‘Good. We don’t want anyone turning up to claim the child back. Is it sick?’
‘No.’
‘Is it settled?’
‘Yes,’ she lied.
He tugged on his beard. ‘I’ve seen plenty of babies today,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘I’ve got to accept one of them.’ He turned back to Maylie. ‘Are you sure about this? Once the Queen has the baby you won’t be able to get it back …’
Maylie’s stomach clenched. She looked down at the sleeping child, serene and pure. ‘I’m sure,’ she said.
‘You’re a Mountain girl, aren’t you?’
Maylie did not know if this would be a strike against her, but there was no use denying it. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I live in Tormale. In the Pits.’
Master Jakespurcia was quiet for a beat. ‘Bring the child here,’ he said.
Maylie stepped forward and carefully lowered the baby on to the desk, still wrapped in her shawl. For once, the child did not rouse. One delicate hand was clenched around the tie, a pale pink ribbonwound between tiny fingers. With a start, Maylie realized it was her treasured ribbon – Esmelie’s ribbon – pinned on her shawl so that she could have a little piece of her sister with her always. She leant forward to remove it, but Master Jakespurcia was already sweeping closer to look at the baby, brushing her aside.
‘I’ll conduct a quick examination and we’ll let you know,’ he said.
Maylie blinked.
‘You can wait outside,’ he added.
Maylie slowly moved backwards. A voice inside her screamed to stop and grab her baby, but she forced herself to turn away.
Something had to change. This way they could both survive.
Just as the door was closing, Master Jakespurcia called, ‘Oh, what’s your name, girl? I’ll need to mark it in the records.’
Without thinking, she replied, ‘My name is Esmelie. Esmelie Tuchi.’
THE MORNING OF THE 300TH MAIDEN SACRIFICE
Maylie
MAYLIE SAT WITHher head hanging, staring at the rough wooden floorboards beneath her feet. She could feel Chrisanie’s concerned gaze on her, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. She had told her tale and she was full of the guilt, pain and remorse that had plagued her for the last eighteen winters. It ran through her blood like poison.
‘I did a terrible thing,’ she whispered. ‘An awful, terrible thing.’
Dawn light glowed soft and bright at the windows. Another day.
Maylie felt hands upon her shoulders. Chrisanie was lifting her, pulling her to him.
‘You shouldn’t have held this secret for so long, May,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have suffered like that.’
Maylie tried to pull away from him. ‘Did you not hear what I said? Did you not hear what I did?’
She looked into her husband’s brown eyes, pale and shining.
‘I won’t pass judgement on you,’ he replied. ‘I weren’t there. But I know you, May. You’re a kind person – a loving mother. It must’ve been so hard.’
Sobs tore at Maylie’s throat. ‘’Tis the hardest thing I’ve ever done,’ she gasped. ‘I’ve thought of her every day since.’
She buried her face in Chrisanie’s shoulder and wept, breathing in his comforting, familiar smell of warm skin and wood chippings. She cried for the baby that she had left behind and she cried for the girl that she had been – scared, weak and alone, barely able to look after herself, let alone someone else.
‘It happened so fast,’ she whispered. ‘I returned to the shack in the Pits and slept for days. When I’d recovered, I realized what’d happened – I realized that I missed her. But when I went back to the castle, they wouldn’t let me past the gates. They said I’d given up my rights. I almost went mad. You see, I tried to get her back. I promise, I did try.’
