“I don’t know,” said Viri. “She was whisper-yelling. Are you staying all day? It’s Wednesday. We have outside exercise on Wednesday and we could make a snow keep.”

“I know,” said Erita importantly. “He’s a slut with no self-control.”

“What?” said Lovisa, choking on her tea.

“He put his dirty fingers on something he didn’t deserve,” said Erita.

“You heard her say that?” said Viri, awed.

“Yes. You were in the bath.”

“What did he put his fingers on?”

“Something he didn’t deserve,” Erita repeated, stressing each syllable significantly. “I already said.”

“But what does that mean?” said Viri. “What didn’t he deserve? Did he steal?”

“I thought maybe he touched her fox. Mother is weird about her fox.”

“But maybe he had to touch it,” said Viri as a shape appeared in the doorway over his shoulder. It was their mother. Lovisa went cold. Not seeing her, Viri said, “Sometimes you have to touch the fox, like, if he’s in the way, or if he’s bringing you a letter from Mother. Are you staying all day, Lovisa?” he repeated. “And what’s a slut?”

“Yes, please,” said the calm and precise voice of Ferla. “Tell us what a slut is, Lovisa.”

The boys turned, startled, to look at her. Her expression was closed, almost haughty, and her hair was pulled back from her forehead as tightly as usual. She wore a sweeping coat of brown and silver fur, as if she were already on her way out, and her blue fox sat in her hood, peeking over her shoulder. The fox’s gold eyes watched Lovisa steadily.

Lovisa swallowed. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

“And I’m sure you do,” said Ferla. “Answer your brother. He wants to know what a slut is.”

“I don’t,” said Viri in a tiny voice. “It’s okay, Mother. I don’t want to know.”

“I distinctly heard you asking, Viri,” said Ferla. “Are you too cowardly to hear the answer? Ask your sister again.”

Now Viri was crying. “What’s a slut,” he said to his plate, wiping tears from his face.

“Ask the question as if you’re curious, Viri. The first time you asked, you sounded curious. And ask it of your sister, not of your plate, because I’m certain she knows.”

Viri was crying harder now, his breath squeaky and desperate. His fingers had crawled to his mouth. Lovisa sat perfectly still, knowing that if she did or said anything that deviated from her mother’s script, it would probably make things worse for Viri.

Ferla crossed the room and slapped Viri’s face. His crying turned to a scream. “Take him away,” she said in a disgusted voice to a frightened-looking attendant, who helped Viri up and rushed him out of the room. Lovisa guessed he would spend the day alternating between vomiting and hysterics.