“SO IT’S IN THREE DAYS. AND I SHOULD MAYBE GO.” She tried not to bite her lower lip. Auntie had gone still, the pot on the stove bubbling. The old woman’s hair had grown thicker, longer, and more tangled, if that were possible, and the twigs and leaves caught in its wild mess struggled to poke free. If I go, maybe he won’t tell. Or maybe . . . I don’t know. She did know, that was the trouble. She wanted to go, to see him. “I don’t have anything to wear, but I can fix that. I might go to ...Southking and get a bolt of something, make a dress. I can charm . . . Laurissa’s a couturière, so I know how to do cloth and shoes. What do you think?” Her words petered out. A pounding in her chest echoed in her wrists and ankles, and why was she sweating? Auntie wasn’t like Laurissa. “A fête?” The old woman sounded puzzled. “But Columba will return, yes?” “Of course.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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