Nobody's Lady (18 page)

Roslyn regarded her sister for a moment, and Marden simply shrugged and looked pointedly away. “But I can’t deal with Darwyn,” said Roslyn. “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. I promise you.” I moved around the table and held my hand out to Roslyn. “But if you want someone to hate, hate the first goddess, not him. She caused all this to happen in the first place. She didn’t really think things through.”

Roslyn studied me, and I wondered what kind of pain was written on my face. Perhaps some part of me wanted to give it all away, to tell them who I was really blaming. But then Roslyn took my hand and stood up slowly. “If you really think they’ll take me back.”

Mother smiled and nodded, encouraging me to continue.

“I
know
they will,” I said, squeezing Roslyn’s hand. “And if working there makes
you
happy, the rest will follow.”

Roslyn smiled and squeezed back.

It was getting dark by the time Roslyn and I reached the middle of the village, and people were shuffling out of their shops to light the torches that illuminated their doorways. Roslyn looked happier than any woman had ever looked on her Returning day. She looked happier than I’d ever seen her with Darwyn—although, to tell the truth, I’d hardly paid attention in those days. Darwyn’s mother burst into tears and embraced Roslyn the moment the request to move back in and keep working at the bakery was out of her mouth.

“My sweet girl, you dearest!” Darwyn’s mother kissed her atop her head over and over. “You’ll always be a daughter to me. You don’t even have to ask.”

The next half hour was filled with both women laughing and crying, and Mistress Baker assuring Roslyn she was doing her the greater favor, and Roslyn insisting the opposite. Finally they both just agreed to disagree and continue to think they owed each other everything. If it weren’t for what I wanted to ask Roslyn, I might have left, leaving the two women to have their endless moment.

Now all that was left was for Roslyn to work one last shift at the tavern and tell Vena and Elweard she was moving on. And to tell Darwyn she was moving in. Just not into the room they’d shared.

“You really don’t think Darwyn will mind?” Roslyn’s ecstasy was interrupted every few moments with a wrinkled brow as she kept asking the same question over and over.

“No, I don’t.”

“I mean, it’ll be awkward for me regardless. But I
know
he’s moved on. And baking will keep me busy.” She cocked her head. “It might actually go smoother without having to tell him to do one task after another. I always thought he kind of got underfoot when he was my husband. I’m not like some women. I don’t need kisses every few seconds to keep me going.” She nodded and kept walking, jauntily placing one foot in front of the other. I decided not to let my curiosity about which women she might have meant distract me.

I grabbed her arm gently. “Roslyn.”

She hugged me before I could stop her. “Oh,
thank you
, Olivière!”

I felt my cheeks burn and my throat grow dry, both at the hug and the sound of the name only one person still called me. “Noll,” I corrected. I patted her gently on the back, not used to embracing other women my age. Other than Elfriede, that is, and we were out of practice.

Roslyn laughed and pulled back. “Of course! I know. Sorry. I just think your full name is so pretty. And it’s a very pretty evening, isn’t it?” She turned on her heel and started walking back toward the tavern.

“Wait!” I called, jogging a few steps to catch up to her. “Before you go in, can I ask you something?”

Roslyn still seemed to be floating in her bliss, her smile only faltering slightly when a man’s shoulder shoved against her back as he went ahead to enter the tavern. “Is this about Friede?”

“No.” I opened my mouth to speak again, only to feel a lump forming in my throat at the way Roslyn’s face fell. “Is there something I should know about Elfriede?”

Roslyn threaded her fingers together. “She’s not happy.”

“I know that.” I took a deep breath. “She’s far from the only one.”

This time it was my turn to be jostled from behind as another group of men found their way into the tavern. “Hello, sweetheart!” one called out to Roslyn. His smile and wink reminded me distastefully of the men who’d spurred me to start this whole mess long ago.

Roslyn waved halfheartedly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shrugging at me. “I definitely won’t miss all the attention from the tavern.”

I nodded. I wasn’t going to be distracted again. “The other night, when I visited Jaron’s room—”

“He’s just a friend. I don’t like him the way the other girls do. I wasn’t seeing him or anything.”

I gripped the coin in my sash with my poultice-free hand, resisting the temptation to cut her off with my hand over her lips. “I just want to know what happened between them and the spec—the lord’s servant.”

Roslyn cocked her head, her joy completely erased by bewilderment. “The lord’s servant? He usually sends one or two a night to collect ale and wine.”

I wondered what a man who’d reduced his bread intake to skip the appearances of feeding a hundred still had to do with daily shipments of alcohol. And ale as well as wine. I shook my head. “But why was one in Jaron’s room then?”

Roslyn hugged her arm against her side. “I don’t know. They don’t speak, you know?”

“I know.”

She looked over her shoulder at the tavern door, as if eager to step away from the conversation. Instead, she turned back and kept her voice low. “But Jaron seemed to know he wanted something. He teased him and told him to join them for some food and ale, but the lord’s servant didn’t budge from right inside the doorway.” She covered her mouth and sneezed, and I just about shouted out in frustration at the delay. She sniffed. “He stood there for a quarter of an hour. It made for an awkward meal. Then Jaron told the servant he could either take ‘it’ himself or stand there all night, but he wasn’t about to hand ‘it’ over ‘just because some wide-eyed vacant man stood there staring at him.’ And then the servant left.”

So Roslyn didn’t know anything about the page with the moving drawing. “Does the servant often stop by Jaron’s room when he comes to the tavern?”

“I don’t know. I don’t spend all my breaks up there, but Vena said it’d be quieter than it was on the ground floor, so I kind of got used to it.” She looked over her shoulder again. “I should really go tell Vena this will be my last night.” She turned on her heel and then stopped. “Do you mind breaking the news to Darwyn for me?”

I let go of the coin in my sash. “That you’re moving back in?”

Roslyn nodded.

“I can go with you to tell him if you like, but it really should come from you.”

Roslyn put her hand on my shoulder. “Great, thank you! I’ll be upstairs after I talk with Vena. You can just ease him into it.”

She was gone inside the tavern before I could say anything more. I squeezed my fists together, almost forgetting about the slight jab of pain it would cause in my poultice-covered fingertip.
She’s given you an excuse to talk to them again. Just take it.

I pulled open the door. The tavern was as crowded as it had been the other night, and I wondered why setting men free from the curse of love meant they all felt the need to gravitate toward more ale than was good for them.
Don’t any of them eat at home with their wives anymore? Do any of them
have
wives anymore?

I caught sight of Roslyn leaning over the counter, talking to Vena and Elweard as they scrambled to fill up mugs. Vena’s mouth was slightly puckered, and Elweard nodded solemnly. I hoped Roslyn left my name out of it.

I slid between two tables to reach the staircase, stretching my hand out to grab hold of the railing like it was the ledge of a cliff in the suffocating noise and warmth of the crowded tavern.

“Noll?”

If I hadn’t been half expecting to see another specter or a half-naked friend, I might have jumped more at the sound of someone calling my name. As it was, it wasn’t the presence that startled me, but the identity of the person who’d spoken. “Father?”

His eyes were glazed, his cheeks slightly darker than they ought to have been. But then again, my memories of him anything but flushed with ale were starting to fade. I’d been home so seldom after Mother returned, and it didn’t look like being reunited with her was improving his health, now that there was nothing left to tie them together but history and two daughters.

Father stumbled a little and on reflex, I reached out to catch him. He threw a hand out to stop me and caught himself on the rail, slapping his feet down the last two stairs. “They say you won’t help.”

I pulled my arms back. “Won’t help?”

“Jaron said he and the others might be close to getting some answers, but they need your help.” He brushed his face with his forearm as if to clear his eyes of the cloudiness. “But you wouldn’t help them. Just like you wouldn’t help me.”

The laughter in the tavern grew louder, buzzing in my ears. “Help you? I did nothing but help you in all the time Mother was at the castle.”

Father let go of the railing and pointed at me. “You and that castle. You won’t have anything to do with that castle. No matter how many people must suffer for it.”

He was wrong. I’d
gone
there. Even though I hadn’t wanted to, I’d done it for him and Mother and Elfriede. But it wasn’t enough for him. It never was. I backed up as much as I could to get out of the way of his trembling finger, but there wasn’t enough space to move. “What’s this about, Father?”

There were tears welling around his dark, lifeless irises. “I don’t love her anymore.” He wiped his nose with his wrist and hiccupped. “And I don’t like it.”

Although I half expected it, my stomach clenched at his admission. “If you don’t like it, then change it.
Choose
to love Mother.” I reached back to grab the railing, tapping my fingers atop it.

“I don’t know how.” Father took a deep breath and clutched his shirt. “I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. Like wanting to be alone, but feeling anger at the idea of her with someone else. Like having this
hole
in my chest and not knowing how to fill it.” He stared at me accusingly. “But
he
might have the answers. And you won’t get them from him.”

He hobbled off, almost tumbling against a man seated at a nearby table. The man laughed. “Little too much to drink, hey, Master Carver?” He turned back to his companions, chuckling away. Father kept walking, undisturbed, vanishing into a crowd of men and mugs and plates.

I watched him pityingly, then squared my shoulders and walked up the stairs. I had enough to think about without Father blaming me for his problems. That wasn’t anything new anyway.

I paused in front of the door to Jaron’s room, about to knock. I couldn’t think of what I wanted to say, if I should go in on the pretense of speaking with Darwyn, or if I should just come out and ask what they wanted from me.

The door creaked open at my knock. I poked my head in, but there was no fire roaring, no man in sight.

“Hello? Jaron? Darwyn? Sindri?”

The room was a mess, with plates scattered on the ground and clothing and bed sheets tossed about like someone had been looking for something in a hurry. I noticed the box in which Jaron kept the page open and upside down atop the bed.

“Hello?”
Maybe someone found something in a hurry.

I took a step into the room and felt a pair of arms embrace me from behind, pulling me roughly backward into the hallway.

My assailant wanted to drag me into the neighboring room, but I reached out for the doorframe and pulled hard, kicking back at his shins. “Let me—”

A hand covered my mouth, even as he muttered, “Ow. Noll, it’s me. Be quiet and come in here.”

I let go of the doorframe and stomped my foot. Jurij tugged me inside by the elbow and closed the door behind us. The room resembled Jaron’s, only there was a fire roaring and the room wasn’t torn to pieces. I tapped my foot. “Well?”

Jurij put a finger in front of his lips as he shook one of his legs. Probably the one I’d kicked. He walked over to the table and pointed to a piece of paper.
The
piece of paper. My good hand trembled as I stepped forward, leaning on the table for support. The drawings were moving, little Luuk walking in place—or that’s what it seemed at first. The trees in the background kept disappearing off the edge, and I realized he was walking forward.