Page 104 of Heart of Snow
My legs hardly felt the fatigue of the long climb up the stairway and out of the chapel into the cold, starlit night. I took a deep breath of the crisp air, cleansing my lungs of decay and clearing my head enough that the hissing faded into oblivion, leaving only the buzz of a sound blow to the skull.
We slipped through streets to retrieve a horse that looked very much like one from Father’s stables in Wildungen. Friedrich helped me up, settling me on his lap and wrapping his arms around my waist as I took the reins. I leaned into his warmth.
“Are you ready?” His breath tickled my ear.
“I’m ready,” I answered. “Let us find our new home.”
Epilogue
Margaretha
Five Months Later
Feathers already clung to mydamp, exposed arms as I lifted the downy chicken from the boiling pot. I hung it by its feet, waiting for the plumage to cool enough for handling, and was plucking my first fistful when a rattle at the door announced Friedrich. He was struggling with the infernal handle, as usual.
I shook my head with a smile. “Push down hard before you turn it.”
After more finagling, he got it, ducking his head as he walked into our little cottage. I dropped the feathers into the bucket and rested the half-plucked chicken across my lap, watching him stomp snow off his boots.
When he looked up, his eyes crinkled with his smile. “You’re plucking a chicken?”
I pulled another handful of feathers. “Don’t act surprised. You’ve seen me do it before.”
“Yes, only never in the house.” He scooted a few feathers with his boot. “It isn’t really an indoor activity.”
“Yes, well, it was cold outside.” I ignored the flush of embarrassment. “And anyhow, you’re late.”
“I was delayed by news.” He came to warm his hands at the fire.
I admired my husband’s handsome profile before tugging at the chicken once more. “What news?”
“It’s about Vesalius.”
My hand froze with a fistful of wet feathers, and I looked at Friedrich with worried eyes.
“Not dead.” He shook his head, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I owed the man more than my life. Considering his counsel to Friedrich, I owed him my very happiness.
“Apparently enough time has passed for the kaiser’s anger to cool, and Vesalius’s sentence was commuted. He’s on pilgrimage to Jerusalem as we speak.”
“Saints be praised.” I dropped more feathers into the bucket and took up another handful, but from the corner of my eye, I could see Friedrich still watching me.
“Was there more?” I asked.
“There is something...” He lifted his coat to reach into his jerkin. “Wilhelm gave me this.” Friedrich held out a letter with my familial seal. “It’s from Samuel.”
My stomach wriggled with nerves. I wasn’t ready.
“I can’t read it now. I’m filthy.” My plucking turned aggressive.
Friedrich twisted out of his coat, throwing it and his cap over the back of a chair. “Then I’ll read it for you.”
“This isn’t the best ti—”
He snapped the seal and unfolded the letter, his voice drowning out my protests.
“Dearest Retie,
Your letter arrived just in time. Father had ordered your maid packing for her accusations against our wicked stepmother, but at your word, there was nothing he could do but believe. Despite her pleas, Belinda is now a prisoner in Castle Höhnscheid, where she can don red iron shoes and dance with the devil all she likes.
