Maud flew off the bed. The darkness was smothering her, tearing at her. The deep of the shadows were grasping for her. Her heart raced for her fingers to find a wall. Her lungs struggled to get air. She clawed. Her knees hit the floor. Her shoulder bumped the end table. Her head struck a dresser handle. She scraped her fingers, scrambling to find the doorknob. The door flew open before she could find it and she sprang into Karl’s arms, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  “What happened? Are you alright?” He asked, gripping her to him nearly as tightly as she did him.

  She pressed herself further into him. Her cheek found the soft spot between his chest and shoulders. “I was just scared.”

  “Is something in there?” she felt Karl tip himself sideways, though he didn’t let go of her. One of his hands went to the back of her head, lightly caressing her hair.

  “No,” Maud held on, sighing with relief.

  “Then…” Karl let his arms slowly fall from her back, tracing her spine and then sideways just above her waist.

  “I can’t.”

  “I don’t understand.” Karl adjusted his feet with a thump that sent vibrations through both of them.

  Maud tightened. “I’m…not dressed.”

  She felt him look down, then suddenly up. “Oh—well—I mean—you are wearing—so that’s—and—yeah—I understand that.”

  That made her smile, her cheek still planted against him. It wasn’t the only reason she didn’t want to let him go. When she felt his hand return to the square of her back, she felt herself naturally gravitate to it, to him. Her heart both soothed and raced.

  “I need to get dressed,” her smile widened. She could feel heat in her cheeks.

  “Right,” Karl’s cheek had somehow moved to press into her hair. She could feel his cheek bone fitting perfectly over the top of her head. “I’m going to step with my left—your right—toward the door…now the other one…” One foot at time, in each other’s arms, they moved back into the dark bedroom doorway. He started to pull away from her, she tightened again. “I thought.”

  “Promise you won’t look.”

  “Eyes closed,” she felt him turn away from her as he finished, “And looking away.”

  She beamed as she slid to behind the door and slid it closed enough to hold her hand out it. “Get me the lamp from on the table.”

  A few thumping, heavy steps. So similar to Draka’s, just as heavy, yet so different in their swagger and pacing, Maud mused. He put the lamp handle in her hand. She pulled it through the door.

  Before she fully closed it, she held the lamp back out the door, rolling her eyes even though she didn’t let him see more than her wrists, “Light it, you dunce!”

  “Right, my fault, my fault,” Karl grabbed it. A few seconds later, he returned it.

  After she shut the door, Maud set the lamp on the nightstand beside the bed, letting the glow fill the bedroom. Her back rested on the door for a moment. She had been so frightened and when she leapt into him, he merely caught her, as if that was where she meant to be. As if it were natural. It felt natural.

  “Should I…I’ll just…You know what, I’m going to see if your mother is gardening or something.”

  “You do that,” Maud smiled until her cheeks were numb, still against the door.

  Once she had finished dressing, she went about preparing the house for Pierre’s arrival. Ink, quills, paper, Draka’s bible, the sheets of her notes on Philemon and Proverbs. She set cups with fresh tea at their places, bowls ready for when he was hungry. Another for when Ma got hungry, too. Then, as an afterthought, a place for Karl. She put a cloth over the chair he would sit in.

  For a moment, she regarded the cloth and the chair, a grin creeping over her face. He’s taller than Draka by nearly a head, as broad shouldered as Pa had been—if she remembered correctly—and had thick arms. Pa’s shirts might fit his chest, but be tight around his arms. A few slivers of fabric and some quick stitching could fix that. His legs didn’t seem much longer than Draka’s and his waist was—judging by imagining her own arms around him—nearly the same, so she might not have to adjust the trousers at all.

  Wonder what size his feet are? Maud pinched the side of her mouth at the chair when the front door opened.

  “Good morning,” Maud didn’t look up when she said it.

  “Good morning, Miss Maudeline,” Pierre said as he crossed to his chair at the table as he always does. His large pack hung at his side from a wide strap, overflowing with books and papers even though they only ever used one or two of them. He set the pack on the table with a thump.

  Less than a step behind him, was Gerard, whose clinking chainmail made Maud momentarily leap with excitement until she looked up and felt it drained instantly.

  “Good morning,” Gerard said as he went to the chair closest to the hearth—Draka’s chair.

  “I swear, if you—” Maud began.

  “No need for you to sit down, Gerard,” Aurie finished for her, coming in the door with another, older man behind her. She shared a knowing look with Maud, which soothed her fuming. “This is Father Hagen, from Alcer Monastery.”

  “We’ve met,” Father Hagen looked about the room.

  Aurie went to the chair across from Pierre, which normally was Maud’s, and pulled it out for Father Hagen, “Please, Father.”

  “Oh, thank you,” he went to it and sat down.

  Gerard was still standing at Draka’s chair, that had once been Pa’s. Maud swatted at him to get out of the way. She pretended to check the hearth when Aurie finally pulled him away, but really, she just wanted him to get out.

  “You,” Aurie pointed at the chair Maud intended for Karl, “Can sit there.”

  “Actually,” Maud was quick to go to her. “That’s for…”

  “Get another chair, if you must, then, sweety,” Aurie dismissed her.

  Karl was watching from in front of the door, making Maud stop herself from stomping her foot and saying—shouting—what she really wanted to say. Gerard can leave, Karl can stay. She would rather feed Lilith than him. But as she watched, Karl stepped outside.

  “Maud,” Aurie stood behind the chair that was actually her own, patting it, “Please, sit.”

  Hesitantly, with her eyes slowly drifting from the door, she sat in her mother’s chair. Aurie sat in Draka’s.

  “I’m not entirely certain what is going on here,” Gerard leaned back, pressing his seat scraping across the floor. It drew everyone’s attention. It drew Maud’s fiercest glare. “I do have things to do and not a lot of time to do them.”

  “Gerard,” Aurie said in a tone that made Maud gulp, “If you slide that chair one more time, I’m going to use it to reshape your jaw.” Calm. Precise. Threatening in a way that made her skin crawl.

  Now, everyone’s attention was on Aurie. Even Gerard, who suddenly looked like a little boy caught stealing a sweet from the windowsill. Aurie gave Maud a flash of an embarrassed look and straightened.

  “Talkro’s farms fed Berone. Now, I know Draka sent orders for fish to be sent to Berone,” Aurie began, looking over all of them. Her eyes fell on Gerard, “What have you done to do as he commanded, Captain?”

  “Aurie,” Gerard leaned his elbows onto the table, a far-too-friendly grin. “What is this? I mean—really? What are you doing?”

  “What is going on, Ma?” For once, even Maud agreed. What was she doing?

  Aurie put a hand on Maud’s, whispering, “You’re here to learn. Please, just watch and listen.”

  Pierre and Gerard exchanged glances, Maud couldn’t tell what they meant.

  “Fine,” Aurie sat back. “Here’s what I see happening. And, I haven’t really been outside much, so maybe I’m mistaken. But, what I’ve seen is that no boats have been loaded with fish going east in the past few hours even though there were six that were headed south, to the canal that goes west, if I remember correctly.”

  Gerard pursed his brows at her.

  Pierre blinked. “Those orders,” he cleared his throat, “Were already being filled yesterday. They weren’t our boats, they belonged to Alcer Greshons.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Oh,” Aurie nodded sarcastically. “And Alcer happens to be part of what kingdom?”

  Maud whipped her head between Aurie and Pierre. Pierre’s eyes dropped.

  “Those were the last. Everything from this point forth, except what is normally rationed for the village, is going to Berone,” Pierre tapped his fingers like spider legs on the table. “I am the Steward here, Aurelie, none of us answer to you.”

  “So, this line of questioning is only being answered out of politeness,” Gerard grinned and leaned to lift himself from the chair.

  “I am a,” Aurie looked to Father Hagen, “What did you call it, Father?”

  “Paladin,” Father Hagen shrugged.

  Gerard laughed. Pierre’s brow furrowed. Maud fumed at both of them. She nearly leapt out of her chair at…Gerard. He might be furthest from her, she might have to climb over Pierre to get to him, but she would claw his face at the first opportunity. She’d claw his face for a carrot. Pierre, she’d take the time to explain everything first.

  Aurie pinched her thigh.

  “I can confirm. Which means, yes, Captain, Steward, you do answer to her as his majesty’s Regent and, if I am correct in my understanding, the enforcer of Paladinate law,” Father Hagen grinned.

  “Why are you here, father?” The fact that it was Pierre who asked struck Maud.

  “Because, temporae facta sunt dira,” Father Hagen answered. Maud blinked.

  “Pater Hagen, quaeso, permitte mihi exponere,” Aurie said to Father Hagen as smoothly as if she were born speaking it.

  Maud gasped at her mother at the same time as Pierre. Gerard stared, his eyes wide saucers over a gaping mouth.

  “Wha—how?” Maud looked her mother over. “Is this because you’re a Paladin?”

  “Yes,” Aurie answered.

  “And there’s only one reason a Paladin is given the Gift of Tongues,” Gerard sank into the chair, shaking his head. “We need lambs.”

  “I’ll handle all of those things. Now, answer her,” Father Hagen pointed to Aurie.

  “I haven’t talked to fishermen about it, yet, but I have sent word to Alcer with that boat you saw leave this morning for them to begin sending shipments,” Gerard answered.

  “What does it mean? Gift of Tongues, that’s what the Apostles did in Acts, right?” Maud whispered into Pierre’s ear.

  “Yes,” Pierre whispered back. “Paladins all get Gifts of the Apostles, or Saints, usually only one or two, depending on what God intends for them to achieve in their lifetime.”

  “The Baron doesn’t support Draka’s rule. Do you?” Aurie narrowed her eyes at Gerard.

  “Aurie, really?” Gerard shook his head at her in disbelief. “I’m an officer in the Order of the Holy Sepulcher! Of course I support Draka!”

  “But, what does it mean if she has that gift? Why is it such a big deal?” Maud was still whispering to Pierre.

  “Because it means that Hell is coming to us,” Father Hagen answered loudly, stopping all conversations. “If it isn’t here already. Now, do as your mother says and listen, girl, your Prince Foster Father has big plans for you.”

  Maud crinkled her brow at him. Aurie narrowed her eyes.

  “Continue,” Aurie motioned to Gerard.

  “We were in a rush and had to get our own area established. After what they tried to do to you—to their own—I would think you would understand,” Gerard continued from whatever they were talking about. “We figured they would repair or build upon what we did.”

  “They work from before sunrise until after nightfall to feed their families daily, when do you expect them to build upon anything? And with what? I saw a lot of ropes, plenty of boats and tools, but not a single board, no shingles, not even logs longer than my legs. Why aren’t there any lumberers here? We have an entire forest full of trees! And houses with boards with spaces between them!”

  “I have enough trouble paying my men and you expect me to pay carpenters and skilled laborers? Trust me, it’s not that easy. I had my men, my soldiers, make houses in a week for twenty families. Built boats, a bridge, and repaired what little infrastructure was left of this prickly plowing village of yours in less than a month and you’re upset because of a few spaces between boards?”

  “If God didn’t heal them, an entire family would be dead from sickness because of it. What do you think?”

  A silence came between them, their glares sharp as knives. Maud joined Aurie’s glare toward Gerard, who glowered at them both. Pierre sank back. Father Hagen looked bored.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Feeding Berone takes priority.”

  “You’ll do both,” Aurie growled. “Not everyone will be filling the barrels and boats. Fix it before the rest of them are sick. And, you!” Her glare shot to Pierre.

  Pierre jumped in his seat, causing Maud to do the same.

  “We’re going over the money. I want to know where it’s going and why. There are migrants, yes?”

  “Yes,” Pierre answered shakily.

  “Father Hagen tells me that some of them are skilled.”

  “A few, maybe,” Gerard shrugged.

  Maud was the one who turned to Gerard with a haughty, “Shouldn’t you be doing something?”

  “Father Hagen,” Aurie’s voice softened as she turned to him.

  Maud waited for Gerard to shut the front door behind him as he walked out before following Aurie’s gaze.

  Aurie said, “I want you to continue Maud’s lessons while Pierre and I work on things.”

  “Certainly,” Father Hagen grinned.

  “I don’t see how you can help without me taking months to teach you how to—”

  “I ran this farm’s budget for twenty years, Pierre,” Aurie stood from her chair, which made both Pierre and Father Hagen stand. “I probably can count better than you can.”

  Maud dumbfoundedly pushed herself to her feet. Father Hagen regarded her warmly from his chair.

  As Aurie and Pierre went out the door, Maud sat back down. Her eyes hovered over the bible in front of her. Then they rose to the old man sitting across from her.

  “What is your name?”

  “Maud. Maudeline.”

  Father Hagen nodded. “Do you know where the name ‘Maudeline’ comes from?”

  “No, not really. I think I was named after an aunt, maybe.”

  Father Hagen smiled. “Mary Magdalene. Turn to the Gospel of Luke, chapter eight.”

  “We’ve already gone over the gospels,” Maud hesitated.

  “Oh?” Father Hagen regarded her for a moment. “Then, lucky for me, we can concentrate on today’s lesson and not the entirety of the word of God. Luke, chapter eight, please. And look for your name—sorry, Mary Magdalene.”

  Maud found it. She remembered the passage once she read the first few words. Mary Magdalene and other women were traveling with Jesus. They were helping him, doing things like feeding the needy and…she crinkled her brow. She had missed it the first time. Or, at least, had forgotten.

  “She had seven demons in her,” Maud blinked. “Jesus cured her.”

  “Yes, and the next paragraph is the parable of a farmer sowing seeds,” Father Hagen met her eyes from across the table. “Now, John, chapter twenty.”

  She went to it.

  “Verse eleven,” Father Hagen directed her, watching. “Out loud.”

  Maud read, “But Mary without at the sep-sepulcher—that’s how you spell that?”

  Father Hagen chuckled, “Yes. Keep reading.”

  “…weeping: and she wept, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulcher, and seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. And they say unto her, Woman, why weepest, thou—” Maud’s voice stopped in her throat. Her hands were shaking as she stared down at the words.

  She remembered. That night, that horrible, terrifying night. And the man who grabbed her. The dream, but was it a dream? She couldn’t tell, no matter what Pierre said about it. It felt real. The man who grabbed her, who surrounded her with wings of light.

  Her eyes rose to the knowing grin on Father Hagen’s face.

  “Are you paying attention now?” Father Hagen grinned.

  “Was that—? It was you, wasn’t it?”

  Father Hagen regarded her for a moment. “Maud, I saw what was hunting you. And I saw them retreat back into the Abbey. I didn’t see what caused them to do so, or who. But I did hear you say those words.” He leaned over the table toward her, “You and your mother were chosen for something. Your mother was chosen to join the fight, of that I’m now certain. You, on the other hand, I’m still not sure what your place is in all of this. But this much I know is true; you bear that name as her daughter for a reason.”

  “Because it’s pretty, like I am?” Maud tried to make light.

  Father Hagen blinked at her. “Or because Lilith thinks you can be used as bait against Draka.”

  That made all the color drain from Maud’s face. Now her whole body was shivering enough that she thought the shakes were back.

  He seemed unphased. “Today, I’m going to teach you how to a way to ensure that she can’t do that again without truly fighting for it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to teach you how to make it hurt her to try.”

  Maud could breathe again. The shaking softened.

  “Show me.”