“Blessed be You, Mother and Father of Life,” said Lady Elene.

“Blessed be You, Holy Mother,” whispered Anna into her hands.

“Blessed be You,” repeated Brother Heribert in his awkward voice.

Lord Berthold yawned.

Lord Jonas made no sound. He often fell asleep kneeling, eyes open.

Blessing gulped down a false sob, stifled under her blankets.

On the floor below, the trap thumped open, landing hard. Anna flinched, hands coming down. Berthold rose, and Blessing’s sniveling ceased.

“Blessed is the Country of the Mother and Father of Life, and of the Holy Word revealed within the Circle of Unity,” continued Elene stubbornly, ignoring the clatter of feet beneath, “now and ever and unto ages of ages.”

A cleric’s cowl appeared in the open trap. The woman climbed higher and revealed herself as Sister Mara, one of the Holy Mother’s faithful attendants. She looked around the room. After a moment, she climbed all the way up and spoke in whispers to Julia, who shook her head. They walked around the room and opened up both chests while Lady Elene kept praying as if they weren’t there. At last, Sister Mara left.

When prayers came to an end, Berthold said, “What was that all about?”

“Begging your pardon, my lady. My lord.” Julia rubbed her brow with the back of a hand, looking nervous. Normally she had a robust confidence, but she seemed tired after speaking with Sister Mara. “You’re to stay within today, all day. No garden.”

Elene raised an eyebrow and looked at Berthold, who shrugged.

Blessing popped up from the bed, unaware and unashamed of her nakedness, although by now she showed the signs of blossoming womanhood. “I don’t want to stay in.”

“Shut up, brat,” said Berthold gently. “Please cover yourself.”

“I don’t want—”

“Do shut up!” snapped Elene.

“I hate you!”

“I hate you, you evil creature! I’ll pinch your ears if you don’t stop whining.”

Blessing clapped hands over ears and huddled under the blankets until, sometime later, after the others had gone down to the lower floor to entertain themselves with chess and reading, Anna was able to coax her out.

“I don’t feel good,” whimpered the girl. “I got a cut on my leg.”

“How could have you gotten—” But it was no cut, of course. “Princess Blessing. Your Highness. Oh, dear.”

“Is anything amiss, Anna?” asked the servingwoman, Julia, from the window, where she sat and sewed.

“Sit down,” Anna said sternly, and Blessing sat crosslegged. A few drops of blood stained the bedding, but it wasn’t too bad. “I pray you, Julia, Princess Blessing is feeling poorly. Might you go down and ask the sergeant if we can have a posset, something to settle her stomach? It must be what she ate last night.”

Julia glanced sharply at her. Perhaps she suspected. Perhaps she had overheard, although Blessing had whispered. But she went leaving Anna and the child alone.

“Now, Your Highness, listen closely and listen well.”

“My tummy hurts.”

“I know it does. And so it will do, about once every month, for a good long while now.”