Dragon's Keep by Janet Lee Carey

shadows met upon the wall. With none
around to hear, Kit whispered, "Where?"
    "From Niles Broderick."
    She closed my chamber
door and said, "Sit here while I build up
the fire."
    I did as she commanded me. As Kit tossed a
shank of pine into the hearth and set to with the poker, she told me why Mother
had called her to her chamber.
    She may as well have jabbed my heart with the
poker.
    "The nunnery? Never! I won't let Mother send you!"
    "You cannot stop it." Kit brushed
the bark dust from her hands.
    "I will! When the feast is over I'll
march to Mother's room and tell her you will stay!"
    Kit sat down beside me,
the flames washing gold across her cheeks.
    "It's done, Rosie. Your mother blames me
for putting you in danger."
    "But we had to go and warn your
mother."
    "She won't have me here with you
anymore. She says I am not honorable."
    "Not honorable?"
    "Sit still," said Kit, "and
speak softer; someone may come down the hall."
    Our words were circling round and round the
truth. This

wasn't about rescuing Aiissandra but about our friendship.
Mother thought we were too close, that I might share my secret with her. And
she couldn't risk that.
    "It's my
fault," I said suddenly. Its not.
    "But—"
    Kit silenced me with
three cool fingers on my lips. "It's done, Rosie. The queen won't change her mind." She leaned closer to my
ear. "Your mother must never know what happened to me in the orchard.
Promise me this, Rosie."
    I didn't move.
    "You know it's not safe for me here now
that I can speak. How long before the queen discovers
this?"
    "We'll keep it secret."
    She tipped her head. "Think,
Rosie."
    I couldn't look at her face, her eyes.
    Kit unclasped the silver pin her mother had
just given her and held it out to me.
    "I can't take this," I choked.
    Kit shook her head and pressed it into my
glove.
    The next morning I watched Kit ride away with
Sister Anne. Clouds shadowed the moat dark as stained wool as their horses
crossed the drawbridge. In ten days' time Kit and Sister Anne would reach Saint
Brigid's Abbey, where Kit's mother awaited. I clutched her pin to my breast, my
mother watching Kit's departure beside me at my window.

My breath came wild and
    gulping as my bright swan shadow rode down Kingsway. And in Kit's hand I spied a slender apple bough.
    I knew the message there. "Don't be sad, Rosie. I go where I can free my voice at last." She held the branch out bravely, the small green leaves dipping in the wind.

     

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    The
Listing Ship
    T hrough autumn I was wrapped in sorrow thick as a sea mist. And when the winter snow fell I stayed by my hearth.
But no matter how close to the fire I sat,
I never could get warm. Mother brought more healers to Pendragon Castle. I submitted to their salves and I drank their potions, sour to sour.
    I turned sixteen and no news of dragon attack
came that early spring. We were soon to find out why.
    One windswept morning I quit the castle at
long last to ride again with Father. Through fields of buttercups and wild iris
we galloped till we reached Lake Ailleann. Father slowed to a trot. "I've
seen you sorrowful all season, Rosie."
    "
    "Aye."
    We let the hoofbeats measure out the silence
between us.
    "More than foul weather brought you
down," Father said at last. "Still you mourn your nursemaid."
    I nodded.
    "And you miss the
little lady's maid? You have a good heart," said Father. "I'm glad for the prince who will marry you."

I held my reins, gave
Rollo a pat, and watched the first beams of
sunlight winking on the lake.
    "You're of an age
to marry now," continued Father as we rode on. "I wed your mother at sixteen. But we're still waiting on Empress
Matilda. Merlin's prophecy rests heavy on us."
    "It may be the saving of Wilde Island has nothing to do with marriage."
    Father pulled Crispin to a halt. "What?
You think never to marry, a beautiful maid like you? It would be a sin."
    His words were fresh as
bellows to dormant coals. And a little hope-fire
kindled in my