To the Lady Born
“Sister Teresita stuck her head inside the hot, smoky kitchen. “He is here again.”
Amalie looked up from the carrots she was preparing for the evening meal. She was flushed rosy from the heat, a heavy kerchief on her head keeping her blond hair back from her face and scratchy garments of rough wool covered her tender body. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, knowing what Sister Teresita meant without much explanation.
“De Royans?” she asked the obvious.
Sister Teresita nodded. “He has come bearing gifts again.” The woman came into the kitchen, eyeing the young woman who had become her friend over the past few months. “He says he is not leaving until he sees you.”
A brief flash of pain crossed Amalie’s features before she turned back to her carrots, washing the dirt from them in the bucket of fresh water she had just brought in from the well.
“He always says that,”
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