The courtyard met her with the smell of hay and the scrape of cart wheels. Three villagers waited near the gate, and she studied them as she moved closer. A woman was wringing her hands, a man stood with his cap between his fingers, and a boy with mud to his knees hovered behind.
Maggie would have loved the place, but she had taken the children to nursery for their naps. Kristen had to steady herself without a dog at her heel.
“What is wrong?” she asked.
“The grain shed flooded, me Lady,” the man replied. “We misjudged the ditch, and the water leaked under the door.”
“Me goat is ailing,” the woman added. “She willnae rise, and her milk tastes strange.”
“Andheput his geese on our grass,” the boy blurted, pointing at the man. “Da said it was fair, but it isnae fair.”
Kristen raised her hands placatingly. “One at a time. For the shed, I will send a guard to help ye fix it. He’ll ken more about these things than I do, so ye have to be patient.” Her eyes flicked to the woman. “For the goat, ye will give her warm water with a pinch of salt, and ye will keep her by the fireplace. If she doesnae rise by morning, send for the healer. He should be able to help ye.”
“Me Lady—” the third boy started.
“Asfor the geese, nay grazing on the lower field till the ditch is right. Ye can take the east strip, and ye will keep to it,” Kristen spoke over him.
Relief flashed across the man’s face, and the woman nodded and nearly wept. The boy quieted, solemn under orders.
Kristen turned to the nearest guard. “Escort them home, and carry the timber as far as the mill road. Make sure the east strip is marked.”
“Aye, me Lady.” The guard nodded once.
“Bless ye,” the woman said, and gripped Kristen’s hand. “Ye make things right.”
“I try.” Kristen smiled. “Go now. The day runs fast.”
They left lighter than they had come, she could tell.
She stood a moment and breathed deeply. She had been doing this for five years; she knew how most of it went by now. She especially knew that most of the people just needed a listening ear. She had always tried to be that for everyone.
She turned around and looked up without thinking.
Neil stood on the tower wall, his hands braced against the stone, watching the courtyard with an unreadable gaze. For some reason, the evening made him look somber.
Eventually, he spotted her and gave a polite nod.
Her breath caught. She nodded back stiffly and went inside, before her heart betrayed her again.
Her chamber felt different when she reentered it, as if the gowns had been whispering in her absence. The light had dimmed by a degree, and the gowns held their place like a line of arguments that would not back down.
She trailed her hand over the wine-red dress and felt the fabric answer, soft and sure. “Fine,” she muttered. “I choose this one.”
She pulled it on and tied the laces. The bodice fit snugly around her back, and the way the skirts draped over her legs seemed right enough. She smoothed the waist and turned to the mirror. If she didn’t know better, she would think the woman staring back at her was hopeful and happy.
She twisted her hair and pinned it up, then let two curls fall, then pinned them again.
“Get a hold of yerself,” she whispered to her reflection. “Yecare what ye think, nay one else.”
The words steadied her, in a way. Her decision was made.
She lifted her chin and looked at her own eyes until they met her without flinching. The truth she would not speak out loud rose in her chest anyway.
Shewantedher husband to look.
Davina breezed in without knocking. “Kristen… oh,” she murmured, then burst into laughter at the sight of garments strewn over every surface. “God’s breath, lass. Are ye preparing for battle or a feast?”
“It is only dinner,” Kristen said, shoving a shawl off the chair with the back of her hand.
