Aurie found a spot in the shade of the house to sit down. The hanging laundry drifted to the soft breeze. Beyond it, she watched the people moving about at the fort like little ants through a doorframe. The ferryman, too, had found himself a place to sit in the shade, up against the outer wall of stripped logs and spiked timber, to rest. Somehow, from that distance, he could see her and waved to her. Aurie let out a beleaguered sigh. She couldn’t escape them.

  She stood and dusted herself off. Might as well check the garden. Anything to keep her mind from drifting toward…sleep. She had to stay awake, stay busy, stay away from having too much time to think. She didn’t turn toward the wheat field across the road. That would only bring about more of the same. More dread, more pain. She went the other way, around the back of the house. At least there, there wouldn’t be as much that reminded her of Balor or Alden. Apart from it being where they dumped tools, it was always left to itself, to nature and the forest that it was the edge of.

  Her steps slowed when she finally looked up from her feet. A brush of her hair from her face and she found herself gaping. No tools scattered. No plow leaning against a tree. The overgrown brush that practically fenced in the forest between the trees had been cleared. The trees had their lower branches sawed off and three animal carcasses, skinned and draining blood into buckets a single drop at a time, hung from higher branches on hooks. There were flies buzzing around them, but none seemed to land on the meat for some reason, which made her stand there for a moment, staring in wonder. Ropes were used to hold them there, tied to hooks that now adorned the back of the house like the rigging of mill sails.

  Aurie looked back to where she had come, suddenly aware that there were ropes tied to hooks she had been sitting under. She went to look and found herself gaping again. The skins were pulled tight on hooks like what she would use for embroidery, but wider and square so that the skins looked stretched like a spider web. The ropes were tethering to other hooks, keeping them high up on the side of the house, soaking in the sunlight. Aurie shook herself. That barbarian! No wonder her dresses are stained. Those weren’t from normal chores. He had her daughter acting just like he is. A barbarian. A literate barbarian, but still. She scoffed.

  Such an animal. She went back around and looked at the hanging carcasses. Meat. Red meat and plenty of it. And perfectly skinned. A butcher could barely make such good cuts in Alcer and she could see it. Well, at least he is a skilled barbarian.

  As she approached the other end of the house a steaming stench met her nose. Horse droppings. Her eyes narrowed. What else has this barbarian taught her daughter? Bow shooting, horse riding, book reading, animal slaughtering, skin drying, and now what? She stood with her hands planted on her hips at the three piles where the sun hit just at the corner of the shadows from the house and forest, before the wheat field, where she always put the choppings left over from their meals to make compost. Now, there were three mounds, each with that smell.

  She slowly approached them, her head cocked. There was a wheelbarrow that was crusted with the left-over bits of horse droppings with hay packed in it. Each mound was the same mixture, she could tell. Only, aged. One was fresh; all the makings of her normal compost, including the chopped leftovers and hay, but also with horse manure mixed in. Completely mixed, she saw. In fact, there was a pitchfork standing upright in the middle pile, ready to be used to toss and mix it. A fine way to ruin a perfectly good tool. Balor would have rabbits! The second looked much the same as the first, but the third…the third was something she hadn’t seen since the secret garden she and Leta had in Alcer: black soil. Perfectly black.

  She nearly ran to the garden. The fence was repaired. Well, at least that barbarian had common decency to fix the mess his horse had made. But the lavender lining it was nearly as high as the fence and pluming nearly twice as far outward. The perfume of it was stronger than it had been before, fuller. Healthier. In between lines of plumes, at the corner of the fence was a water barrel chest high with brown water and more horse dropping smell. She narrowed her eyes at it. The bucket beside it, looking almost rusted out, was certainly being used for the water that was buzzing with flies. The smell wasn’t stomach churning, not really. It was sweet, in a way that almost made her want to breathe it more, but not get too close.

  Hesitating, she reached for the gate to the garden. Her garden. Balor never did anything with the garden other than what she asked. He never tried to tell her how, never once. This was her garden, her place, her piece of the family that kept everything together. All the herbs, all the vegetables, everything they needed to feed off of, she created there. With Maud’s help, sure, but it was always hers.

  She pulled the gate open and stepped in. Her eyes widened. Everything was…tall. Green. Full. For this time of year, it should all be barely sprouting. She knew when Maud had planted it, she listened to her counting seeds and curse at herself for misplacing the little shovel. She had been proud that her daughter remembered not only when to plant, but actually went out and did it. Now, she was awestruck.

  Mostly.

  Aurie half-frowned, pinching her mouth to one side as she looked it over. It looked so full because the girl planted everything wrong. The tomato bushes were growing outward, not braced to grow up on a stick. They were next to beans that were already wrapping around the tomato bushes that had the unfortunate luck of falling too close to them. The potatoes were growing, sure, but they wouldn’t be ready to eat in time because Maud forgot to build up the mound to cover them as they grew. The rows were, well, rows. Straw was laid between them right, but the smell of that third pile, that sweet yet sickening stench rose to her nose with each step. Her shoes gushed in the black mud. Black mud.

  Aurie went down on one knee, tucking her dress onto the bend of her thigh to keep it from falling into the mud, and scraped a bit into her fingers. She smelled it. The compost, manure, and dirt. Perfectly blended. She brushed it from her hand and straightened. She didn’t rotate the crops, but perhaps she didn’t need to. They were full and healthy. Except the tomatoes. And the sprouts stalks were going to do much the same.

  With an eye to the sun as it rounded the house, she went about correcting what she could. She couldn’t transplant anything. That would make it so they had no chance of a harvest from whatever she moved. But she did unravel the vine from the tomatoes and wrapped it around branches she stuck in the ground beside their roots. She put another branch for the tomatoes, tied them to it with twine, and moved on to form a mound over the potato stems. The cabbages were growing well, since she planted them right on top of the last ones. The carrots, she didn’t even have to dig up to know were planted too close together. Not much of a green thumb, that one. But, at least she tried.

  A horse blowing butterflies from the front of the house made Aurie jolt in surprise. She went to the arch…the arch was nearly unusable from all the thorned rose vines growing wild around and across it. The roses, Aurie found herself mesmerized, were plush and pink. One was as big as her hand when she stretched her fingers and that was only half-bloomed! She shook herself out of her fascinated haze and ducked under them to go to the front of the house.

  The Baron’s Man who had brought three horses now only had one and was standing on her porch. He waved with a smile, pulling his cap off. His beard was trimmed and his hair, though a bit oily still, was cleaner. “Madame Clevlan.”

  “You again?” Aurie slapped as much of the black dirt from her hands as she could before wiping them on the sides of her dress. “What brings you here? Not me, I hope.” If it is, this might become very awkward. I will never apologize to either of them.

  “Well,” he stammered. That dark beard, those youthful eyes. She felt like he reminded her of someone. An old acquaintance, maybe. Someone she knew in Alcer, when she was working as Gerards assistant shoemaker, perhaps. She couldn’t quite place it. “Actually, a few reasons.”

  The front door opened and Maud beamed at him. “Hello.”

  He smiled back at her, barely breathing. “Hello to you.”

  Aurie waited. Maud tucked one side of her cheek behind the door and the man chuckled with an awkward brush of his thick dark hair. Aurie cleared her throat.

  “Right,” the man blinked and straightened. “You are…” He pointed at Maud.

  She giggled a little, “What am I?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake—this is Maud, I’m Aurelie, and why are you on my porch, young man?” Aurie stepped into the doorway between them.

  “Maman!” Maud growled at her, whipping away from the door.

  ‘Really? You’re acting like a child,’ she mouthed to Maud with a glare from behind the door, then turned back to the man on her porch.

  Oh, his face was clean, but by the looks of the rest of him, he was still in need of a bath. His blue and white checkered tabard, with the Fleur-des-Lis in the blue checkers, was smeared in dirt. His chainmail looked tarnished and near to rusting.

  To him, she asked, “Well? The reason you are at the house of two women is?”

  The man blinked at her, dumbfounded. He drew in a deep breath. He was the same height as Balor, though looked a little smaller in the chest and shoulders. Like Draka, she mused, he was probably stronger than he looked. Finally, he said, “I don’t know if she remembers me. She told me to make sure that the Prince…”

  “The reason you’re here is what, post rider? Other than inappropriate.”

  “Ma! Be nice, he was one of the men with Draka in Berone,” Maud rushed to his rescue. She shoved between the door and Aurie so she couldn’t close it on them. “How is he? Will he be back soon? Did you make sure he ate? He often doesn’t eat if you don’t remind him and he gets really mean when he’s hungry, I’m sure you know that. Tell me!”

  “Well, yeah,” He looked to Aurie, apparently needing another rescue. Aurie tucked her chin not to laugh. He stood to look over both of them, “Ah, Administrator—you are actually,” he gave a bewildered look at Maud’s slightly betrayed expression, “who I was looking for.”

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  “Truly?” Pierre stood from the table.

  “If you need the room, you can get all you need out here,” Aurie narrowed her eyes at him.

  Maud pinched her. She was fluttering her eyes at him from over Aurie’s shoulder.

  “Actually, I believe it would be fine, either way. Whichever you prefer. But I am here for both him and,” he wagged a finger at both Aurie and Maud, “You. Convenient, really.” A swallow that was dry enough, she could feel it in her own throat. The poor man was terrified.

  “With your permission, Madame,” he bowed his head to her after taking a step back, clicking his heels.

  Maud bolted upright and Aurie furrowed her brow at him over wide eyes. Why would he do that?

  “Fine,” Aurie stepped back from the doorway, pushing Maud with her. “Come in.”

  “Thank you,” another bow as he stepped in. He went straight to Pierre, digging into his tabard. He had a plate chest piece over his chainmail, hidden by the tabard. He revealed a letter that had a drippy wax seal on it. “From Grande Prince Dietrich. Urgent.”

  “I see,” Pierre broke the seal and opened it.

  “What is it?” Maud rushed to behind his chair so she could see over his shoulder. Pierre’s first instinct was to hide it from her, but something changed his mind and he held it for her to read.

  “Berone is in need of food, apparently. Urgently, by the look of it,” Pierre stood. “Have you already given Captain Gerard his orders?”

  “Yes, I just spoke with him.” The man nodded, his heels back together.

  “Did he already send post for Alcer?” Pierre eyed him. Aurie found herself wondering why. It was such an odd exchange of glances. Distrust.

  “He has not. The horses are being prepared, I understand. Not sure how long before they leave. Morning, most likely. Too late in the day for that ride.”

  “Good, good,” Pierre began putting his books into his pack.

  “And what about me?” Maud nearly leapt to get in front of the man with her hands clasped together. “Anything for m…” The man revealed another letter with a toothy grin. Maud cheered on her way to her bed after snatching it from his hand.

  “I will be back tomorrow to continue your lessons,” Pierre called to Maud, who waved dismissively to him from her bed, her nose in the letter. To Aurie, he nodded and motioned to the man, “This is Ser Karl Druon. He has been assigned to you by the Grande Prince.”

  “I am,” Karl bowed his head to Aurie.

  Aurie crossed her arms. “Great,” she scoffed, “another mouth to feed.” She shook it away and went to begin adding to Maud’s roasting concoction.

  “Don’t worry, I made enough,” Maud called from her bed with a lean. “I thought Pierre was staying.”

  “We’re having Charlotte over tonight, along with the rest of them.” Aurie began looking over the meal.

  “To the rivers we are!” Maud leapt from her bed, shoved Karl nearly into the bedroom door, and pulled Aurie from the hearth. “You invited them?”

  “Yes,” Aurie shrugged.

  “Why?”

  Aurie watched Karl awkwardly step from the bedroom door, looking as if he had gone into some forbidden place. She turned back to Maud, who was glaring with those off-color blue-green eyes she had developed. “Because I was told to.”

  “By who? Gerard? Why are you—you know what? I don’t care. I will burn this house down before letting anyone from across the lake to come in here!”

  Aurie rolled her eyes, “Come off it, Maud, you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try.”

  Aurie stiffened. Her eyes growing wide. She meant it. So, Aurie did. Leaning close to whisper, “God told me to. I can’t say no. I’m sorry.”

  “God?” Maud said loud enough that Karl jumped in his skin.

  Aurie leaned to look at him over Maud’s shoulder, “Feel free to help yourself outside, Ser Karl.”

  “Of course, Madame,” Karl nodded, looking almost relieved as he went out the door.

  The door closed and Aurie lifted Maud’s chin with a curled knuckle, “I don’t know how to explain it, but I hear Him inside, commanding me. And I mean, COMMANDING me.”

  “Who?” She pointed to the door, “Him? Please don’t tell me it’s Gerard.”

  “What happened between you two that you dislike him so much?” Aurie blinked at her. “I mean, I understand if you don’t like him, but this seems more than that. Is it because of what I told you about our past? Honey, that was before you were born.”

  “The village thinks I’m his, Ma,” Maud glowered at her. “And there’s…something about him. I don’t know. So, if not him, then who?”

  “Who? Oh, God,” Aurie tapped Maud’s nose playfully and went back to looking over the food. Maud was right, probably enough for everyone. If everyone came. If anyone, for that matter.

  “Still waiting.”

  “I told you, God is commanding me,” she was bent over the meat. Wow, that smelled good. She wanted to try it, just a piece, but not while Maud was looking. Without straightening, she wagged a finger toward the spices, “Could you get me some of the rosemary, sweety?”

  “Don’t try to distract me and don’t you dare touch my cooking, Aurelie.”

  Aurie straightened and took in a long breath before turning to find Maud standing in front of her with crossed arms and a look that actually made her feel…like a child. Her daughter was making her feel like she had traded places with her and became the daughter. No, that won’t stand, Aurie decided.

  “Ma or Maman. You will not call me by my name until you have a husband and a child of your own. And even then, it had best be when telling them how to spell it on your inheritance as I take my last breath, little girl.”

  “Oh, we had this conversation already,” Maud didn’t back down. “We’re not having it again. My cooking, my way. Your cooking, your way. Don’t touch it. Now, what the rivers are you talking about? God is talking to you? Like, how?”

  “I don’t know,” Aurie shrugged. “In my head.”

  “Oh, no,” Maud let out a long sigh, her lips already trembling.

  “No,” Aurie grabbed her hands and turned her by them with a smile, “I really mean it. He commanded me against her. I. Beat. Lilith. She’s been haunting my dreams, Draka’s too, sometimes both of us together, and I beat her because God was commanding me how to strike, when, where. All at once, and I just did it. Then, today, He commanded me to go into the village because Balthazar and the others had been calling us whores and I got to beat him up, too. Oh, and I’m pretty sure I broke Balian’s hand. He has a lot more than us to apologize for, trust you me.”

  “Wait, wait,” Maud tried again and again to break her rant, but finally did by stomping her foot and yelling, “Ma!”

  Aurie’s mouth shut. Her eyes widened. She didn’t know how Maud would react to all of it, it just kept pouring out of her because who else would she tell? They’d think she had lost her mind, but Maud would know better, wouldn’t she? She believed, she had faith, how could she not?

  Maud looked her over. Studied her. “Turn your eyes. Okay, hold out your arms,” Aurie did what she asked. Maud circled around her. “Uh-huh. I read something about this in the Old Testament, I think.”

  “You did,” Aurie turned to look.

  “Keep them up, I have to see,” Maud tugged here and there on her dress, as if she were inspecting her. “Okay, lift one leg.”

  Her toes were nearly lifted from the ground before she noticed Maud trying to muffle her laughter. “Now, listen here, you little shit,” she let her arms drop. “I’m serious.”

  “You’re probably a Paladin, like Draka. They hear God commanding them, too. What does the Almighty want us to do?”

  Aurie blinked. That was a lot simpler than she expected it to be. “Eli has a cough. God commanded them to bring him here at sundown.”

  Maud sat back on her bed and returned to reading her letter, “Looks like they don’t believe you.”

  Aurie looked at the garden window and frowned at how dark it was. “They’re not coming.” She sank where she stood. The boy could die. She looked up to the ceiling. She was still uncertain how she was supposed to go about it, since she heard the voice as clearly as she could hear Maud, but she said toward it, “I don’t think they’re going to do it. What should I do?”

  Maud lowered the letter from covering her face with a furrowed brow. As she watched, Aurie nodded with a long sigh before going into her bedroom.

  Maud looked up to the ceiling, to the Almighty, with a crooked brow, “Really? Both of them?”

  Aurie emerged from the bedroom in a different dress. She stopped in the middle of the room, “How do I look?”

  “Like God made you,” Maud nodded.

  Aurie shot her a glare. “Am I presentable, at least? I’m going into the village.”

  “Not alone, you’re not!”