court. She wondered if he would be pleased instead of feeling merely relieved she wasn’t someone else.
Lilli did however spot Lady Bevyan, standing by the royal table with two of Queen Abrwnna’s serving women. Smiling, Lilli trotted down the steps and made her way over to her foster-mother, who greeted her by holding out one arm. Lilli slipped into that familiar embrace with a comfortable sigh. With nods and farewells, the serving women drifted away.
“My, you look pleased!” Bevyan said. “The talk with your mother wasn’t as bad as all that, then.”
“It wasn’t. They’ve settled my betrothal, and it’s not to one of Uncle Tibryn’s awful vassals.”
“Good! I was afraid they’d be considering Nantyn.”
“They were, but Uncle Burcan spoke up for me. It was such an odd thing, Bevva! He even offered to cede Nantyn some land somewhere if Uncle Tibryn wanted to give the old sot that instead of me.”
“Well, may our Goddess bless him for it!” Bevyan’s voice sounded oddly wary. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d do such a thing, Burcan, that is.”
“But he did, and now I’ll be marrying Braemys, my cousin, you know?”
Bevyan’s arm tightened fast and sharp around her shoulders, then released her. Lilli stepped away and looked at her foster-mother, whose face had gone as bland as her uncle’s had, a few minutes before.
“Is somewhat wrong with him?” Lilli said.
“Not in the least. A decent young man and quite well-spoken, he is.” Her voice wavered ever so slightly. “Well. I’ll wager you’re glad to have it settled, dear.”
“I am, truly. And this way I’ll be staying at court, and I’ll still be able to see you, now and again.”
“Just so, and that will be lovely.”
But the distant look in Bevva’s eyes—it was fear, Lilli realized suddenly—bespoke thoughts that were far from lovely. She hovered, wondering what could be so wrong, until Bevyan broke the mood with a little laugh.
“It’s so noisy here,” Bevva said. “Shall we go up to my chambers? Sarra will want to hear all about your betrothal.”
With that, both Bevyan and the evening returned to their normal selves. Up in Bevva’s suite various court ladies joined them for a long gossip. Lilli felt like a cat lying down for a good nap by a fire, all safe and warm at last. Here in the company of other women she could forget, for at least a little while, the black ink and its secrets.
In the morning Bevyan’s suspicions woke with her. While she dressed, they seemed to sit on the edge of her bed, muttering in low voices, “Could it be? Could it really be?” One never knew what Merodda might be thinking; she did, after all, lie as easily as a bard sang. Finally she could stand it no longer and went to Merodda’s chambers, just to hear what she could hear, she told herself, just to prove herself wrong. When Merodda’s maidservant let Bevyan in, she found the lady washing her face. In the corner of her bedroom stood a crockery basin on a wooden stand. Dressed in a plain white shift, Merodda was dabbling a thin cloth in strange-smelling water.
“I’ll be with you in a moment, Bevyan. I shan’t be able to talk while I’m doing this.”
“Of course. I’m in no hurry. Is it an herb bath, dear?”
Merodda gave her a brief smile for her only answer, then wrung out her cloth and began wiping her face with it. Every now and then she’d dip a corner of the rag back in the basin, but Bevyan noticed that she never let it get too wet and that she kept her lips tightly closed the while. No doubt the stuff tasted as bad as it smelled. When she finished, she laid the cloth at her windowsill to dry, then rinsed her hands with clean water from a crockery pitcher that stood on the floor.
“Now then,” Merodda said. “What did you wish to speak with me about?”
“Lilli told me about her betrothal last night.”
“Ah, did she? What do you think of Braemys?”
“He’s a very decent lad. A bit close kin,