The Salbine Sisters (3 page)

“Mistress Lillian!”

“Yes.” And they hadn’t stopped at one kiss. The lesson, the training room, everything had faded away as they’d melted into each other. They’d briefly come to their senses when they’d started to unbutton their robes and remembered where they were. “We ended up in my bedchamber, and that’s where we’ve ended up after every lesson since.”

“Mistress Lillian?”

“Will you stop saying that, please?”

“Sorry,” Rose murmured. “You’ve certainly kept it quiet.”

“As I said, I wasn’t sure what the mistress wanted.”

“You, obviously.” Rose grinned, then yelped when Maddy playfully slapped her arm. “Though are you sure you’re not part of some experiment?”

She hoped not.

“I didn’t think Mistress Lillian had,” Rose lowered her voice, “those sorts of needs.”

Maddy could personally vouch that she did.

“But she does like to do experiments, or so I’ve heard,” Rose added.

“Maybe she does.” She’d heard the same, and wished she could hear it from Lillian herself. “But I’m not part of an experiment.”

Rose grunted, looking unconvinced. “What do you think will happen, now that everyone knows?”

“I don’t know.” She paused. “I hope she’ll still see me.”

Rose stopped and faced her. “You like her! As more than a friend, I mean.”

Maddy nodded. “But I don’t know how she feels.” She bit her lip. “Do you think I’m foolish?”

“No. You can’t control who you like in that way.”

“Oh, so if I could control it, then you’d think I’m foolish,” Maddy said ruefully.

“I didn’t say that,” Rose said with a laugh, slipping her arm through Maddy’s again. “I just hope the mistress likes you in the same way you like her.”

She fervently hoped so, too. Her next lesson should be interesting—though it could turn out to be disappointing and humiliating if Lillian made it clear that she’d return to her own chambers when it finished.

Rose frowned. “We’ll be a bit early if we go to the chapel now.”

“Let’s go to my chambers so I can empty my pockets.”

“Tell me about what happened with Merrin,” Rose said as they wandered toward the Initiates Tower. “I wish I’d been there.”

“Somehow he got past the defenders at the—”

“Maddy, look!”

She followed Rose’s gaze, and her breath caught in her throat. Lillian stood near the Initiates Tower’s main entrance. When they approached her, she crooked a finger. “Sister Maddy, a word, please.”

“I’ll see you at chapel.” Rose let go of Maddy’s arm and bobbed a curtsey to Lillian. “Mistress.”

“Yes, run along, Sister—um . . .” Lillian screwed up her face. “Rose! Yes, Sister Rose.”

With an amused smirk, Rose strolled away.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Lillian said as soon as Rose was out of earshot. “I should have waited until your next lesson. We can talk then.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Maddy said quickly. Waiting until her lesson would be excruciating. “We were just on our way to my chambers, so I can empty my pockets before morning prayers.”

Lillian looked down at Maddy’s bulging pockets. “Oh.”

“What would you like to talk to me about?” Maddy asked, hoping Lillian wouldn’t rush off.

“Talk . . . Yes, talk.” Lillian scratched her head. “Let’s go in. I don’t want to be interrupted.” Without waiting for a reply, she pushed open the door and disappeared inside.

Maddy followed, in time to see Lillian knock on one of the first floor study room doors and open it a crack. She closed it and moved on to the next one. “In here,” she said, waving Maddy inside. She shut the door behind Maddy. They remained standing, ignoring the four chairs around a square table. Lillian stared at Maddy and gulped.

“Was the abbess upset about Merrin?” Maddy asked, then kicked herself. She wasn’t supposed to know about Lillian seeing the abbess.

“No,” Lillian said. “Well, not really.”

“Good.”

“She wanted to know who I was with last night.”

Maddy’s heart sank. “Oh.”

“Talking to the abbess helped clarify things for me. About you.”

No wonder Lillian seemed nervous. Telling someone you’d no longer share her bed was never easy, regardless of how much or little you cared for her. Maddy braced herself.

“I realized . . .” Lillian swallowed. “I realized that I’d like to know more about you, more than how well you draw fire and . . . and how you like to be touched. I’d like to spend time with you outside your bedchamber.” She crossed her arms against her chest and gripped her robe. “But that’s probably not what you want. And that’s all right. I understand.” She turned to the door. “I won’t keep you.”

“Wait! Please don’t go, Lillian. I want the same thing you do,” Maddy blurted, elated.

Lillian became very still. “You do?”

“Yes, very much. I’ve wanted to ask to see you, but I didn’t know if that’s what you want.” She longed to touch Lillian, but Lillian’s posture dissuaded her.

“It is,” Lillian said, turning to Maddy and slowly lowering her arms.

They stared at each other. “Would you like to meet tonight, after evening prayers?” Maddy asked, sensing that Lillian’s nerve had run its course. She’d already learned that a shy woman hid beneath the bluster.

“Yes, I would.” Lillian’s face fell. “Oh, but I have to go to my laboratory, to prepare something for Mistress Meredith. I’d do it earlier, but I’m helping Thomas all day. It has to be tonight. She needs it.”

So the laboratory did exist. But what would Mistress Meredith want with poison? “Would you like company?”

Lillian hesitated, then nodded.

“Where is it?”

“What?”

“Your laboratory.”

“Oh. Why don’t you meet me outside the chapel after the service?”

“All right.”

Lillian cleared her throat. “Well, then.” She looked down at Maddy’s pockets. “What’s in your pockets?”

“Nuts.”

“Nuts?” Lillian’s brow furrowed. “All for you?”

The morning prayer bell sounded. Maddy couldn’t resist the urge to touch Lillian any longer. She took Lillian’s hand and rubbed her thumb along the red markings on its back, markings that matched those on her own hands. Warmth flooded through her when she felt Lillian’s fingers curl around hers. “No, not for me. I’ll tell you later.”

Lillian nodded and squeezed Maddy’s hand. “Later, then.” She turned to leave the room, but not before Maddy caught her smile.

M
addy followed Rose to the chapel’s leftmost aisle, resisting the urge to glance at the bench where Lillian usually sat. She was already disappointed with herself for staring at Lillian’s back throughout the service, instead of focusing during prayers.

Rose gripped her arm as they entered the chapel’s vestibule. “You all right?” she asked.

“Just a little nervous,” Maddy admitted, feeling excited, sick, and silly. She’d lain with Lillian numerous times over the past several weeks, so the prospect of holding an extended conversation with the woman shouldn’t petrify her.

Outside, she pulled Rose over to one of the torches lighting the path, to make it easier for Lillian to spot her. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she murmured.

“I thought it’s what you want,” Rose said.

“It is. But—”

“She’s coming,” Rose hissed. “Good luck! I want to hear all about it later—or maybe tomorrow,” she said with a glint in her eye.

Maddy turned as Rose hurried off, and took a deep breath, trying to look at ease.

“Come with me,” Lillian said, briefly meeting Maddy’s eyes but not breaking stride. “Lovely night, isn’t it?” she said when Maddy fell into step with her. “Though it feels like rain is on the way.”

“Yes,” Maddy said, “though I hope it stays away. Tomorrow’s market day.”

Lillian glanced at her. “You go to the market?”

She nodded. Every two weeks she wound her way down the hill to Merrin’s market after morning prayers with a group of sisters and defenders, and several mules. She didn’t actually trade for any goods; the defenders did all the haggling for the herbs, textiles, glass, and other items the monastery required. They didn’t have to go every two weeks, especially since the monastery cultivated its own crops, had plentiful stores, and tradesmen devoted to Salbine lived within its walls. But while the defenders honed their bargaining skills, the sisters mingled with the townsfolk and noted their concerns, particularly those for which they could offer help or that might spell trouble for the monastery. Maddy loved to wander among the stalls with their brightly-coloured awnings, listening to the peddlers shouting enticements to browse their wares, ruffling the hair of the wide-eyed children who bobbed before her, and offering an encouraging word or a promise of aid to those who approached her and confided their worries.

“You’ve never come with us,” she said to Lillian at the same time she realized it. On average, about ten sisters visited the market. Six, like Maddy, were regulars; the rest tagged along so they could personally choose an item, or to spend a day outside the monastery.

Lillian shrugged. “The defenders always know what I want. No need for me to go myself.”

“Don’t you ever feel like a day out?”

“Not to the market, no.”

“Where would you go?”

“Somewhere quiet,” Lillian said with a hint of exasperation.

Not wanting to annoy Lillian further, Maddy dropped the subject and resolved to remain silent until Lillian next spoke. She looked along the line of burning torches lighting the path, and realized it led to the library. She’d thought they were going to Lillian’s laboratory. She was about to ask where they were going when Lillian cut in front of her and turned onto a dark path. Maddy leaned over to take an unlit torch from the bucket standing near the path, but then a ball of fire appeared in Lillian’s left hand. Lillian made it look so effortless; Maddy hadn’t even sensed her draw fire. Perhaps the more capable the mage, the less “noisy” the drawing, and nobody was more capable than Lillian.

Not wanting to offend her, Maddy left the torch and fell into step with her again. The fire burning an inch above Lillian’s hand threw only enough light to see a foot or two ahead. They walked in silence, the rustling of their robes and their footsteps sounding unnaturally loud. “Your laboratory is in the catacombs?” Maddy blurted when she remembered where this path led.

“Yes,” Lillian said. “All the laboratories are. Nobody there cares when you brew a noxious potion or have a little accident.”

“Accident?” she asked in a shriller voice than she would have liked.

“Working out a formula involves trial and error, Maddy. Some errors are . . . er, more spectacular than others.”

She swallowed. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t be brewing anything tonight.”

“What does Mistress Meredith need?” Maddy asked, wondering again what Mistress Meredith would want with poison.

“That’s Mistress Meredith’s affair,” Lillian said.

Maddy made a mental note to be more careful around Mistress Meredith from now on. She refocused on her surroundings, squinting at two torches flickering in the gloom ahead.

Once again, Lillian ignored the bucket of torches standing at the catacomb’s entrance. She descended the stone steps, pushed open the door, and led Maddy down more steps to a lower passage. Maddy resisted the urge to grab the back of Lillian’s robe so she wouldn’t lose her only light source. Her heart pounded as she imagined herself wandering the maze of passages in the dark, hopelessly lost, her cries falling on the deaf ears of long-dead sisters. She wasn’t claustrophobic, but the narrow passage and the shadows dancing on its walls unsettled her.

“Why didn’t you take one of the torches?” Lillian asked when Maddy, determined to stay right behind Lillian, bumped into her.

“Because you’re lighting the way,” Maddy said. “And I didn’t think you wanted me to,” she added faintly.

She was close enough to feel as well as hear Lillian’s chuckle. “Well, we’re almost there,” was all Lillian said. A minute later, she stopped in front of a door and pulled an iron key from her robe pocket. “I need both hands for this,” she murmured. The ball of fire disappeared, plunging them into darkness. “Why don’t you try holding fire? It’s not much different than lighting a candle. You want to focus on the point just above your hand.”

“What do you do when you’re alone?” Maddy asked, her insides fluttering. What if the fire touched her hand? What if she couldn’t do it?

“I stick the torch in the sconce next to the door,” Lillian said.

So Lillian normally used a torch? She’d been showing off! Elation chased away Maddy’s nervousness. She wanted to kiss Lillian, but since she couldn’t see her, she’d probably end up planting one on her nose or an eyebrow.

“A ball of fire, please,” Lillian ordered.

“All right.” Maddy closed her eyes, turned inward, and reached for Salbine’s raging fire. She could sense it, feel it, smell it, but she couldn’t draw it, no matter how hard she tried. Frustration threatened her concentration. She felt the same way she did when a word on the tip of her tongue eluded her. Fire swirled around her, taunting her; why wouldn’t fire flow
through
her? Her hands clenched; her lips compressed.
Salbine, aid me, I beseech You!

She felt light-headed and reached out to steady herself. Her fingers collided with stone; she gasped, then doubled over when pain stabbed through her.

A steadying hand touched her elbow. “Are you all right?” Lillian asked.

Maddy lifted her head. Lillian’s concerned face swam before her, illuminated by the fire that once again flickered above her hand. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered, then grimaced as a wave of nausea washed over her.

“Let me take you back to your chambers.”

“No! I tried too hard, that’s all.”

Lillian’s brows drew together. “Are you sure? Because I didn’t sense anything.”

“I’m sure!” she snapped. “I must be doing something wrong. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Lillian let go of Maddy’s elbow. “I shouldn’t have asked you to try something new, not tonight. Because . . . well, we’re not here as tutor and pupil, are we?”