Page 299 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

is with the tide unto an other brought:

For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.

—Edmund Spenser

66

West

Her world had become a night without stars. It was sleep, but not-sleep; a boundless darkness, settled by one soul. She had been chained here for a thousand years, but now, at last, she stirred.

A golden sun seared to life within her. As the fire sloughed off her skin, she remembered the bite of the cruel sister. She could see the outlines of faces all around her, but their features were unclear.

“Ead.”

She felt sculpted from marble. Her limbs cleaved to the bed, as an effigy was bound forever to the tomb. In the dark spots in her vision, somebody was praying for her soul.

Ead, come back to us.

She knew that voice, the scent of cicely, but her lips were stone and would not part.

Ead.

New warmth fired deep in her bones, burning away the bounds that imprisoned them. The calyx that surrounded her cracked and, at last, the heat opened her throat.

“Meg,” she whispered, “I believe this is the second time I have found you nursing me.”

A choked laugh. “Then you should stop giving me cause to nurse you, silly goose.” Margret folded her into her arms. “Oh, Ead, I feared this wretched fruit might not work—” She turned to her servants. “Send word at once to Her Majesty that Lady Nurtha is awake. Doctor Bourn, too.”

“Her Majesty is in council, Lady Margret.”

“I assure you that Her Majesty will have you all gelded if this is kept from her. Go, now.”

Wretched fruit.Ead realized what Margret had said and looked over her shoulder. On the nightstand was an orange with a bite taken out of it. Drunken sweetness roiled her senses.

“Meg.” Her throat was so dry. “Meg, tell me you did not go to the Priory on my account.”

“I’m not fool enough to think I could fight my way through a house of dragonslayers.” Margret kissed the top of her head. “You might not believe in the Saint, but a higher power must have a care for you, Eadaz uq-Nara.”

“Indeed. The higher power of Lady Margret Beck.” Ead grasped her hand. “Who brought the fruit?”

“That,” Margret said, “is a wondrous tale. And I will tell it to you as soon as you’ve had some caudle.”

“Is there anything you think that foul stuff doesn’t cure?”

“Cankers. Otherwise, no.”

It was Tallys who brought the caudle to her bed. Upon seeing Ead, she burst into tears.

“Oh, Mistress Duryan,” she sobbed. “I thought you were going to die, m’lady.”

“Not quite yet, Tallys, despite efforts to the contrary.” Ead smiled. “How lovely it is to see you again.”

Tallys curtsied several times before retreating. Margret closed the door behind her.

“Now,” Ead said to Margret, “I am drinking my caudle. Tell me everything.”

“Three more mouthfuls, if you please.”

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