Chapter 1
"I'm uneasy about this," Meg whispered as she eyed the wagon.
"You worry too much," I whispered back. "Kitty will be fine. She knows what she's doing."
"Does she? Anyway, that's not what I meant. I'm uneasy about it because she's still married. She shouldn't be…" She waved her hand at the covered wagon, now rocking in a way that left nothing to the imagination.
"Ignore them, and help me chop these vegetables," I said.
I wasn't prepared to have this discussion with Meg yet again. Ever since faking her death at the river crossing, Kitty's future had taken a dramatic turn. The duchess of Gladstow no longer had to look forward to a life of luxury and pampering. She had to travel with as little luggage as the rest of us, without her servants and with no official status. So if the world thought she was dead, did that mean she could break the vow of fidelity she'd made to her husband?
Kitty clearly thought so, going by the moans coming from the wagon. Meg did not. I was staying neutral on the subject. Kitty could make up her own mind. She was now free to do as she pleased with no husband to give her orders, no noblewomen to censure her, no societal rules to slavishly follow. If she wanted to think of her marriage as nullified by her fake death, then that was her decision to make.
The wagon curtain flipped back and Erik jumped to the ground. He assisted Kitty down the steps, bowed over her hand, and took up his sword from where it had been leaning against the wagon's wheel. With a nod for Meg and me, and another for Balthazar who did not look up from his map, Erik left the clearing to rejoin Quentin, watching the road to the north.
Kitty touched her hair, a satisfied look on her face. "Pass me a carrot, Meg."
"Not until you've washed your hands." Meg pointed to the pail of water, collected from the nearby stream.
Kitty did as directed then crouched alongside us. She accepted the carrot and knife from me and began chopping. Meg and I watched as Kitty held the carrot upright and began slicing towards her body. Her technique wasn't terrible but she had trouble getting the knife through the vegetable and her grip began to slip.
Meg held out her hand. "Give it to me before you slice off your thumb."
"What can I do to help?" Kitty asked, looking around.
"Perhaps Balthazar would enjoy your company."
Kitty screwed up her nose and eyed the old man angling the map towards the sky in an attempt to capture the last of the sunlight filtering through the treetops. "He wants to talk about politics and keeps asking me who the duke's friends are. I've answered as best as I can. I'd rather talk about more pleasant things." She cast her gaze in the direction Erik had gone.
Meg sliced through the carrot with the ease of someone who'd been in the kitchen her entire life and the vigor of someone annoyed with her companion. Each slice dropped into the simmering pot of water with a plunk.
I handed Kitty an onion. "Cut this up."
Kitty tossed the onion in the air and caught it. "How does one cut something of this shape?"
"Just do your best," I said, plucking a bunch of herbs from the hessian sack.
We'd purchased food and other odds and ends in Tilting before leaving, then replenished our supplies three days later in the village of Passby. At the end of each day, the men had caught rabbit or fish to add to our vegetable broth, and we'd dined well. Our supplies were running low again, but according to Balthazar, we should arrive in the twin cities of Merrin and Fahl by nightfall the following day. I was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed, if only for two nights before we continued our journey south to Freedland, where we hoped to find answers.
"I wonder how many attended my burial," Kitty mused. "I do hope the duke put up a gravestone in his family graveyard."
"I thought you hated him, his family and his castle," I said.
"I do, but the graveyard is situated on a hill overlooking the river. The view is quite lovely."
Despite her annoyance with Kitty's broken marriage vows, Meg laughed softly. "Didn't you want to discuss more pleasant things?" she asked. "Or is your death a more pleasing topic to you than politics?"
"Not my death, my burial. They're different things. But you're right, Meg. Let's discuss our men instead."
"We don't have men," Meg said, pointing her knife at me then herself.
"You would if you put in a little effort." Kitty wrinkled her nose as her eyes welled with tears. "Max is very taken with you."
"He might be married," Meg said snippily.
"But—"
"But nothing. I don't want him breaking any marriage vows for me, whether he can remember them or not."
"You might think that, but does he?" Kitty sniffed as a tear leaked from her right eye. She dashed it away with the back of her hand. "He doesn't seem particularly concerned. Don't deny it, Meg. I saw him kiss you."
Meg snatched up another carrot. "Kissing is one thing. It's not…" She pointed the carrot at the wagon.
"You ought to do it. It might relieve some tension."
Meg gasped. "I am not tense!"
"If you weren't tense, you wouldn't look upon me with envy after I've been with Erik."
"I do not look upon you with envy. I simply worry about the consequences of your actions."
Kitty lowered the onion she'd been slicing into large chunks. "It is sweet of you to worry, Meg, but you seem to have forgotten. I'm barren. There will be no consequences." She wiped her tears with the back of her hand again. "This is ridiculous. Why am I crying? I'm not sad."
"It's the onion," I told her.
She looked down at the remains of the onion in her hand. "Why is it the onion’s fault?"
"Chopping them makes your eyes water."
She sniffed again and tossed the rest of the onion into the pot. "Very amusing, but I'm not falling for it. I may have believed your joke about sausages growing on trees, but I won't believe that onions make one cry. These must be happy tears, that's all."
I shared a smile with Meg. "In that case, chop another." I handed her a second onion while retrieving a turnip from the sack. "I think what Meg's trying to say is that we're worried about you developing feelings for Erik."
"Or Erik developing feelings for you," Meg added. "Nothing can come of your relationship. You're already married."
Kitty waved the knife around, dangerously close to my face. "Don't worry about us. I'm simply having a little fun, and Erik's not the sort to fall in love with just one woman. Our arrangement is temporary, and that suits us both."
I had to agree with her logic. Of all the people to have a casual dalliance with, Erik was probably the best choice. He loved all women, no matter their status, appearance, or even their character. He saw the world as a place filled with two types of women—ones he’d slept with and ones he’d yet to sleep with. Sometimes I wondered if he left the Margin and crossed the Hawk River because he'd been with every woman from his homeland and wanted to explore what the rest of the Fist Peninsula's female population had to offer.