Not at all, I suspect, Farilane thought as her heart trotted. She wasn’t scared. Monks were docile people, but as with any bet, there was excitement. She had bluffed. Now came the wait. Are you going to rebuke, accept, or maybe just guffaw your head off? I know I would. It’s obvious I’m not a Prudence, and Kile is wearing a scholar’s robes and clearly isn’t my type. The only one who fits his role is Sheldon. Shelly the footman, valet, or hired hand; I really should settle on one.

“How long were you in the wood?”

Farilane was so pleased at the question that indicated he’d swallowed her bait that she almost missed the odd tone. Rather than sympathy, his question was laced with concern, perhaps even fear.

She looked to Kile. “Three days, was it?” She needed her mute husband to assert himself a tad or the charade wouldn’t hold.

“Yes . . . three days . . . I believe . . . and two nights.”

“You must be famished.” The abbot spoke this time with the proper sympathy, but underneath and around the edges of those words Farilane still sensed a bit of apprehension. Her notion was confirmed by the way the abbot then looked to the forest as if the trees were closer than before.

Chapter 11: Dibben

Chapter Eleven
Dibben

Not a single monk other than the abbot spoke to them. They didn’t talk much to each other, either. When they did, the conversations were short and delivered via whispers. After brief introductions to the monks, the abbot gave a series of orders by way of hand gestures and words spoken so softly that even Farilane’s myr ears managed to catch only six: hildreth, sunrise nook, vespers, supper, and thorlac. Farilane had no guess at hildreth or thorlac. Vespers, she’d heard of before and believed it was something monks did or performed routinely. Sunrise nook, she was fairly certain was a place—and a pleasant, cozy-sounding one. But it was the word supper, that she found to be the most welcome. Supper was how the monks and other rustic folk referred to an evening meal. Not as big as the midday dinner, supper often consisted of a sup—a stew or soup—created from the leftovers of the earlier feast. Farilane didn’t care what they called it. She simply hoped to be invited.