“You scared me and you frightened the horses. What are you doing hiding in here?”
The boy was dressed in rags. His hose had holes in the knees, while his tunic was too tight and showed a strip of skin at his belly. He wiggled, revealing bruises along his side, making her sick to her stomach. One of the marks looked like a handprint.
“I didn’t steal nothing.” The boy spat. “Let me go.”
“How old are you?”
His eyes downcast, he shuffled his feet. “Six.”
“Now tell me, how did you come to be here?”
“My parents left me in the woods for the fairies. I’m cursed.” Bravado gone, a tear streaked down his dirty face, leaving a clean track of skin in the dirt. Brown eyes met hers, and deep within, something shifted inside her.
The boy pulled his hose down a few inches so she could see his hip. There was a large birthmark that almost looked like a flower.
“Why are you showing me your birthmark?”
“The mark of the devil, lady. I am cursed. The priest said so.”
She took a handkerchief from her sleeve, dipped it in the water from the horses’ bucket, and scrubbed the boy’s face until it was pink and clean.
“I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are not cursed. Your parents were wrong to do what they did.”
He was watching her seriously, but skeptically as well.
“I want to show you something.”
With a glance around to make sure they were unobserved, Ashley pulled her skirts up to her knee, rolled her stocking down, and turned around.
She pointed. “It’s not a curse. It’s how you were born. Many people have them.” She dropped her skirts and turned to face the boy. “Do I look cursed to you?”
“Nay, lady.” He looked thoughtful. “Ladies shouldn’t show their legs.”
Ashley grinned. “No, they shouldn’t. But we’ll keep it a secret between us, shall we?”
The boy nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Merrick.”
“I’m Mistress Ashley. How did you find your way to Winterforth?”
His stomach growled again. “I walked for a fortnight.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that something about his acceptance of his situation broke her heart.
“Come along; let’s get you something to eat, and then you can come back and help me finish brushing the horse.”
He followed her into the kitchens, keeping close. The cook glanced at her and frowned.
“Mrs. Smith, I found Merrick in the stables. Looks like he could use a meal and a bath.”
The boy protested.
“The cost of your meal is a bath.”
He slumped, but nodded.
