The Silver Rose Read Online Free PDF Page B

but bringing it round was no great matter.”
    “No great matter! Miri, I am told the poor beast suffered from milk fever, which is well known to be an incurable disease.”
    “It wouldn’t be,” Miri said indignantly, “if the world had not become such a superstitious and ignorant place that people have become afraid to consult the ancient texts wise women compiled centuries ago. But no, I perform a simple procedure and am suspected of being a witch.”
    She spread her hands in appeal. “But what else could I have done, Marie? The Pomfreys are poor folk. They could not afford to lose that cow. Should I have just refused to help, let that poor animal perish? And her with a newborn calf.”
    Marie Claire sighed. “No, you could no more deny aid to a sick creature than Ariane could turn her back on an ailing child. Just be as careful as you can and remember, you still have powerful enemies.”
    “If you mean the Dark Queen, her battles were with Ariane and Gabrielle. I doubt she even remembers the existence of a third Cheney sister.”
    “Trust me, my dear, Catherine de Medici has a long memory. She never forgets anyone or anything that might prove a threat to her power.”
    “That hardly describes me. The Dark Queen would have far more reason to be wary of
you,
Marie. You were the one who was able to plant a spy in her very court.”
    “That was a long time ago. Now I am an old woman of no power or consequence. Most of the world believes me long dead.”
    “Forgive me, Marie,” Miri said hesitantly. “But I doubt your pretense has really fooled anyone. At least not here on Faire Isle.”
    “No, most of the local people are quite aware of who I am, but they tolerate my presence. Even Father Benedict says nothing when I creep into his church to hear the mass. But he is a kind young man, a good shepherd who would rather coax a wayward lamb back into the fold than see it slaughtered for straying.”
    Marie Claire smiled and took a long swallow of wine, but there was clearly something else weighing on her mind, something that filled Miri with an inexplicable sense of apprehension.
    Marie Claire ran her finger over the rim of her cup, silent for a long moment. “Miri . . . I have been reluctant to tell you this until I was sure. But I have had another message from a friend of mine, a wise woman living in Saint-Malo.”
    Marie Claire paused, released a long breath before saying, “He is back.”
    There was no need for Miri to ask who Marie Claire meant by
he.
Her stomach clenched so hard it hurt. She wrapped her arms across her middle.
    “S-simon Aristide?” she faltered. “But he has not been heard from in years.”
    “Nonetheless, he has been spotted prowling about Brittany. Le Balafre is far too distinctive a figure to be mistaken. He appears to be traveling alone, no army of witch-hunters at his back, but that does not make him any less dangerous.”
    “You need hardly tell
me
that.” Miri shot to her feet, struggling to conceal her agitation. She paced over to the cage and thrust crumbs of her bread through the bars. With a flutter of wings, the ravens descended from their perch and pecked greedily at the crusts with their long beaks.
    Wolf birds . . . that was the other name for Marie Claire’s beloved pets. Predators.
    Just like Simon.
    Except that that had not always been true. Miri’s mind swept her back to a long-ago midnight upon a rugged cliff amidst the towering circle of stone giants and the flare of torchlight. The night winds had teased the dark curls spilling over Simon’s brow, a startling contrast to his milk-white skin . . . the most beautiful boy she had ever seen.
    “
I thought all witch-hunters were old and ugly,” she had said in dazed accents and Simon had flashed his irrepressible smile.
    “Odd. I have always believed the same about witches.”
    “But I am not a witch.”
    “I never said you were,” he had responded in a gentler tone.
    And Simon hadn’t . . . at least not