“Æthelgifu demanded. “You haven’t been there for two nights in a row.” “I was here. I didn’t feel well.” Stonily Flæd drew a long gown of rust-colored wool over her head, but she felt the ice inside her begin to soften a little. She knew her sister wanted her to share in her earnest prayers each evening, but she was sure that thin Dove also appreciated the warmth of a larger body kneeling beside her in the frigid chapel. “You said you would help me make a stick horse today!” Ælfthryth accused, w...riggling away from a woman who struggled to put a comb to the little girl’s wild blond hair. “You said you would!” “I did say that, little elf.” Now Flæd’s composure was melting away in earnest. She imagined herself for a moment making the toy for Ælf to ride, fastening dry grass along a green stick of willow to make a mane, with a tuft of long rushes at the other end for a tail—all under the watchful eye of her warder, the man named Red. Flæd hugged the little girl to hide the dismay she suddenly felt.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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