There was silence between them for several moments.
“You’d better eat if you’re going to,” he said at last, his tone carrying a bit of unease, as if he was not used to making conversation.
“I’m not very hungry,” she lied. “I had quite a large meal last night, remember?” Alys would have rather married Clement Cobb on the spot than remind Piers that the pomegranate Layla was now polishing off was the last piece of food she had. He had already made it clear that he thought her a stupid girl and that he would not take responsibility for her. Alys would not ask him for food.
She chose not to think about what would become of her resolve in a day or more.
“How could I forget?” Piers said snidely. “It is beyond me still why you would choose to run away from a home and inheritance such as Fallstowe.”
“Of course it is beyond you, because you don’t know what it is like there,” Alys said, rummaging through her bag now for some sort of pillow of her own. The only thing large enough to give her any comfort was the blue perse gown. She wound it around her arm with a vengeful smile, thinking of the extravagant amount of money Sybilla had paid for it. “The castle is horrid; Sybilla, worse.”
“Oh, come now,” Piers scoffed, re-corking his jug and shoving it down in his bag. Alys wondered briefly if it contained wine. “What was it? Too much money? You couldn’t walk the corridors without tripping over a pile of it?”
Alys went still. “Don’t mock me, Piers. Everyone envies Fallstowe, and they think Sybilla the epitome of beauty, power, wealth, charm. But my sister cares for no one save herself, her own advancement. The retainment of her station as ruler of Fallstowe. She would do anything, crush anyone, to keep hold of all she now has. She would even deny our king. You can’t possibly know how vicious she is.” She was horrified to hear her words thickening. “I consider myself lucky to have escaped.”
He was quiet for a moment, and when next he spoke, his voice had changed, gentled. “It was bad for you?”
She nodded. “She … Sybilla tried to smother me.”
“My God,” Piers breathed. He was intent on her now, and Alys felt his appraisal like a warm wash of water. Gooseflesh sprang on her arms as he continued. “It was the same with me, with … with my stepbrother.”
Her eyes widened, and hope burst into her chest. “Is that why you work a dairy? Why you say you are only mostly common? Did you leave to escape your family?”
“No. My father sent me there,” he admitted.
“Oh!” Alys gasped. “That’s outrageous!”
“It was the best thing,” Piers assured her. “It likely saved my life. But what of you? I had no idea the Foxe family was such a den of treachery.”
He was not mocking her now, and so Alys was happy to continue the conversation. “Sybilla has always been cool natured, from what I can remember of my earliest memories of her. But when mother fell ill some four years ago—stricken so that her right side was completely without use—Sybilla began receiving instruction to take our mother’s place. ‘Twas then that her evil found its head.”
“Power?” Piers guessed, sounding more interested in Alys than he had the entire time of their strange acquaintance.
“Indeed. Power and status. And she exercises both well.” Alys dropped her eyes to her lap, picking at the folds of her gown. “After Mother died … Sybilla became less than human. Bitter. Demanding. I was a trouble to her, and so she sought a way to put end to me disrupting her cool order of things.”
“Jesus. Little wonder you were so eager to escape.” He leaned forward a bit. “What did she use?”
Alys opened her mouth but then quickly closed it again, confused. “I beg your pardon?”
“Was it a cushion? A rope?Her bare hands?”He sat up fully now, engaged and animated. “Bevan tried to hang me from the loft once when we were young, but the rope was too thin—old and rotted—and it snapped before I passed out.”
Alys was horrified. “Whatareyou talking about?”
“Your sister smothering you,” Piers said.
“I don’t mean she actually tried tokill me!”Alys cried. “My God, what kind of—” Alys stopped abruptly. “Wait! You said Bevan. Bevan Mal—you work adairy! Bevan Mallory is your stepbrother?”
“Yousaidshe tried tosmotheryou!” Piers accused. “You meant only that your sister wouldn’t give over to your every whim, didn’t you?”
“No! Well, perhaps I should have used ‘stifle’ rather than ‘smother,’ but—Bevan Mallory tried to kill you? More than once?”
“This conversation is over,” Piers growled. He turned away from her and lay down.
“I disagree,” Alys said, scrambling to his side. “Is Bevan the one who gave you the marks you now bear?”
“Go to sleep, Alys.”
“How can I? Is Judith Angwedd your mother?”
