“Rod, this is Lady Brynn. Lord Cenric’s new wife.”
The boy’s eyes went wide, and he bowed.
“Is Rowan here?”
The boy hesitated just long enough for Brynn to notice. He shot a look at her, the stranger behind Gaitha.
Did he know she was a sorceress just yet? Brynn wasn’t sure what reputation sorceresses had here. No one had seemed too reluctant to accept her help, though they had been wary. It might just be how they were with all strangers.
“I’ll fetch her,” Rod said. “One moment, lady.” He bowed again to Brynn.
Brynn waited. She looked toward the longhouse up on the hill. From here, she could see the longhouse staff at work with the animals and tending chores.
The household was well-ordered and hard working. It was a household to be proud of.
A vaguely familiar young woman appeared, her hair bound back, though not covered. She wiped her hands on her wool apron, face smudged. She looked as if she had been at work when they summoned her.
“Lady Brynn.” Rowan’s expression was guarded, closed off. She looked to Gaitha, almost as if she was seeking the other woman’s help.
Gaitha smiled at her. “Hello, Rowan.”
Brynn didn’t want to feel anything. Rowan was a member of this village, of Ombra. She was one of the people Brynn was supposed to protect now.
“Forgive me for interrupting you.” Brynn forced a smile. “It will be brief.” She glanced to Gaitha and Esa. “Could you give us a moment?”
Esa withdrew. Gaitha arched one brow at Brynn, then took a few steps back to join the handmaid.
Brynn slipped inside the gate of the small farmstead. The young boy and an older woman watched them from the doorway of the small house.
Rowan stood straight, face neutral.
She was beautiful, Brynn supposed. Rowan reminded Brynn of a mink with her bright eyes and the easy, sinuous way she moved. Brynn remembered then where she had seen the girl before—yesterday on the riverbank.
“Lady.” Rowan inclined her head.
“I hope Melain is well.”
“My sister is much better.” Rowan’s words were clipped, terse. Brynn noted that Rowan did not thank her.
Brynn inhaled slowly. “I think this is yours.” She reached into the pouch at her hip and offered the ivory comb, folded in a scrap of cloth to keep it safe.
Rowan took it and her eyes widened in recognition. “I thought I had lost this.”
Brynn forced a smile. Rowan eyed her coldly in response. They stood there, staring at each other.
Sooner or later, Brynn would have had to face Rowan. She hadn’t wanted to be surprised by meeting her husband’s former lover, but Brynn had no idea how to do this. For all his faults, Paega had no other women during their marriage. To him, Brynn supposed she had been the other woman—the unworthy replacement to his beloved first wife.
“Do you feel Cenric treated you fairly?” Brynn asked at length. There it was. Now Rowan at least knew that Brynn knew.
Rowan let out a bark of laughter. “As his concubine, you mean?”
Brynn trained her face into one of composure. She had a responsibility to Rowan. Regardless of her own complicated feelings, she had a duty.
Rowan sighed, tucking the comb into her own pouch. “He never made me promises, but…”
But Rowan had hoped he would. That was clear enough from the way she avoided eye contact, her jaw tight.
Brynn didn’t trust herself to speak. She didn’t know what to say.
