“Nor there either,” she said, picking it up out of the way.
As she watched the hedgepig continue on toward her discarded slipper, she felt a tingling at the back of her neck.
They weren’t alone.She was being watched.
Sliding her gaze warily to the left, she glimpsed a second spiny beast huddled on her bed, regarding her with beady eyes.
“Pokerounce,” she scolded in a whisper, “ye’re not allowed on the bed, and ye know it.”
She picked up the wriggling hedgepig and placed her on the floor next to her sister.
“Ye two are naughty wee lasses tonight.”
Then she smirked.They weren’t the only ones.
She clucked her tongue at the adorable pair of hedgepigs.She’d rescued them last spring when their mother had been killed by a hound.
Lately they’d had a strong nesting instinct that had led them to snuggle in her skirts, hide in the peat pile on the hearth, and burrow into her pallet.She supposed she’d have to do something about that soon.
Meanwhile, she plucked out the vials of bath oils from her willow basket and propped the basket upside down in the corner for them.They immediately toddled over and made themselves at home within the makeshift nest.
The boots proved roomy but serviceable.She snatched up the hood she’d fashioned out of brown scraps and pulled it over her head.It was perfect.Deep enough to both warm her ears and keep her face hidden under the cold, bright moon.
When she held her mirror out at arm’s length, a wave of shame washed over her again.She looked nothing like the daughter her father was so proud of.
The woman in the reflection was someone even Carenza hardly recognized.A wayward, willful, disobedient scruff of a lass who was about to embark on a mission that was disgraceful.Dishonorable.Deceitful.And dangerous.
When Hew awoke the next morn, it was over.
The man had died in the middle of the night.The abbot had delivered last rites.The monks had prepared the body.And the physician had gone home.
At the midday meal, Hew was finally able to ask the bleary-eyed abbot where the physician came from.
“Peris?Dunlop Castle,” the abbot replied.“He’s the laird’s own physician.”
Dunlop again.
“Why do ye ask?”the prior said.
“The physician wasn’t on your list,” Hew pointed out.
The prior gave him a humorless smile.“I didn’t feel it necessary to include him.He’s here only on occasion.”
“Of course.Still, we must leave no stone unturned in the pursuit of justice.”
“O’ course.”
“I’ll need to make a visit to Dunlop,” Hew decided, “to speak with him.”
“He’s likely exhausted,” the prior argued.“He was up all night, carin’ for a dyin’ man.”
“He’s right,” the abbot agreed, which pleased the prior, until he added, “But ’tis a few hours walk, and ye could go later today.”
“I’ll go with him,” the prior volunteered.“I can make introductions.”
The abbot’s brow creased.“I may need ye here.We still have the burial to complete.”
“The burial will be on the morrow, aye?”the prior reminded him.
