Shadow by Jenny Moss

Author:Jenny Moss [Jenny Moss ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780545283236
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I sat up, confused. Where was I?

Straw poked my bare legs and through my shift, making me think I was on my pallet in the castle, sleeping by the queen’s bed. But the earthy scent of animals and wild grass clung to the ice-cold wind blowing through the window—smells I was not accustomed to. I pulled my blanket up around me.

Ingen was beside me on the mat we shared. The twins and Sir Kenway slept on another mat on one side of us, and Tayte and Stillman slept on the other side.

Rowe turned over, his red hair bright in the moonlight. One closed hand rested by his mouth. So sweet he looked. I lightly touched his cheek, but then drew back, remembering another boy. I felt Piers strong in my heart.

“Audrey!” Sir Kenway cried out. “No!”

I could see him in the moonlight, closest to the wall. He tossed his head back and forth, moaning. I rolled the twins gently to the edge of their mat. Sir Kenway was hot to the touch. I glanced at Tayte, snoring on the other pallet, her hand flung across her husband’s stomach. She looked so peaceful after her long day’s work. I didn’t want to wake her.

Shivering, I immersed a rag in a bucket of cold water and dabbed Sir Kenway’s forehead. “Shhh. It is all right.”

He stilled my hand with a grip so fierce it hurt, but looked at me with unseeing eyes. “I let her die.”

He was out of his mind. “You did not.”

He asked for things. Can I have a cool drink? I dipped water from the pail and put the cup to his lips. He pushed it away, splashing it on himself, gasping at the water’s coldness. Can I have a roll, warm and fresh? I gave him all I had, stale bread, but he spit it out.

He thrashed about, throwing off his blanket. I put it back, dabbed his face, and waited. When he relaxed, I closed my eyes again. Over and over, we did this. Finally, he lay still and fell into a deep sleep. Exhausted, I did the same.

But darkness haunted my dreams. I kept waking, not able to remember my nightmares, but thinking of Piers.

In the morning, Tayte tended to Sir Kenway, applying the sweet-smelling ointment, giving him fresh bandages, feeding him a yarrow broth.

I sat watching him. His mouth was relaxed. His cheeks, pink again. He seemed past his pain. He wouldn’t be pleased to know he had slept on a straw pallet, nursed by a peasant woman. I wondered what he would say when he discovered it.

When Tayte’s back was turned, I pushed his hair off his forehead and ran my fingers lightly along his face. I traced his lips and then my own and shivered as if we’d kissed. Longing swept through me. I wanted him to wake and touch me as gently as I touched him. That desire was so sharp, and so unrequited, hot tears popped into my eyes. I wiped them away, feeling foolish at my emotion.

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