aldermaston and Martin exchanged a look – a look full of dread.
     
    * * *
     
    The smell of the salve was horrible and it stung Lia’s nose. Her body throbbed as if she had been trampled by a stallion and looked the part. She was grateful it was fully dark when she left the apothecary and started towards the kitchen, anxious for a crust of bread to sate her hunger and a place she could hide her face and rest. Pasty chalk-colored salve decorated her arms, legs, and face and she walked with her hood up to hide the white splotches from the few still wandering about. Whatever news the Aldermaston had, she wanted to hear it, especially if it involved the Queen Dowager – the woman whose husband Lia had killed with an arrow at Winterrowd.
    Smoke drifted from the bread ovens and Lia inhaled it. Her stomach was in knots with hunger. It was late, so Bryn was likely still with Sowe instead of back at the village with her family. Lia liked Bryn and was pleased the Aldermaston had chosen her to fill her place in the kitchen to help Pasqua. Usually that was something left to a younger wretched to learn, but the Aldermaston had chosen someone nearly their own age. It meant that Pasqua was likely bedded down and the crossbar in place.
    Lia scratched her neck, longing for a bath. Siara had given her some special salts to bathe with which would also help with the healing. Thoughts jumbled through her mind. If she had time the next day, she would seek out Duerden and ask what he knew about the Queen Dowager. She had avoided the learner lately because he was so enraptured with his studies about the Medium and wanted to boast to her what he was learning. He did not realize that she already knew it – that someone else had already taught her the basics he was struggling to comprehend. It was so frustrating having to keep secrets from him, to pretend she knew nothing about it. That the Medium obeyed her in ways he could not even imagine.
    As she approached the kitchen, she noticed the light in the upper windows were full, so she realized Sowe and Bryn were still awake. Exhaustedly, she pulled at the handle and it opened easily, filling her with the breath of baked bread, some roast in the spit, and fragrant cloves and spices. A man’s voice was telling a story – a voice she recognized instantly and it caused her stomach to drop down to her toes.
    It was Edmon’s voice. They had met at the battlefield of Winterrowd in Colvin’s tent. “…No, it is true! Do not laugh – it was the perfect depiction of stubbornness you could imagine. Picture this - the king’s council and there was Demont, red-faced and shouting…” He stopped suddenly, turning to the opening door.
    Lia stood for a moment in utter shock. Edmon, the Earl of Norris-York, was telling stories in the kitchen – her kitchen – as if that were completely normal. There was Pasqua, grinning and serving up a bowl of tarterelles. Sowe and Bryn were hanging on his every word, their eyes lit by the lantern light.
    Then she heard another voice as he emerged from the shadows beneath the loft. “Lia?”
    There was Colvin.
    It was too much. All eyes fastened to her standing in the doorway. Could they see her ravaged face in the shadows? She was completely overwhelmed. Colvin approached, wearing clothes elegant enough for a prince of the realm. His maston-sword was belted to his waist. She looked at his face as he approached, saw the little scar near his eyebrow and her blood began pounding inside her ears. Not tonight. Not like this! She was ashamed at her appearance, her muddy clothes, the rash and salve. She could not swallow. She could not breathe. She could not even think properly.
    “Lia?” Edmon asked, straightening and then smiling. “Lia! You returned early!”
    She slammed the door and started away, walking briskly then started to run, but she was so tired she only made it a few steps