Esther pulled the parchment toward her, her expression that of someone accepting a sentence they’d hoped to appeal.
She picked up the quill with both hands, set it carefully against the page, and began, with excruciating slowness, to form the letters.
Ava watched her and did not think about Noah.
The lovely woman, Esther wrote. Ava watched her focus hard to create neat letters.wore a blue silk gown.
Ava did not think about the particular quality of his voice when it went rough with sleep. She did not think about gray morninglight, warm rooms, or the way he had held her hand and simply looked at her, unhurried, as if she was something worth taking time over.
“Ava,” Esther said. “I spelled ‘big’ wrong.”
Ava looked at the parchment. “Ye’ve spelled it how it sounds. That’s half of it. The other half is that English is a language designed by people with too much time and too little sense.” She took the quill gently and showed her. “B-I-G. The G is the same one ye just did.”
“That’s interestin’.”
“Profoundly. Try again.”
Esther tried again. The second attempt was considerably better. She sat back and looked at it with the evaluating expression of a craftsperson assessing their own work.
“It’s nae terrible,” she said.
“It’s genuinely good.” Ava meant it. “Ye’ve been at this for three weeks, Esther. Look at where ye started.”
Esther looked at the first page of the primer, where she had traced the letters with a shaky, uncertain hand on her very first day. Then she glanced at today’s page.
“Oh,” she said softly. After a pause, she repeated, “Oh.”
“Aye,” Ava responded. “‘Oh’ is indeed fitting.”
Caitlin was in the corridor outside the schoolroom when the lesson ended, arms full of fresh linen, seemingly having a reason to walk past this part of the castle for the third time that morning.
“She’s doin’ well?” Caitlin asked, nodding toward the door as Esther disappeared toward the kitchens in search of whatever cook had promised her if she finished her lesson.
“She’s doin’ brilliantly.”
“And ye?” Caitlin said, in a tone that had absolutely nothing to do with lessons.
Ava kept walking. “Fine.”
“Fine,” Caitlin repeated. She fell into step beside her. “Ye look tired.”
“I slept poorly.”
“Did ye?” This was said with such studied neutrality that it contained its own entire conversation. “Funny, that. The night guard mentioned the Laird’s study light was on ‘til very late.”
“The Laird often works late.”
“Aye. Though Donal also said he saw someone crossin’ the corridor toward his chambers just before midnight, and?—”
“Caitlin.”
“And that the same someone was back in their own room by early mornin’, which is unusual because normally?—”
“Caitlin.”
“Normally that corridor is very quiet at night, so it was notable, and…”
Ava stopped walking and turned to face her.
