The Masks of Strangers: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 10) by Lina J. Potter

Author:Lina J. Potter [Potter, Lina J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LitHunters Ltd.
Published: 2021-10-04T22:00:00+00:00

***

It was Lily's first night indoors in two months. Was she happy to spend it there?

Not exactly. The hay was prickly and full of nasty dust, and mice kept scraping under the floorboards. Lily tossed and turned throughout the night, but at least there were no bedbugs. In the morning, they continued their journey. Lily gave the farmer a sound blessing and promised to pray for his health in every temple they saw, and the two women once again walked the road.

Turon was still a week away.

Ativerna, Laveri.

As Hans Tremain attended the funeral, he contemplated the triumph of human hypocrisy.

Oh, look at their suffering! Look at the spectacle! Green dresses, green veils, green mourning lace...

Men wore dark green and women light.

In a mint dress, Joliette looked sickly and was seemingly more concerned with that than her husband's demise.

The late duke's eldest son...didn't look especially bereft, mostly making an appropriate show of grief. His wife was rubbing her eyes with a handkerchief—and glancing at Joliette. Apparently, the woman had suffered a lot at the princess' hands; her looks were full of schadenfreude.

The middle son... He really did seem upset. His expression was odd. Had he loved his father or his lavish lifestyle? Who could tell? Yet, he was grieving. His wife was by his side. In contrast, she didn't seem to care about Joliette in the slightest, holding her husband by his elbow and whispering something in his ear. She even found the time to look after their children.

The grandchildren weren't sad. Apparently, the duke hadn't been popular with them. Jerisson had sent Miranda to them, Yda shadowing her every step. That girl had clearly found an idol in Mirrie. Well, that wasn't bad. Let her learn from Miranda, imitate her, behave like her, and with time, she could achieve a lot.

Finally, the youngest son, Stoine Lerois…what was it on his face?

Boredom. Mind-numbing tedium.

Paying his filial duty? Such thoughts never occurred to him! Stoine was clearly yawning into his sleeve, having clearly had an exciting night. And the hickey on his neck... Had it been Joliette who did it?

Hans was watching those two like a hawk, and by Aldonai! Joliette was clearly keeping an eye on her lover and vice versa.

But...they didn't seem like lovers at all. Hans could have sworn that there was something between them, but he was also sure that it wasn't love, not by a long shot. There was no heat.

Simple passion? Even in that case, there must have been looks, glances, gestures, touches... Something!

But there was nothing. Even when Stoine, as the only unmarried member of the family, propped Joliette's elbow, there was no spark between them, not like the spark between Jerisson and Lilian, Ingrid and Leif, or Bran and Angelina. There was only cold.

But he had seen them the night before. What was going on?

Was it all a sham? But body language couldn't lie, not so completely, and Joliette... She might possess perfect control over herself, but not to such extent. It was simply impossible.

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