“Actually,” Ruby said, reaching for her bottle of water. “I’d like to talk.”

“Oh, Lord.”

Ruby bit back a laugh. “Come on. I told you about my life. Tell me about yours. Give me some of that context you were talking about.”

Bennett blew out a breath and got comfortable. “Fine. What would you like to know?”

“Anything. Everything,” Ruby said, shrugging. “Let’s start with where you grew up. I mean, clearly, you’re well educated, so I’m assuming you were the daughter of someone important.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth. My parents were illiterate peasants who’d come from a long line of illiterate peasants. They were farmers and rented a small plot of land on the acreage owned by a lord. They worked from dawn to dusk to put food on the table and pay the rent and taxes due. And as we grew up, they taught us to do the same.”

“We?”

“I had four brothers. Two older and two younger,” Bennett said. “And while they were out tending to the crops, I was working alongside my mother, learning how to do all the things expected of a woman back then. She showed me how to prepare a meal and cook our morning pottage, and how to go into the forest to collect herbs and berries we’d need for either food or medicine. She taught me how to weave, sew, and mend clothes, take care of our chickens and geese, and, of course, carry bucket after bucket of water from the stream.”

“Gosh, that sounds like awfully hard work for a kid.”

“Yes, it was, but it’s all we knew. We had no expectations, no dreams of a better life. There was no formal education in our future. Each day was almost identical to the last. We woke. We worked. We slept, and then we did it all over again. You know, it’s said that the youth of today grows up too quickly, yet back then, the skin of some children weathered even before they escaped puberty,” Bennett said, shaking her head. “There were moments of fun, though, times when my brothers and I could escape to the forest to play. My parents were good that way, never demanding so much that we lost every ounce of our childhood, although we did lose most.

“And, like our parents, we couldn’t read or write. We weren’t aware of other lands, customs, or people beyond what we heard when all the peasants came together for a meal or celebration. It was then when stories would be told, tall tales of castles, monsters, and riches. It was during one of those celebrations when I met Warrick.”

“Who’s Warrick?”

“He was my husband.”

“You were married?” Ruby blurted.