They came to the chambers that had been turned over to the Thurston family; the set above were for Juliet Thurston and her son. She’d noticed how strained relations still were between Mrs. Thurston and her daughter-in-law, largely smoothed over by the grandson. That this suite was theirs alone was a mark of favor given how crowded Castle Goldendale was, even if it did mean the two girls were sleeping on truckle beds in this sitting room.

It was a pleasant enough chamber, shaped like a wedge of pie since it was in a circular tower, with plastered walls painted in hunting scenes. The location also made it easy to guard. There was no way in except through the outer gate, the keep gate, and then a guarded portal at the base. None of the windows were big enough for even a very small and lithe assassin to climb through.

The staff had set out a cold collation for them; regular dining in Hall had gone by the board, with everything upset by the mobilization. She’d heard someone grumble that they were all grazing like a herd, wherever they found a moment.

“Oh, good,” Shawonda said. “I’m starved, but in weather like this a regular cooked meal makes you feel so logy and stuffed afterwards.”

Yseult flipped off the white linen cloth. “Let’s eat!” the sisters said in chorus, and took off the covers.

There was sliced ham, roast quail, potatoes done with garlic and herbs, a salad of roasted peppers and sweet Walla Walla onions and cauliflower dressed with oil and vinegar, another of greenstuffs, along with good manchet bread and a big apricot tart with cream. The girls waited while she said grace, then ate with what she recognized as good manners of a very old-fashioned sort, and enthusiasm.

Janie grinned and rubbed her hands after she’d loaded her plate. Yseult poured them all a glass of white wine. Janie paused and looked at hers a little dubiously.

“Am I allowed to drink wine?” she said.

“Well, some,” Yseult said, surprised again.

Wine was what you drank with food, unless you had beer, which was slightly plebian. This wasn’t anything special, just ordinary drinkable wine decanted from a cask to a carafe and sent up from the kitchens.

I knew they were from a different country, but it’s like they’re from a different time. I knew Boise clung to the old ways, but I didn’t expect so much.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because I’m sort of young?” Janie said.

“You’re what . . . eleven?” Yseult said.

“Since June.”

“Well, I started drinking wine when I came out of the nursery . . . when I was six. Watered at first, of course. But don’t worry, I won’t let you get drunk!”

Janie nodded a little dubiously, sipped, made an interested sound but switched to the cool water instead.