Page 7 of Lily of the Valley

"Scout. Just Scout. Ain't nobody's mistress," Scout said brusquely. "Who are you, then?"

Lily started to reply, then froze. Giving her real name would be the height of stupidity. "Aubrey. Brey, if you prefer." That was her middle name, and common enough. "Where am I?"

Grunting, Scout moved further into the cabin, setting down what appeared to be some recently killed hares before going to stoke the fire. She was a handsome woman, broad and solid like an oak tree. Her skin was white, but heavily tanned, which made sense. Her hair was cut as short as any man's, barely long enough to get a grip on, though what a strange and errant thought that was. Lily couldn't see the color of her eyes, but they were probably brown or something equally as rustic and woodsy as the rest of her. "You're in the Laughing Forest, girl. Right near the heart of it. What foolishness brought you out here to nearly get yourself killed?"

"Foolishness?" Lily said, bristling. "You act like I want to be here, like I chose to be chased down by a bunch of nasty, cretinous wolves after they—they attacked the royal palace and all of us had to run for our lives."

Scout turned sharply, her eyes almost seeming to flare with blue light for a moment, but that made no sense. It must be some strange trick of the light. "What do you mean, wolves? A pack of wolves?"

"A pack of men," Lily replied bitterly. "They're called the Black Wolves. Murdered the king, other people. I was there when it happened, and ran before they could kill me too." There. That was close to the truth, so she didn't have to keep track of lies, without revealing anything about herself that would put her in danger.

"That's quite the tale," Scout replied.

Lily drew herself up, shoulders back, chin up, ignoring all the pain that screamed in protest of her movements. "It's not a tale."

"We'll see." Rolling up her sleeves, Scout retrieved the rabbits and vanished through the door next to the fireplace.

Of all the nerve.

Forget this. She didn't need to stay here and be treated like some liar. Why would she lie about something like that? What would she possibly gain from making up such a wild, easily disproven tale? Her father was dead and this— this— this arrogant little huntsman or whatever she was thought she was lying.

Sniffling, hands shaking, Lily pushed away the stupid, ugly quilt she was sick of looking at anyway and slid from the bed.

She bit back a scream as she put her weight on her feet. It was like walking on hot nails.

Better than being dead. Better than being here one minute longer. Hobbling-stumbling across the room, using the foot of the bed for support as long as she could, she reached the door and pulled it open—and nearly fell right on her ass as she hit a particularly painful spot on her right foot.

She bit her cheek so hard against crying out she tasted blood. Well, what was one more injury?

"What in the gods' names do you think you're doing?"

Righting herself as best she could, Lily turned around slowly and painfully and replied, "Not staying where I'm not wanted. Certainly not staying where someone thinks I'm a flagrant liar."

Scout narrowed her eyes. "So you're going to, what, go back to bleeding to death in the forest? Become food for wild animals? Surely there is a touch more sense than that in your pretty little head."

Lily bristled. "Are you always this rude to your guests?"

"You're not a guest, you're an intrusion," Scout replied, folding her arms across her not inconsiderable chest. She probably wouldn't have broken ribs running into a tree.

Was it really so much to ask that somebody be nice to her? She'd just watched her father get murdered, for crying out loud. "My apologies, Mistress. The next time I'm running for my life, I'll be certain to be carried away unconscious by someone else." Turning away, sucking in a sharp breath as she hit that really bad spot again, she resumed walking—

And jumped as thunder cracked so hard she felt it in her teeth, and the entire cabin rattled. The jump, of course, did nothing for her various pains, which struck all at once, so bright and sharp she sank to the ground, one arm wrapped around her ribs as if that would help, the other still clinging to the open door.

Footsteps. A soft sigh. Then surprisingly gentle arms scooped her up and carried her back to the bed, got her settled. "Stay there," Scout said gruffly, then went to shut the door before striding over to the fireplace and swinging a kettle over the flames.

Lily watched her work, fussing about the place making tea and doing little chores, while outside the ominous thunder had turned into a driving storm. What if she'd been caught out in this? Lily shuddered.

However rude her reluctant host, it was more painfully clear than her stubbornness had wanted to admit that she had no choice but to stay. At least until she could walk again. Then even the wind wouldn't move as quickly as she would fleeing this dreary cabin.

She stared at her hands again, the smatter of bruises, cuts that would scar. Not the hands of a lady. Of a queen. The hands of someone still alive, though.

The sound of footsteps jerked her head up, and she watched, not without trepidation, as Scout approached her with a small tray bearing tea and something that smelled like meat and barley. "Eat, you'll need your strength before you can go flouncing off into woods that have killed men three times your size in less than five minutes." There was the barest hint of curve to her mouth as she spoke. Teasing, she was teasing Lily.

Picking up the tea, Lily replied, "I don't think it counts as flouncing when I couldn't even stay upright."

Scout laughed. "It was a valiant attempt, milady. Eat up, get some more rest. I'm going to go butcher those hares. Yell if you need something."

"Thank you," Lily said. "I really do appreciate your help."

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