Queen of Sorrows--Part Three, Chapter Six

[Evie]

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Chapter Six

June 17, 1465
The Palace of Horthánthy
A short distance from the Servants' Gate
Late Afternoon

This ain't the safest place to be right now, with His Lordship in charge o' things, his hired thugs out an' about causing mayhem, and heads about to roll. The maidservant's words continued to echo in Queen Miranda's thoughts as she left the Servants' Gate, walking a few yards down the path until she found a small nook between buildings where she could duck out of sight of any passers-by. Her blood ran cold as she considered the implications of that statement. She had known her own life and Marija's were certainly in danger when she'd fled Horthánthy, but she had hoped that once Davorin's hired men and loyalists had broken through the outer doors and had gained access to her ladies, only to discover their quarry had already fled, the Lord Chief Chamberlain might show the other ladies-in-waiting some clemency.  After all, they had never done anything to deserve such a fate, unless merely belonging to the Queen's Household was enough to merit them vengeful treatment in Lord Davorin's eyes, despite the fact that it had been the Hort who had selected the majority of them in the first place, and in some cases their service to her had only been reluctantly given.

Or had the maidservant simply been referring to other heads rolling instead? Convicted criminals already scheduled for execution? Although that didn't make sense either; convicts were more usually hanged for their offences unless they were nobly born and therefore entitled to a swifter and more merciful death by a sharp sword. She couldn't think of any convicted prisoners in Horthánthy's dungeon at the moment whose crimes were severe enough to warrant execution by either means.

Hopefully the maidservant was simply speaking more metaphorically than literally. Miranda clung to that hope as she changed her guise to the appearance of a young woman,but one as unlike her normal appearance as she could imagine, trying to make herself look as nondescript and forgettable as she could manage. Again, she wished she had had the forethought to bring a mirror with her, but as she had not, instead she focused her thoughts on the form and visage of a young Orsalian woman she had caught a glimpse of earlier in the day, doing her best to create a similar sort of appearance, though not an identical copy of the woman's clothing or features either, for fear someone might recognize her and wonder why she was seeking employment as a nursemaid at the Palace.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, Miranda stepped back out into the winding street and made her way back up it towards the Servants' Gate.

#

June 17, 1465
Outside the Palace of Horthánthy
A curtain wall high above the sea
Late afternoon

The Duke of Corwyn felt a deep sense of failure and frustration, knowing that despite their best efforts, it was too late to save the prisoners taken from the Royal Nursery from their fate. Up until the very last possible minute, his team had searched for some way into the high security dungeon where they had been held, but their efforts had been in vain. The great Astronomical Clock in the Hort's Watchtower had finally heralded the fifth hour of the clock. The courtyard had again filled with people ordered by their self-proclaimed Lord Protector to witness the parody of justice he had planned to showcase.

They had slipped out of the Palace at that point, while everyone else's attention had been focused elsewhere. Even then, Joss had longed to do something to stop the inevitable and unjust proceedings, charging into the crowd and cutting down as many of the gawking spectators as might be necessary to rescue the two Gwyneddans and the innocent Tralian nursemaids who had been sentenced to death, but to do so would not have simply endangered himself and his men–a risk all of them would have gladly taken if they'd thought there would be any hope of success–it would also have guaranteed a more expeditious death for the remaining prisoners, and likely an even more horrific form of execution in retaliation, as well as placing the Royal Children forever out of their mother's reach.

He needed to remain focused on their remaining missions rather than dwelling on how he would ever manage to look Richard of Marley in the eye again. Tight-lipped, he signaled to Rafe to take the lead position as they discreetly made their way out of the Palace gates and began to make their way around the curtain wall of the fortifications at the base of the Horthánthy Palace compound. Rafe knew where he was headed better than the rest of them did; it had been he who had finally managed to discover a possible means of access into the building where the remaining prisoners were being held captive. Their execution was not scheduled until shortly before sundown of the following day. Joss did not intend for them to be anywhere near Horthánthy by that time.

The narrow footpath that led around the base of the curtain wall eventually wound around to the seaward side of the compound, the part of the Palace overlooking the main body of the Southern Sea and the distant Corwyn shore. The path got even narrower and more treacherous at this point, forcing the men to pay close attention to where they stepped in order to avoid slipping down the steep, nearly cliff-like slope and landing on the boulders far below, lost forever to the crashing waves that washed the rocky base of Montvert.

Their careful steps eventually led them to a small recess in the curtain wall where Rafe had informed them they would find a postern door, cleverly concealed, which was meant to be a secret means of egress in the event the palace came under siege. To their surprise, someone else was hiding in the shadowy nook, her eyes growing wide with terror as they rounded the corner of the wall to find her there.

She was a young woman of perhaps nineteen or twenty years, her modest garments in the Hortic colors of sea-green and white denoting her status as a Palace servant, perhaps a chambermaid judging by her apron and the style of her linen headwrap. When they had first come upon her, she had been standing next to the door with her hand resting lightly on the lock, her eyes closed and her brow slightly furrowed in concentration. Now those alarmed eyes darted back and forth looking for some means of escape.

"Please do not scream," Rafe swiftly requested in an urgent whisper, inserting a note of command into his voice. "We'd really rather not die today."

"Nor would I," the young woman replied quietly, her panic slowly beginning to subside as she glanced at the strangers before her. Joss felt a tentative brush of her mind probing for shields. Not knowing her intent, he tightened his own, but nodded his acknowledgement of her unstated question.

"You are neither Orsalian nor Tralian," she observed.

"We are not." Joss wondered how much he could trust this young Palace servant. Though if she was also trying to break into this part of the Palace, he was fairly sure that whatever her intentions were, she was unlikely to be one of Lord Davorin's or Lady Jesaminda's loyalists. "We are Gwyneddan, here at the Queen of Orsal and Tralia's behest." He watched carefully for her reaction. If she made any move to betray them now that she knew why they were here, well, it was a very long drop to the rocks and waves below. He hoped very much for her sake that he would not be forced to do anything they would both find regrettable.

She relaxed further. "My half-sister Danelija is one of the Queen's ladies. They are being held in one of the rooms in the building beyond this door. I think I know which one they are in, but I do not know how heavily it is guarded. I will lead you there if you can help me get them out." She paused. "That is why you are here, is it not?"

He nodded. "Rafe, please assist the young lady with the lock."

#

June 17, 1465
The Palace of Horthánthy
Outside the Servants' Gate
Late Afternoon

Less than a half hour after Miranda had shown up at the wall where the service notices were customarily posted, she was back again, this time hopefully appearing better suited for a position as a nursemaid. If she was turned away again, she was not entirely certain what to try next, aside from possibly returning to Rolf's cottage and trying again the following morning. She had managed a few short hours of fitful rest in her old apartment at Rhemuth, but the lack of proper sleep was beginning to make itself felt, and she knew that fatigue could lead to carelessness.

She knocked on the postern door, and the same maidservant slid back the shutter from a tiny grilled window to peer out at her. "I'm here to ask after th' nursemaid position, miss," said Miranda, doing her best to sound like one of her Tralian nursemaids.

"It's a bit late," said the maidservant, sounding reluctant to admit her, "and I'm not sure th' lady what's hirin' for it is available to meet wi' you right now...."

"Who is at the door, Hedda?" Miranda heard a familiar voice ask, although she could not see the speaker from her vantage point. "And did you post that notice yet like I told you to?"

"Yes, my lady," Miranda heard the maidservant say as she turned away from the small window. "There's a woman out here now says she's askin' after th' position, if it ain't too late, though perhaps now ain't a good time..." Somewhere beyond the closed door, Miranda heard and sensed a small child in distress. To her alarm, it was her Rezza! It took every ounce of her will not to simply blast down the door between them and run off with her daughter. Only the knowledge that a single misstep would cause her to lose everything despite coming so close to gaining access to her children kept her anger in check.

"Nonsense! The sooner, the better!" Another face appeared in the window, or at least part of a face. The blue eyes peering out at her were just as familiar as the voice. "You there! What's your name?"

Miranda stifled a momentary surge of panic. She had not thought that far ahead. "Maida!" she blurted, picking the first Tralian serving class name to pop into her head.

"What sort of experience do you have with minding children?" the imperious voice asked.

"I've mostly cared for younger children, M'Lady, ages five years and younger, but I can care for older children also if need be." If the woman with Rezza was the former lady-in-waiting Miranda felt very certain that she was, she would need to answer very carefully. Lady Mirna was no Deryni and therefore couldn't Truth-Read, yet she had keen enough instincts to detect an outright lie more often than not.

"Are you a wet nurse?" the voice asked.

"No! No, M' Lady." Miranda nearly forgot to be properly deferential in her surprise at the question. The youngest of the children in the Royal Nursery had been Létald and Brendan, born within mere days of each other, but both had been weaned already. Had the children been placed with younger infants who would require a wet nurse? Would not being able to nurse them disqualify her from the position?"

"Good. The posting is for a nursemaid, not a wet nurse, but some of you beggars don't seem to know the difference."

That's because there isn't always one, you twit! Miranda thought privately, schooling her expression to a bland, polite smile. The three Tralian nursemaids who had worked in the Royal Nursery had all started off as wet nurses originally, young mothers from Orsalis and Horthánthy whose own infants had died soon after birth and who therefore had milk to spare for their young charges. They had not been replaced just because the youngest of their charges no longer required a wet nurse.

The door opened, and Lady Mirna poked her head out to give her a quick once-over. "You'll do. Hedda, find Maida some livery that will fit and send her straight up." She took a step back, allowing Miranda to enter the Palace compound, and turned her attention back to the quietly crying girl at her side. "Enough of that, you! Stop your sniveling, or it's straight to bed with no supper as soon as we're back upstairs." With an expressive roll of her eyes, Mirna glanced back over her shoulder at Hedda as she dragged Miranda's eldest child away. "I want her sent up as soon as possible, mind! It's been an absolutely exhausting day!"

#

June 17, 1465
The Town of Horthánthy
A private residence
Early Evening

The seafood pottage was far from the fanciest meal the Duke of Corwyn had ever been offered, but it was both tasty and filling, and he ate his small portion of it gladly. As he did so, he glanced up at the young chambermaid who had assisted him and his men that evening, an appreciative smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Two hours earlier, Olga (whose name they had not discovered until some short time later) had lost no time in leading them up a set of stairs in a servants' corridor until they had reached the topmost level of chambers in the tower they had found themselves in. There, they had found themselves peering out of the stairwell into one end of a short corridor. In the middle of the corridor was a door and a rather bored looking man on guard. Judging by the tawny-orange and gold livery he wore, he was not one of the Corps Phénix mercenaries Lord Davorin had hired, but one of his personal retainers. That could be either good news or bad. Good, because that meant it was less likely he was a professionally trained killer. Bad, because that meant he was personally loyal to Lord Davorin. Not that Joss had entertained any hopes of simply bribing the guard, but the man would be more likely to feel a greater sense of personal investment in pleasing his master..

The demure young maiden who had thrown in her lot with his party had undergone a startling transformation then, making a few minor adjustments to the lacing of her bodice and adjusting her skirts in such a way that made her look, if not nearly as brazen as Lady Jesaminda, at least a lot more enticing as she proceeded down the corridor past the guard, adding an extra hint of sway to her walk as she passed him with an inviting smile. The man, to his credit, did not leave his post, but his attention was fully engaged on the young woman as she continued down the corridor, which was all that Joss required. That momentary distraction had allowed Marc and Bennet the opportunity to slip up on him from behind and rendering him unconscious before he was aware of their presence.

The rest of the men had entered the corridor quickly, Marc taking the key to the door from the guard's belt and handing it to Joss while Bennet took advantage of the moment to plant a set of false memories and some controls into the unconscious guard's mind. The other men had swiftly entered the room, closing the door behind them while Bennet brought the guard back to consciousness. Soon Lord Davorin's man was standing guard at the door again with no memory of what had happened, or that the room behind him now contained more than the four captured young women he had been charged with guarding.

A few moments later, the door had opened again and the guard obediently allowed the young chambermaid through it with no apparent recognition. She'd stared back at him as she came through the door before glancing at Joss as the door closed behind her. "That's a handy trick!"

He'd nodded. "Ethically questionable, but under the circumstances, necessary. Hopefully he'll find it preferable to simply being killed instead."  Joss had checked on the bound women next, frowning as he realized they were not simply sleeping, but also drugged. "Marc, what do you make of this? Not merasha, I hope?" That would make extricating them from the Palace grounds especially difficult, especially if they were planning on bringing them out along the same route they used to get in.

The younger man had knelt beside the closest of the women to him, giving her a swift assessing mental probe. "No, nothing like that, thank Jesu!  I think it's little more than a mild sedative, likely used to prevent them from fighting back and to force them to sleep." He'd frowned as he took a closer look at her bruises and torn clothing. "I can clear that from their system fairly quickly, but it might be best to wait until I've Healed their physical injuries first and blurred their memories a bit. Altering the guard's memories isn't going to be very helpful if they wake before I'm done and bring the entire Palace up here with their screaming as soon as they discover they're surrounded by unknown men."

Joss had nodded. "Work quickly, then. The sooner we're away from here, the better."

The Healer had worked as swiftly as he could, given the circumstances, although the extent of the young ladies-in-waiting's injuries had made his task more difficult, and it had been evident by the time Marc finished his task that his energy had been sorely depleted. That had hardly been surprising, given that most of them had been awake for over twenty-four hours at that point, and despite the use of a few helpful elixirs and fatigue banishing spells, they were all going to need to find a safe place to sleep very soon. Fortunately his other men, though not Healers themselves, had been able enough to assist with blurring the memories of the four captives, unbinding them, and helping them back to full consciousness once Marc felt satisfied that none of the ladies would react in alarm once they did so.

The chambermaid had addressed the waking ladies first, which Joss had agreed would likely be the most sensible approach, since she was already known to Lady Danelija, and the other women might also recognize her as a familiar face even if she wasn't personally known to them.

"These men have been sent by the Queen to save you," Olga had whispered. "But come quickly; their efforts will be in vain if we are caught here."

She had needed no further argument than that. The dark-haired lady who looked similar to Olga, who Joss assumed was Lady Danelija, had swiftly risen to her feet, flexing her limbs tentatively as the realization had dawned that she was no longer in pain, her companions following her lead and beginning to do likewise. "Thank you," the brunette woman had whispered as Joss had opened the door, his men flanking the small group of women and escorting them down the corridor to the servants' stairwell, towards the postern door to safety, Rafe carefully locking the door behind them.

It had taken them the next hour to make their way around the narrow path alongside the curtain wall, a route that was even more perilous in the gathering darkness, although that darkness had also offered them welcome concealment. Once they had reached the front of the castle, they had paused briefly while Joss used the remainder of his flagging energies to place a glamour of concealment over the ladies to help disguise them, not able to carry off a full shape-shifting of their features by then. They had entered the maze of cobbled streets leading down towards the water front, Olga leading the way once she understood the men were trying to lead them towards the port area, for she was more familiar with the layout of Horthánthy. At last they had found themselves back at the wine merchant's property where Joss and his men had entered the Île d'Orsal early that morning. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Now their energies had been at least slightly replenished by the seafood pottage he had offered them. There was only one last task that needed to be accomplished before Joss and his men could sleep like the dead for a few hours.

"Good work, lads," he told his men. "Rafe, you and Bennet can bring the ladies to Coroth Castle and see to their accommodations. Then get your rest and return here at daybreak."  Handing his bowl back to the wine merchant, he said, "My men and I don't wish to put you in further danger. Is there an inn nearby where we can find lodging for the night?"

The man shrugged. "In for a penny and all that. If you don't mind sleeping in a bed of straw in a loft, I've got a storehouse out back where it's certain no one will sell you out unless Lord Davorin's managed to bribe my wine casks."

#

June 17, 1465
The Palace of Horthánthy
Lord Davorin's apartment complex
Late Evening

"We are still in the process of getting the Royal Nursery set to rights," Lady Mirna informed her new nursemaid, "so this is where you'll be staying in the meantime." She led Miranda through a door into a separate section of the large apartment that contained furnishings which looked familiar, if somewhat haphazardly arranged. It appeared that her son's bed and a few bags of clothing and other supplies had been brought into the large chamber from the Nursery, although the larger bed her daughters had shared was absent, replaced by a pallet on the floor near the bed where Létald slept. Silvé lay curled up in a tiny ball on the pallet, spiky lashes on tear-stained cheeks informing Miranda that her child had likely cried herself to sleep. Beside her, one of her Tralian nursemaids also slept, her arm protectively curled around the small child.

It dawned on Miranda that the position posting had said nothing about whose children she had been hired to care for, so she feigned ignorance. "And what are the children's names, my lady?"

Rezza's eyes widened. "Mama!" she exclaimed.

Lady Mirna dropped the child's hand, only to grab her by the shoulders and give her a quick shake. "I told you to stop that!" she ordered. "What did I tell you? Your mother killed your father and she's never coming back for you. Now shut up and go to sleep!"

Rezza turned confused eyes towards her mother, who swiftly crouched beside her, turning the girl gently to face her and deftly placing some controls in her daughter's mind as she did so to prevent her child from betraying her secret further. "Hush, little sweeting! I know it must be a very confusing day for you. Why don't you go rest now, and I'll see about finding some supper for you soon, hm?" As her daughter complied, walking over to curl up next to her sister, Miranda waited a few moments to compose her features into a suitable expression that would conceal her fury from her former lady-in-waiting. Once she felt certain the forced smile was securely plastered to her face, she stood, turning to face Lady Mirna again.

"As I was about to say before we were interrupted," Mirna said, looking highly annoyed, "that one is named Rezza, and her sister is Silvé. Rezza sometimes calls her Silvie, but she is to be corrected when she does. The little boy is named Létald. They haven't adjusted to being orphans yet, and they've been very cosseted and indulged up 'til now, so you might need to take a firm hand with them to make them mind. Meals will be brought up daily at dawn, noon, and at the sixth hour of the clock, and you will take your meals with the children. Any leftovers are to be stored in that aumbry for the chambermaids to take away every morning and evening so they don't attract pests." She pointed to the cabinet in question. "The children are all expected to be in bed by the eighth hour." She walked over and kicked the Tralian nursemaid none too gently to wake her. "Lucija, go to your own bed!" As the other nursemaid began to stir, Mirna led Miranda into an adjoining chamber where two other pallets had been set up on either side along with two small chests. "Your livery and any other belongings can go in there," Mirna said, pointing out one of the chests, "and that pallet is where you will sleep for now. Once the nursery doors have been replaced and that part of the Palace tidied up a bit, you'll have a proper bed to sleep in, but that should serve well enough in the meantime." As the other nursemaid joined them, Mirna added, "This is Lucija. She will help you learn what is expected of you. Lucija, this is...what did you say your name is again, girl?"

It took Miranda a moment to remember. "Maida," she replied, giving the nursemaid a smile that she hoped looked reassuring, for the other woman looked unaccountably terrified, even more so than Miranda would naturally expect under the current circumstances. She looked around the small room she would be sharing with the Tralian nursemaid, noticing one glaring omission that she had not spotted in the larger chamber either. "Where might I find a chamber pot or a garderobe, my lady? And have the younger children been trained in their use yet?"

"Over there," said Mirna, pointing out a curtained niche on the other side of the larger chamber the children shared. "On the other side of that curtain is a short passage that will lead you to the garderobe. I'm certain Rezza knows how to use one, but I don't know about the other two. You will have to ask Lucija." She started towards the door they had originally come through to enter this part of the apartment. "Either Lord Davorin or Lady Jesaminda will very likely come to meet you and to check in on the children shortly after breakfast. We expect them to be fully dressed and on their best behavior by then. If you have not yet eaten, you might find some leftovers in the aumbry. If not, then breakfast will be brought up at dawn." Lady Mirna opened the door and returned to the luxurious comfort of Lord Davorin's quarters. Miranda could hear the tumblers turning in the door as her former lady-in-waiting locked her into the smaller apartment with her children and Lucija.

#

June 17, 1465
The Palace of Horthánthy
The makeshift nursery
Night

As exhausted as she was, Miranda had trouble falling asleep on her pallet, not because it was particularly uncomfortable, but because she was seething with rage.

As soon as Lucija had fallen asleep again, Miranda had tiptoed back into the larger chamber where her children lay sleeping, both to set the same sort of controls on Silvé and Létald that she'd had to impose on Rezza just in case they happened to sense her presence and figure out that the person caring for them was their mother despite her current strange appearance as a nursemaid who looked very different, and also to sift through their memories of the past twenty-four hours to see if she could piece together what had happened to the rest of her household, or at least those members of it who had been in the Royal Nursery when Lord Davorin's men had stormed the Royal Apartments.

Her son's memories were fortunately largely untroubled, more confused than frightened. There had been a great deal of noise at first, and he had been very cross and had cried loudly until someone stroked his brow and he fell asleep. He woke up again briefly when the pretty lady with bright hair ran through a room with him and placed him on something soft on the floor. It had seemed like a fun game, and he had liked looking up at the glowing bubble above him while the nice man held him and the other baby boy until he fell asleep again. When he woke, they were all gone except for the two girls, who cried until the mean lady slapped them for it. He had cried too, but when the mean lady leaned over him, the man with the mean look on his face said something sharp to her and she had left him alone for the woman who usually cared for him to carry.

Silvé's dreams were more unsettled, and Miranda had needed to help soothe her into a deeper and dreamless slumber. Silvé's memories contained the sensed fear emanating from the adults rushing through the Nursery, some frantically gathering up supplies while others worked to secure the large doors that led out towards the guards' sleeping chamber and the main entrance. Silvé had not understood what was happening, but she knew it was something very frightening, so she was frightened too. Then Lady Genevieve saw her sitting up in her bed, alone and scared, and had given her a quick hug, smoothing the hair from her brow. She'd fallen asleep after that, not waking until she heard a woman screaming. When she opened her eyes, big mean-looking men were dragging away all of her grown-ups except for Mistress Lucija, who kept crying for some reason. Then Lady Meana made them come here to this strange place where she kept acting cross at all of them for no reason, and Mama never came to bring her back to her own apartment to play with Katja and the other nice ladies. Silvé did not like it here at all! She wanted her Mama, and she wanted to go back home, and she wished she could bite Lady Meana, but she didn't want to get slapped in the face again!

Miranda had saved Rezza for last, already worried about what she would discover in her eldest daughter's mind, for at age five she was likely to remember and understand a great deal more than a child who was not quite three yet or a toddler barely past his first year of life.

The pounding at the door had terrified Rezza. She had eventually understood that there were bad men outside trying to get in, though why they wanted to enter a nursery was a strange and baffling thought. She had tried to help, but since she couldn't lift heavy things and she kept getting in the way, the nursemaid named Mistress Emilija had finally told her to go to the very last room and stay put. She had done so, bringing her poppet with her, the one with the black hair that looked like Mama's, because she was scared but Mama wasn't there, she was in her own apartment with the other ladies.

Once a lot of heavy things were pushed up against the doors, Father Emrys came into the room where she was, bringing the cot mattresses in with him. She helped him lay them out on the floor as the other grown-ups joined them, and they all sat around in a small group on the floor while Father Emrys walked around them and did something with glowing cubes that made a big glowing bubble spring up around them. She'd felt safe then, although she was not sure why, unless it was just because all the grown-ups felt safer too. She could sense their relief in the air around them, just like she could sense if people were telling the truth or a lie, even if it was just a little fib. Lady Genevieve had fibbed a little bit, saying they were going to play a game by hiding under the glowing bubble she called a Ward and being very, very quiet. Rezza understood it wasn't really a game, but she played along anyway like a good helper because she didn't want Silvé or Ciardha to be scared. Then Lady Genevieve had lain down, holding her and Ciardha close against her chest while Father Emrys helped them with their bedtime prayers, and Rezza had fallen asleep at last.

She had slept a dreamless sleep. It was bright the next morning when the nightmare began. The bad men had finally broken in, and Rezza saw that Lord Davorin was with them. She was confused, because Lord Davorin was Papa's best friend, or at least Papa seemed to believe so, even though Rezza had never liked Lord Davorin. She didn't really know why, she just didn't. The bad men took all the grown-ups away, everyone except Mistress Lucija, the babies' nursemaid who was newest, who didn't come to live with them until right before Létald and Brendan were borned. Mistress Lucija was crying and begging Lord Davorin not to do it, that she'd never have agreed to do as he'd asked if she'd known that's what he'd planned to do, only she hadn't said what it or that were. He knew, though, judging by the smirk on his face as he let the bad men take them away. He told her she ought to feel grateful she still had her life and her livelihood, and what would her family do if he sent her off to join the other nursemaids? Rezza was confused by that also. She had thought Mistress Lucija was part of her family now, like the other nursemaids.

Rezza hadn't noticed until they were brought here that Brendan and Ciardha weren't with them anymore. They hadn't let her bring anything except her poppet, the one with the hair like Mama's, and that was only because she'd hidden it inside her dress. It had fallen out once they started climbing the big stairs to this place, but Mistress Lucija had spotted it and hid it in her skirt pocket where Rezza couldn't get to it until Lady Meana came in, making her and Silvé cry, and Lucija had remembered it and gave it back to her again, to Rezza's great relief, because Lady Meana said Mama was gone and never coming back, and Rezza understood at once that it wasn't a lie. If she couldn't have Mama, at least she wanted the poppet to remember her by. Because Mistress Lucija and Lady Meana were talking about dead people, and Rezza wasn't sure what that meant exactly, except that she understood that sometimes people went away forever and never came back, and people went to church and prayed for them and were sad for a while, and that was what being dead meant. She didn't want her Mama to be dead.

Lady Meana had finally gone away and left them alone for a little while, and Rezza had eaten a bit and had a nap, but then she came back and said Rezza needed to go with her to see what happened to bad girls who were uppity and didn't mind their manners and do as they were told. Rezza hadn't wanted to go, but she was scared she would get slapped again if she didn't, so she went with Lady Meana to the courtyard, where Lord Davorin watched with a smile on his face as Father Emrys was brought to the scary man with the black hood. Father Emrys dropped to his knees like he was going to pray, but Rezza didn't see what happened next because other people were in the way.

But then Lady Genevieve came out, holding Brendan and Ciardha, but they were covered with blood. And she looked straight at Lord Davorin and called him a you-surper, whatever that was. And then the scary man had cut off her head.

Lady Meana had started to bring her back here then, but then they'd stopped at the gate first, and there was a stranger at the door who didn't look very much like her Mama, but she felt just like her on the inside where it mattered. And even though everything else still felt strange and scary, Rezza felt a little bit better now. Even though Lady Meana had taken her favorite poppet away, that didn't matter so much anymore, because now she didn't have to settle for pretending Mama wasn't dead. Now she had her real Mama back.

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