Prized by Caragh M. O'brien Page A

baby later. At least, that’s what I believe now, but I’ve never been in your position. Listen, Peony. It’s because I feel so strongly about it myself that I respect how completely this has to be your own decision. You’re the only one, the only one, who can make the right choices for your family.”
    â€œMy family,” Peony whispered.
    Gaia stood. “I’d stay with you, but then everyone would know.”
    Peony nodded. She turned bleakly toward the cup on the tray.
    â€œThe honey bread’s for after,” Gaia said. “The taste is foul.”
    â€œHow soon will it start?” Peony asked.
    â€œSoon.”
    â€œAnd when will it be over?”
    â€œBy morning.”
    There was nothing more Gaia could do. She took a step toward the door, and suddenly Peony reached out to grab her hand with cold fingers.
    â€œStay with me one more minute, just while I drink it,” Peony begged.
    Gaia squeezed her hand back. “Okay.”

    She watched while Peony took the cup and brought it to her lips. A last moment Peony held it there, rigid with fear and determination, and then she tilted the cup to drink. She didn’t stop until it was all down. The honey bread went untouched. When Peony climbed onto her bed and hid her face in her pillow, Gaia quietly let herself out.

CHAPTER 7
    chainmates
    G AIA COULD NOT SLEEP. Two hours later, she snuck back up to Peony’s room to check on her, and later, hearing noises in the bathroom, she checked on her there as well. By dawn, she was anxious to check on her again, but people were stirring in the lodge, and she was afraid it would be noticed and remembered if she went up to the second floor.
    She waited anxiously for breakfast, and when the mlasses came down to eat, Peony was the last to appear, wan but managing to act enough like normal to avoid calling attention to herself. That was it, then. She’d made it through the night. Images that had been hovering at the back of Gaia’s imagination of the girl’s bed awash with blood were finally put to rest, and she sagged in her chair.
    â€œAre you all right?” Mlady Roxanne asked, looking over.
    Gaia picked at a button on her sweater. It wasn’t chilly, but she was cold. “Yes. Still just a little tired, I guess.”
    â€œYou’ve been working too hard. I warned you,” Mlady Roxanne said.
    â€œI’m okay. I think I’ll take a walk.” She couldn’t abide the idea of being cooped up inside.

    â€œI thought you would start lessons with the other mlasses this morning,” Mlady Roxanne said.
    â€œJust one more day,” Gaia said. “I’ll start tomorrow, I promise.”
    Mlady Roxanne touched Gaia’s shoulder gently and smiled. “All right. But take it easy today. Give the garden and herbs a rest.”
    Gaia was more than willing to agree.
    She took a furtive glance down the table to where Peony was eating her oatmeal, and then ducked her head over her own bowl. She would go down to the shore, she decided. Maybe someone there would take her out to the island, or at the least she could look out to where Maya was. She needed something to ground her again.
    It was the first time she’d walked downhill since she’d arrived, and soon she found a row of dark, solid cabins where a cooper, a blacksmith, a weaver, a cobbler, and a potter were all busy with their trades. Trees had been felled to make way for gardens and pastures, but most of the cabins and roads were in shade, and the people, she saw, were not as scrupulously careful to wear hats and long sleeves as they had been back home. They looked more comfortable, more carefree than the people in hardscrabble, sun-baked Wharfton, and she took her hat off, too. She liked the feel of lightness around her hair and neck.
    Several lesser roads converged at an arching willow, and she recognized the place from the night Josephine had her baby. The marsh was visible