Spindle and Dagger by J. Anderson Coats

Author:J. Anderson Coats [Coats, J. Anderson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781536211788
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2020-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

ON MY FIRST DAY OF EXILE, I AWAKEN TO A BASIN OF fresh water by the bed and Órlaith scratching at the curtain and whispering, “I can help with your hair and dress?”

The hem of my gown has been scraped clean of mud and spot-scrubbed so it’s bluer than ever, and someone hung it on the garment rod so nothing chewed it up during the night.

“You’ll be all right, sweeting?” Owain is struggling into his tunic. “I’m off to find Einion and Rhys, for I cannot bear to spend — rot it to hell.”

Niall stands outside the door that opens to the courtyard, trying not to look in too purposefully or intently. I gather he’s been waiting on Owain, that there’s a new water mill nearby he’s keen to show off. It’s half a day’s ride just to get there, and there’s a lovely monastery on the way where they keep annals. Niall chatters brightly and draws curlicue shapes in the air, mimicking illumination, and Owain bares that warband smile this lad doesn’t know to fear.

“I’ll be fine,” I tell him. “Off you go. We mustn’t be rude.”

Owain muffles a groan but kisses me farewell. Niall looks away, pinkening, so Owain takes his sweet time and paws me up and down for good measure. When they finally do clatter out, I shoulder my rucksack, put on my new shoes, admire the stitching and the color and the dyework, then head to the maidens’ quarters, where Nest has been given a bed.

No one answers my knock, so I let myself in. There are two rows of pallets with an aisle between them, and all are neatly made up and empty but for one near the door where Nest lies still and silent beneath a pile of blankets.

I hurry to her side. “Saints, are you all right?”

“Just tired.” Nest doesn’t turn to look at me, only pulls the covers more tightly around her neck.

Tired. My mother said that all the time when she was expecting Miv. “Ah . . . can I bring you something?”

“No. Thank you. I just want to rest. I’m sure it’s merely the journey catching up with me. I’ll be fine on the morrow.”

“Very well.” I wait, though. A moment, then another, in case she wants to say more. In case she wants to change her mind, because if she doesn’t, I’ll be without the one person who can help me be here.

But Nest stays still, eerily so, and at length I leave and shut the door firmly behind me. Outside, I lean against the wall of the maidens’ quarters and press both hands over my eyes. I do not often trouble Saint Elen with prayers. Asking for more than I’ve been given is as bad as putting words in her mouth. Mostly what I do is thank her. This prayer’s not for me, though. This one she is sure to look on kindly.

Please keep Nest from harm. All harm. Especially this harm.

I rock wearily away from the wall.

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