“Mare. It’s better if no one sees me anywhere near here, you know this. In the eyes of the mayor, there’s no difference between magic and medicinal herbs.”
“He is anaspinhaul.” As I gasp at the curse, she smiles as if she’s enjoyed being sassy. “Besides, the villagers will not stand for anyone prosecuting you, not after all those bairns you’ve saved.”
“They despise me.”
“No, theyfearyou.” Mare flicks her hand through the air in her fashion. “And they don’t care about me. What happens herein is no matter to anyone.”
“Icare about you.” I tap on the tin cup with my nail.Tink. Tink. Tink.“More.”
Mare grimaces, and for once, does as she’s told without argument. And in the crackle of the fire, I return to the moment I was alone with that mercenary in the darkened guest room. He was so unfazed by shadows that would consume a lesser man. He also thought I was like Sallae Mae, something to be bought for a short time. For his pleasure.
My face turns hot, but it’s not from shame. I wonder what would have happened if I’d taken his copper and done what he’d ordered me to—and can’t believe where my mind goes. I should be wary of him, and I am. There’s something else for me, though.
Shifting my eyes to the little hearth, I stare into the flames, watching the undulation of the light, the way the flares of heat entwine and arch into each other—
Jumping back to attention, I look over at my dear old friend. She’s lying back against her pillows, the empty cup lolling in her hand, her attention seemingly on something in the middle distance between us.
“Mare?” I take the cup from her and tap on her shoulder. “Mare. Look at me.Mare.”
Just as I’m worried that I’ve given her too much, she turns her head in my direction like she’s coming back from some place in her mind.
“I want you to do something for me, Sorrel.”
Even though I try not to touch people, I take her palm in my own. “Of course. Anything.”
When she goes silent again, I fuss with the blankets with my free hand, as if that will reanimate her—
“Go to those shelves.” Her crooked finger points across the shallow room, steady as a knurled twig on a branch. “The third one from the top.”
Her voice is not the imperious one she uses when she orders me about. I’m not sure what her tone is.
I set the cup down and go over to where she instructs. “Mare?”
“The panel, it is loose. Push where it meets the molding.”
I find the fissure, and the wood yields under pressure to reveal a dark crevice. I look over my shoulder and await instruction.
“Go on,” she says softly. “Take it out.”
“What is ‘it’?”
“Your future.”
Extending my hand into the hole, I think of rats finding shelter from the cold and wet in the leaky walls of the shop. But instead of rabid little teeth, I feel something like velvet. When I go to pull whatever it is out, I’m astonished at how heavy—
The red velvet bag is tied at the top with a golden tassel that captures the firelight. “What’s this?” I repeat.
“Open it.”
With fumbling hands, I do as instructed—
Royal coins spill out into my palm and fall onto the floor, landing in a gleaming, tinkling chorus at my feet.
“Mare…” I breathe.
My elderly companion sits up in a way she hasn’t been able to for a month. “When I was banished, I snuck them out in the skirt of my gown. As I was still legally the wife of a nobleman, they did not search me.”
Turning a coin over in my palm, I am awed. “I’ve never seen even one of these before.”
