The Blight of Muirwood
Page 60

 Jeff Wheeler

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Lia reached the edge of the tub, saw her shirt hanging by a peg on the changing screen, as well as the girdle. Ellowyn scrubbed thoroughly at one of her bracers. “If I had a fortune, the Earl of Dieyre would wish to marry me. He is so handsome. But I do not have a fortune. Yet. Nor good looks. The Pry-rians want me regardless. Some ancient family speaking a language that would bewilder me so I could produce an heir and restore their former glory.” She scrubbed a little furiously at a particularly muddy spot. “A vessel. That is all that I am to them. Like that water dish to rinse your hair.”
Lia saw Ellowyn in a new way and it startled her a little. “You almost sound resentful of your new life,” she said.
“Resentful? No…I am terrified, Lia. I have felt nothing but sheer terror since I left Sempringfall Abbey. I miss it dreadfully.” She squinted at the dark leather and scratched out a stain with her fingernail. “Imagine being plucked from your home, then shuttled forth from place to place, Abbey to Abbey. Learn this. Say that. Eat this way. Do not laugh like that. It is not proper. What is taking you so long? We learned that word yesterday, you still have not learned it?” Her face twisted into a scowl. “Never a moment to myself. Never a moment to say what I really feel. Except moments like now.”
“I do not even know you,” Lia hedged.
“I do not care. If I do not talk, I will burst. This is how we would work at my Abbey. Work and whisper amongst ourselves. Talk about the boys and which ones liked us and which ones we scorned. I miss that. I miss it dreadfully. Marciana does not understand me. Colvin does not understand me. But you do. How I am jealous of you and Sowe.” She kept working, her scrubbing motions looking almost desperate. “There, this is looking much better, I think. I would trade these dirty clothes of yours for mine in a moment. I do not belong in their world. The Leerings mock me. Truly, they do. The Medium will not hearken to me, no matter how I plead with it. No matter that my parents were both skilled. I cannot do it because I am terrified. Every day, I worry that someone is going to try and take me. To force me to do something I do not want to do. To marry someone I do not know just to bear their child. And that in my fear, I will let them. I will do whatever I am asked, because I am supposed to. Not because I want to.” She winced, gnawing on her thumb a moment, then put down the bracer and seized the other one. She looked sidelong at Lia. “So…you love him too?”
There was a double-meaning in her words. “You care for him, Ellowyn?” she asked.
The other girl smiled sadly, scrubbing with zest. “How can I not, Lia? He is so different than other men. He never says more than he feels. He is thoughtful and wise for someone so young. He is never rude or conceited. I remember when he and Edmon first arrived at Sempringfall. You should have seen the gaggle of us at the laundry after they rode in. Most of the girls thought Edmon the prettiest boy they had ever seen, but he did not catch my fancy. It was the Earl of Forshee – so stern and poised. A dark beauty. He fears nothing. Absolutely nothing. I fear everything unless he is near me.”
Lia sat by the tub, listening closely. She knew what Colvin feared. She knew so many of his inner secrets, his qualms.
“I was elbow-deep in suds…just like now…when he came with the Aldermaston. My name was Hillel Lavender. Did you know that? There was Colvin and the Aldermaston together. He was looking at us and it was quiet, except a few nervous giggles. Before the Aldermaston said my name, he looked at me. His eyes – how do you describe them? Like smoke and sky together, I thought. He was frowning slightly, as he often does. But his eyes just burned into mine, as if he knew who I was. The Aldermaston spoke my name and beckoned me. You can imagine the jealousy and the whispers when we left. In the Aldermaston’s study, Colvin told me my true name. Ellowyn not Hillel. The Aldermaston warned what would happen if I left the Abbey. He said the old king had sworn the raze the Abbey if I was revealed in any way.” She looked sidelong at Lia. “It is a guilt that I carry. And a fear. What would I do if they burned the Abbey…because of me? Colvin swore an oath he would protect me and that my uncle’s knights would protect the Sempringfall. I swear I fell in love with him as he spoke those words. That he would guard my life with his own.”
Lia swallowed thickly. You are right, though. He does not love you, she wanted to say, but she could not bring herself to utter it.
“Though I am afraid, I feel calm when he is near. He has tried to help me learn how to summon the Medium, but in truth, it is even harder to try when he is near me for I cannot concentrate. I keep staring at his mouth, his hands, his eyes. He speaks so passionately, I want to succeed just to please him. But he has never once uttered a breath that he cares about me. He will ask if I am thirsty. Or tired. Or if my stomach ails me. But he does not confide in me, as he does with Ciana. Or you.” The last was added with a hint of bitterness. “I wish I could be as outspoken as you, Lia. You never fear to say what you are thinking. It serves you well. I always fear I will be misunderstood, so I say not much at all.”