“I know wretcheds are not allowed,” Lia whispered. “But the Aldermaston said I could. Is each room like this?” she asked, seeing past the archway mid-wall into the next square room.

Marciana nodded, her eyes alight with eagerness. “There are far more tomes here than at Billerbeck. I am scribing lines from Ovidius today. A different translation than the one I read last year. Though Colvin is impressed with Muirwood’s collection, and that is not easy, he chooses to study elsewhere.” She frowned. “Here comes the Aldermaston and the Queen Dowager. I will speak with you later. I am with Ellowyn at that table.”

Lia dared not move past the threshold of the doorway, completely bedazzled by the countless stacks of tomes, the glitter of the aurichalcum, the immense collection of wisdom pervading the room. The feeling of the Medium was rich in the air. The collection had been growing for hundreds of years.

“There you are,” the Aldermaston said, his eyes intense with anger. “I was just telling the Queen Dowager that it was a foolish idea to hunt today, and here you arrive fitted to weather a storm. It is madness hunting in such foul weather. Madness.”

The Queen Dowager’s voice was silken. “Your hunter is not afraid of a little wet, Aldermaston. It is always raining in this Hundred, no?” Pareigis was dressed in black velvet still, another design than the gown she had arrived in, with silver trim and a wreath of jewels around her throat. The bodice of her gown was scandalously low-cut.

Lia knew the Aldermaston’s thoughts. She could tell by his expression what he wanted. “My lady, I came to tell the Aldermaston of your request, as given me by the Earl of Dieyre. I will go if he commands me, but I would not trust horses in weather like this. And with the mud, we will not get far afoot.”

“In Dahomey, we ride in weather worse than this,” she said, her voice hardening.

“As I said, I will go if the Aldermaston commands me. But I do not recommend it.”

The Aldermaston’s eye glimmered. “I agree, Lia. I do not advise it. It is not safe to venture far beyond the grounds now.”

“Safe?” the Queen Dowager demanded. “What do you mean?”

“My hunter informed me of riders prowling the woods behind the Abbey proper. They may still be out there. Obviously they could not be your men, Queen Dowager. That would be in defiance of my authority since the grounds extend a great distance beyond the walls as you well know. They extend out as far as the Bearden Muir. I trust these marauders will move on, but why tempt them with a highborn target such as yourself? It would be safer to remain in the Abbey until the rain clears.”

Lia almost smirked at the Aldermaston’s subtle message. It was clear to her that he suspected the riders she and Colvin had discovered were Paregis’ men. If she took responsibility for them, he could claim she was in defiance of his authority and expel her.

Her nose flared and she studied him with a calculating eye, measuring her response carefully. “It is surprising that you trust your defenses into the hands of a young girl, Aldermaston. Should these roving thieves and bandits grow bold, what would happen?”

The Aldermaston smiled threateningly. “You have not heard then, Queen Dowager, of the history of the Abbey’s defenses? There is a hill nearby as a reminder of what happens to those who trespass this ground.”

“I have heard of that hill…and its stories,” she replied charmingly. “I do not believe them.”

“You may believe what you will. But I would not risk your safety or any of your men’s wandering without the grounds. She does know how to use the bow, after all.”

“I imagine she was trained well by her master.” The voice was silken but full of venom. She turned to Lia. “What wood do you use for a bow?”

“Ash,” Lia replied.

“You fletch your own arrows as well? Or does someone in the village?”

“We do our own.”

Pareigis’ eyebrows lifted with admiration. “May I see one?”

Lia glanced at the Aldermaston, uncertain what to do. He nodded subtly. Slowly, she parted her cloak and withdrew a single arrow. The Queen Dowager looked at it closely.

“The best fletchers are Pry-rian,” she said, turning the shaft slowly, examining the feathering. “The threading ties like this, the way yours is. Are you Pry-rian, girl?”

Before Lia could respond, the Aldermaston said, “The hunter who trained her is. Why do you ask?”

The Queen Dowager’s eyes met the Aldermaston and an impish smile came across her mouth. “My lord husband was killed by a Pry-rian arrow. The fletching was like this.”