Page 25 of Ties of Death

Exploring the grounds of Tolomon’s estate—our estate; I was still getting accustomed to thinking of it as such, even after a year—had been one of my few comforts. I also spent a decent amount of time with Tolomon when he was free. He always expected me to be available whenever he wanted me and grew irate when I wasn’t easily at his beck and call, claiming he only wanted to spend what little free time he had with me. Running an estate required a great deal of work. Not for me, which had come as a surprise, but lowland customs were different. I’d expected the matrons to help run things like they did in my clan, but the lowlanders had stewards for that.

It left me with too much free time. Free time I should have been using to pick up some sort of hobby. I had considered cooking, but the kitchen staff had been so uncomfortable around me I’d given it up quickly.

I just wanted a friend. In reality, I missed Daenn. There was no way anyone could replace him.

When we first married, I’d hoped to grow that close to Tolomon eventually. But it had been nearly a year, and it was clear to me he would never take that role. He didn’t care to hear my every inane thought like Daenn used to. He had no patience for my “turbulent feminine emotions,” as he called them. He expected me to entertain him how he wanted to be entertained and to bear him an heir—a duty I had sorely failed him in so far and about which his comments were getting more and more cutting.

I was desperate for companionship beyond my husband. Any companionship would have sufficed to help pass the time, even if it meant I had to talk about inanities.

I almost missed the door creaking over the sound of the rain. I looked up lazily. Perhaps Tolomon had finished his work early for the day, and he was coming to—

But it wasn’t Tolomon. A maid, a face I didn’t recognize, crossed the room, bearing a tray. She seemed young, around my age, unlike most of the staff here who had been with Tolomon’s family for decades and were even stiffer and more reserved with me than they were with him.

The maid curtsied, deftly balancing the tray as she did so. “Your tea things, my lady.” Her voice was sweet and soft.

“Here.” I rose, hands out to grab the tray. “I can take that.”

“Oh, no, my lady.” She sidestepped me and placed it on the table.

“Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Letta, my lady.” She kept her gaze lowered deferentially, creating a distance between us I’d grown accustomed to—and accustomed to hating—since coming to the lowlands.

I smiled, even though she wasn’t looking at me. “You may call me Emana.”

Her gaze shot up to me in surprise. “Oh, no, my lady. I couldn’t.”

“I’m not any older than you are, Letta, if my guess is right, and I’m not any nobler, either. Not by blood.” I suppose I was by dint of having married Tolomon, but my loneliness didn’t care about station. “Are you working in the kitchens?” I gestured to her grey apron. I’d only seen its like in the kitchens. The housemaids all wore white.

“Yes, my lady Emana.” She stumbled slightly over my name. “I just got the position last week.”

“Do you like it so far?” I moved to sit at the end of the settee and poured myself a cup of tea. “And would you like some tea? There’s more than enough here for both of us.”

She took a step back. “Oh, no, thank you. That wouldn’t be appropriate.”

I withheld a sigh. She had used my name, at least. That was a victory I would take. “Do you like it so far?” I asked again.

She gave a small shrug. “I like the money,” she said after a moment, as if unsure about giving such an honest answer.

I grinned. “I hope they pay you well, being the only person under the age of forty on the staff.”

A small smile lurked at the corner of her lips. Another victory.

“Where’d you come from before?” I didn’t recognize her accent.

“A small village near the southern border. We had to come north, for my mother —” She stopped, her cheeks pinking. “You don’t care about family gossip.”

“No.” I leaned toward her, stretching out one hand, before I remembered myself and lowered it. “Please, tell me. I don’t mind.”

She studied me for a moment, lips pursed, but maybe she saw the desperation in me, for she continued after a brief stretch of silence. “My mother is ill, and the only specialist for her particular case lives in Bristhorpe, so here we are. I’m not good at much, but I’m good in the kitchen, so it was fairly easy to get a position with the household.”

“I am sorry about your mother, but I hope they pay you enough to cover her medical fees—and I hope you enjoy working here.”

The smile she gave me was small but genuine. I couldn’t help but smile in return. Maybe here I’d finally found a friend. It didn’t sound like she would be going anywhere anytime soon.

“If you need anything—” I cut myself off as the door swung open.

Letta jumped. Tolomon strode in, stopping at the sight of me and the maid. I tensed.

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