Page 3 of Castle of Refuge

Audrey turned the corner and reached for the kitchen door.

“Child! You look like the ditch digger’s daughter!” Sybil cried.

“I picked some wildflowers and—”

“Go get changed, quick!”

“Why? What—”

“Your father’s all in a fit to get you in front of that knight and his squire.”

“What? Why?” Audrey’s heart pounded against her chest.

“Come.” Sybil took her arm and pulled her forward. It was all Audrey could do to keep from spilling her wildflowers.

In Audrey’s bedchamber Sybil allowed her to spread her wildflowers on her windowsill to dry so she could press them later, while Sybil found her best dress, then helped her change her clothes.

Her stomach trembled as she managed to look Sybil in the eye. “Father’s not going to marry me off to that knight, is he?”

“Not the knight. I think he has a wife. It’s the squire. He’s the oldest son of the Earl of Dericott.”

An earl. And he was close to her own age. But she wasn’t ready to answer to a husband or to have children. She’d miss her wildflower meadow, her dogs, her lessons with her tutor, and her horseback rides to the sea. And what if her new husband turned out to be as cold and angry as her sister, Maris? Or as unfeeling as her father, who rarely looked at her, even when he spoke to her?

Sybil brushed her hair so aggressively, Audrey cried out.

“Forgive me. Hold still.”

Sybil pulled Audrey’s hair back into a circlet and covered itwith a sheer veil. Then she came around to look at Audrey’s face. Her own expression relaxed, and she even smiled.

“You have grown into such a beauty. Just like your mother.”

“Maris is prettier than I am.” Her sister had flawless skin and large green eyes. Maris had often told her how ugly she was with a disgusted expression and tone in her voice, but then Maris was always saying cruel things, things Audrey wasn’t sure she even meant. And she had seen the way the few young men she had met had looked at her. She was not ugly. But Maris was the beauty.

“You are very plain,” Maris would say, scrunching her whole face, as if she could barely stand to look at Audrey. “Your nose is crooked and your eyes are that insipid color of blue that no one likes.”

Maris’s eyes would go wide as she burst out laughing, an ear-piercing sound, and say, “You look like a villein!” She meant the poorest of the poor, the people who were bound to her father’s land and must toil very hard from sunup to sundown just to have enough food to stay alive.

“Your sister is pretty,” Sybil answered, bringing her back to the present, “but not as fair as you. Besides...” Sybil’s face clouded over, and she raised her brows and sighed. “Your sister does not have your patience for learning, nor does she have your sweet disposition.”

Father often said, “Your sister is not right in the head, and it will be your responsibility to take care of her when I am gone.” Then he would raise his brows and stroke his beard.

Father, who often laughed at other people’s misfortunes, never punished her sister for her violence toward the servantsnor her loud, rageful outbursts. But then Audrey could never quite condemn Maris either. Her sister had been treated cruelly by their nursemaid when she was a child, and Audrey believed that had affected her mind and was the reason she was often angry, with Audrey and everyone else. She was still her sister, and Audrey could remember times when they were very young when Maris would play with her and even take care of her when no servants were nearby. And yet . . . Maris often seemed to plan mischief against people who had never done her any harm.

Sybil hurried Audrey down the stairs.

“Do I have to do this? Do I have to meet them now? Perhaps Father wants me to wait until later.”

“No, no, he wants you. Come, come. Don’t dawdle.”

Audrey took the last step rather awkwardly as her skirts got tangled around her legs and she almost tripped. Sybil grabbed her arm, and Audrey paused to get her balance again and shake her skirts free. She walked slowly toward the main door to the Great Hall, which stood open. Inside her father was regaling his guests with a familiar story about his own days as a knight’s squire.

As she walked in, all three men turned to look at her. As did Maris.

Audrey’s sister was sitting on the other side of her father. Her stomach trembled inside her. Would Maris embarrass her with stories about some misstep or other? No doubt she’d talk about something Audrey did in their childhood with the intent to humiliate her.

“And here is my younger daughter, Audrey.” Her fathersmiled at her, that peculiar flat smile of his, and held out his hand for her to come join him at the table.

Audrey hurried forward and sat on the bench beside Maris, facing the knight and his squire.