Page 48 of Lord of Misrule

“Kit! Kit!” Brenna hurried over. Oliver had dismounted and was with her in an instant. “Did you hear? We’ve lost our home and the business and everything we own. Ooooooh,” moaned Brenna with her hand on her belly.

“I will send my men to town to find out all they can,” Tolin offered. “Once the vandal is caught he will punished, I promise.”

“My bakery. It’s gone.” Kit rocked back and forth on her knees crying, staring into space.

“This is horrible. But at least we have somewhere to live for the next ten days,” said Oliver, meaning the castle.

“Nay. Nay, we don’t.” Kit looked up to Tolin with desperation in her eyes. “Lord Tolin granted Parker his freedom. We were to leave and go back home today.”

“We were?” gasped Brenna, starting to cry as well. “So, I really will have to birth my baby in a barn after all. Oh, Kit, what will we do now?”

Oliver pulled Brenna to him to try to comfort her.

“You will all stay here until further notice,” Tolin spoke up.

“What?” Kit sniffled and looked over at him. “But you said Parker’s punishment is over. You told me we were free to go. Have you changed your mind about the sentence?”

Tolin realized they had nowhere to go. He’d seen how cold Kit and Parker were on the hunt. What were they going to do now since they were homeless and it was the middle of winter? They couldn’t live in the streets. He wouldn’t let them. They had no bakery, no home. Nothing. It sounded as if everything they’d owned was burned in the fire.

“Nay. There is no more sentence,” Tolin clarified himself. “But you may still stay.”

“Oh, Kit, Lord Tolin is letting us stay,” cried Brenna. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Nay, it isn’t,” said Kit, standing up and regaining her composure. She pulled her son to her and ran her hand through his tangled hair. “Thank you, Lord Tolin for your offer, but we cannot accept it.”

“You can’t? Why not?” asked Tolin, having hoped she’d be relieved by hearing his decision. She certainly didn’t seem grateful.

“We will survive, we always have,” Kit continued. “I will not have anyone feeling pity for me and my family. We don’t want your charity. We will still leave today as planned.”

Tolin didn’t know what to say. He had offered them a way out of this mess and the fool girl wouldn’t take it.

“Tolin, do something,” whispered Raven.

“Wait!” he called out, as Kit and her family started to walk away. “It wasn’t a request, but a command,” he told her.

“A command?” Kit narrowed her eyes. “You said the punishment was over.”

“Yes. And it is,” he assured her.

“Then I’m confused. How is it a command and why?”

“We are in the midst of Christmastide and its celebrations, if I must remind you,” he explained. “I am also the Lord of Misrule, so I order you, Kit Baker, to get back to the kitchen through Twelfth Night. I also command your son and sister to help you. And as Lord of Misrule, I want Oliver to get back to work in the stable, starting with my horse right here, right now.”

“My lord?” asked Oliver in confusion. “You want me to continue working in the stable? Really?”

“Yes, I do,” he said, handing Oliver his horse’s reins.

“Lord Tolin, I know what you’re doing,” said Kit with a glare. “This might all be naught but a game to you, but it isn’t to me. This is my life! My family’s life. It is something that must be taken seriously and cannot be toyed with. As I told you, I will not have anyone feeling sorry for me and my family, and I mean it. You can’t do this. You cannot make us stay.”

“Ah, that is where you are wrong, sweetheart,” said Tolin with a chuckle. “As the Lord of Misrule, anything I command anyone to do must happen. My orders must be followed. It is the rule of the game.”

“That’s right,” agreed Brother Ruford. “I’m afraid you and your family will have to stay until Twelfth Night now, Kit.”

“Why doesn’t the Lord of Misrule command that I get my bed back?” grumbled Rook, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’d like plum pudding tonight, Kit. It is a must during Christmastime and we’ve yet to have it. You do know how to make it, don’t you?” asked Tolin.

“Of course I do,” she said through her teeth. “But I don’t believe you do.” She crossed her arms over her chest.