Page 83 of Fortress of Snow

“I will leave you, then. I know you are tired.” He pointed to the wall. “My room is there. Just come and get me, or pound on the wall if you need me. But be careful. Lady Bristow’s room is onmy other side.” He took her hand in his. “Thank you for coming to warn me. You are very kind and good, Mazy of Wexcombe, and I am grateful for you.”

She stared up at him, her heart in her throat. How good he looked—not good as in handsome, although he was certainly that, but good as in a person whose heart was without guile, blameless and full of compassion. Oh, how she wanted to be close to this man, both in proximity and in spirit.

“I...” She probably looked like a fish just plucked from the water. She closed her mouth, swallowed, and managed to say, “I’m glad I could help. You are very kind and good too.”

She sounded like a child, her words simple and stilted. Why could she not think of something more eloquent?

He squeezed her hand and left, slipping out the door and closing it noiselessly.

She lifted her hand to her lips, the hand he had just been holding, and imagined she was kissing him.God, forgive me for my foolishness, and let me not be too brokenhearted when I have to part from him again.

He might not marry Lady Bristow, but someday he would marry someone, a lady, no doubt.

Berenger was awake before dawn. Indeed, he had not slept much all night, as he listened for any sign of distress or danger from Mazy’s room. When the sun was up, he went to knock on her door, but softly.

She answered immediately, fully dressed, and was even carrying her bag.

“You are coming with me, yes?” Mazy said.

“Yes, but I have to tell Juliana’s nurse to gather her things.”

“Be careful.” Mazy’s brows rose into her hair. She looked so sweet and innocent, not like Lady Bristow, who had obviously been feigning those same qualities.

“But first I want to walk you down to the stable and meet your guard.”

They passed through the hallway and down the stairs without spotting anyone. But as they were walking through the ground level, an anguished cry rang out from Juliana’s room.

Berenger broke into a run, dropping Mazy’s bag.

He rushed into her room as the head housekeeper was trying to pry Juliana’s hands away from her mouth.

“What is happening here?”

“The child refuses to eat,” the woman said, hesitating, a guilty look on her face. “Lady Bristow said she was to have this.”

Berenger strode forward and got between the servant and the child. “She will eat when she wishes to eat.”

“What is that you’re feeding her?” Mazy stepped forward, staring at the bowl and spoon in the servant’s hands.

The servant pulled the bowl away, hiding it under her arm. “That is not your concern.”

“Give it to me.” Berenger held out his hand.

The servant started to run from the room, clutching the bowl to her chest, but Berenger grabbed her by the arm, taking the bowl from her.

Juliana said, her voice sounding as if she was choking back tears, “I hate mushrooms.”

Mazy gasped, and her eyes met his. “The rumor was that she gave her husband death cap mushrooms.”

Berenger examined the contents of the small wooden bowl. Scrambled eggs with tiny bits of what looked like mushrooms mixed in. Heat crept into his forehead.

He squatted in front of Juliana. “Did you eat any of this?”

“No.” Juliana shook her head.

“Thank God.” He rubbed his forehead. “Juliana, this is my friend Mazy. Would you take a journey with us?”

She looked at Mazy and then stared at him with large eyes.