I gazed up at him.And did you ever look her way?This was unworthy of me; I should not give way to petty jealousy. My concern was only for my friend.
Thomas’s brow dipped into a frown. “It is a hard thing to be a girl in her position—an unwed lass, feeling poorly, as she does—with her father so cruel. I would not wish it on anyone.” His sympathy lay in his own bastardy, I felt; his mother had been in Glenna’s position once. Thomas was ever the cuckoo’s child like me.
He was right; it would not be meet to say too much, or to guess. Human rules, human shame, human secrets, all acted in concert to deny Glenna the kindness she might need. A pox upon all those things!
A hint of mischief alit in Thomas’s eyes, and he offered me an arm. “See you safely home?”
A smile curved around my lips. “There’s nothing safe about you seeing me home.” I took his arm anyway, and we did not break apart until we were close enough Eamon might see.
One more attempt did I make to see Glenna Baker and offer her my herbs. Her absence was overlong, even her young brother had seemed stifled when I encountered him, and Rufus always watched over like a gargoyle on a steeple tower. Whether it was my fae senses or womanly intuition, a voice within me shouted that summat was indeed amiss, and I must see to Glenna’s welfare before it was too late.
If Glenna bore this child without a husband, Rufus would cast her from his house, she would be shunned by her good Christian neighbors, and mayhap go begging on the street. She would become like Peggy Cottar, cast adrift, the subject of gossip and scorn.
So, I must away to the oven again, basket slung over my arm, pennyroyal in my bodice. Spring was now in full bloom, the wildflowers fragrant enough to overcome the scent of the herb. My skin prickled as if the weather were much cooler, my hair rising to stand on end. With every step came the sensation of something stirring beneath me, the air moving with more than the breeze. Beltane coming, Beltane coming, all my senses sang out. The faery in me cried out in joy, delighting in this rebirth, the coming of summer, the Veil growing thin.
I could take no joy in it.
I was wracked with worry for the girl. My... friend. If things had been different, if they had moved faster with the handsome shepherd, I might have found myself in her position. I did not know whether my changeling form had the fertility of my fae nature or my human blood. Would I have gotten pregnant easily or not for many years? For this was the fae trade-off: long life in exchange for rare and precious births. And thus, Faery had been devastated to lose its queen and her heir in childbirth, or so Morven told me. No one could prevent it, even though they had sought out the most gifted midwife they could.
Could that midwife have been Mairi Grieve?
I could scarce credit it—that she served thus, and mother and child had both died. I must ask Glenna Baker what she had heard and where.
Yet Glenna was not at the oven.
Nor was her brother. ’Twas strange indeed, for the line was long, and this close to Beltane Rufus Baker surely could have used more helping hands.
I stepped into the line behind two beldames, who rolled their eyes and tightened their grips on their baskets, easing away from me.
“Good morrow, ladies,” I said, and received not a word in response, though they gawked at my birthmark.
So be it. I knew one of them had Mairi Grieve set her ankle, and the other had been treated for ague. But they had short memories, it seemed, and now I was naught but Eamon’s forgotten daughter. Why should they pay me any mind?
“Hmph,” said one of the aged dames, balancing her basket on her hip. “Seems hardly right we should have to wait so long to bake our bread, for all Rufus Baker canna keep his bairns in line.”
My ears pricked up, and I took a step closer.
“I would be home making my Beltane bannocks,” said her friend, “if Glenna Baker were out here helping her father, and not hiding her condition away.”
My breath caught.Sweet Mab, word has gotten out.I tapped one of the women on the shoulder. “Beg pardon, but what has become of Glenna Baker?”
The beldame looked me up and down. “Mind your manners, gel, and don’t go spreading gossip.” She turned back to her friend. “Is she for a convent then, or out on her rear?”
“I heard there was a suitor, mayhap. She is not showing yet, and Rufus Baker hopes to marry her off before she is. Though it will have to be someone with his head in a bucket, if he’s not heard the kind of lass he’s getting.” They bowed their heads together, snickering cruelly.
I did want to punch them, very much.
Oh, Glenna. For all her beauty, she was unwed and pregnant with another man’s child. Who would want to marry such a woman, and what might she have to endure from one who did?
Faery is easier,I thought, drawing again from Morven’s tales.Lovers pair when they want to, part when they don’t. Marriage is an alliance only, and fidelity is not expected within.But Glenna, poor Glenna, must deal with the cruel judgment and strict “morals” of the human world.
And like that, I was at the front of the line, with none to help me save Rufus Baker himself.
“Good morrow, Master Baker.” I avoided his gaze.
Never had Rufus been a handsome man, but only now did I notice his looming posture, and the stony gaze of his beady eyes. “Were ye gossiping about my Glenna?” he demanded.
“No, I...” I swallowed uncomfortably. “Where is she?”
