Vigora draped her head over Maud’s shoulder to sniff at the bushels of dried lavender. Maud tapped her nose before she could reach out with her long lips for a taste. Maud had her hand up to lift the strings of garlic to look over each bulb on it.

  “When will he hunt again, do you think?” Leta was setting small scent vessels that looked like little misshapen bells with etchings of swirls across them. Leta said the swirls were her mark so all would know it was she who made them. She popped a cork on one and held it up for Maud to smell. “Lilac and Rose with a dash of mint. It’s a favorite with the fisher wives.”

  “I like it,” Maud nodded.

  It was a bit strong for her, which made perfect sense. Everything smelled of fish now. Especially once the fishery was completed. Maud missed the smells of fresh cotton ready to be picked and wheat grain, the bloom of roses and summer peaches. “This week, for sure. I’ll make sure to save you a quarter at least. The rest, I need to salt cure for his trip.”

  Maud swatted Vigora again, this time for nearly knocking her over trying to reach another vendor’s apples. The vendor, Alexandra Greshon, only laughed and wiped one of the apples on her apron and held it for Vigora the way Maud had taught her. Vigora kneaded Alexandra’s graying brown hair until she got a good wad.

  “Vigora!” Maud wagged a finger at her.

  Vigora spat the wad out and looked at Maud as if she were offended by something. Maud shook her head as a warning. Vigora lowered her nose.

  “A trip you say?” Alexandra and Leta exchanged looks. “You certain he isn’t off to some harlot in Berone? Or worse, Baden.”

  “He is a northerner, after all,” Leta held up another perfume for Maud. Maud crinkled her nose at it. Leta lowered it with a press of the cork, and a disappointed, “I was trying something new.”

  “You need to grab hold of him and twist him into proposing!” Alexandra smiled a thank you to one of the migrant laborers who bought one of her apples. “How long is the man going to make you wait?”

  “No, that’s not—” Maud tried to interject.

  “You said he was buying you a new dress just for the asking. No man does that for just anyone,” Leta fluttered her lashes at her own husband, Greg, whose own fishy smell found Maud before he did. He didn’t lean for a kiss, but his eyes and mouth told the entire market he wanted it. He carried a box of clinking jars to behind the stand where Leta pointed. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

  “What?” Greg pulled two of the jars out after swatting away flies that had followed him. He went to put them on the stand. “Sure, yes. Whatever she says.”

  “Well trained,” Alexandra giggled. “Almost as well as mine.”

  “No, not there! With the fungus!” Leta shouted at him. She shook her head with hands on her hips, “Leave it to a man to think that putting fish oil beside perfume is a good idea.” Then to Alexandra, she gave a whip of her hair to dismiss the challenge. Back to Greg, “She asked Draka to buy her a dress.”

  “I was only joking,” Maud began pinching her arm to keep from shaking nervously. “Now that I think about it, it was dumb. I don’t want to go into the village, and certainly not to Balthazar’s shop.”

  “Did he say ‘yes’—or whatever he does?” Greg wiped his greasy hands on his trousers.

  Maud sunk back into Vigora’s chest so that Vigora draped her head over her to protect her. “Maybe. But still, that doesn’t mean—”

  “He’s planning to propose then,” Greg smiled widely. “No man buys a woman something like that if he doesn’t plan on seeing what’s beneath.”

  “We don’t see each other like that. We care about each other but not—you know—like that.”

  “Girl, you need to hike up that skirt and straddle him before too long or you’ll miss your chance. You’re not getting any younger, you know,” Alexandra said while smiling at a passing soldier so that he complimented her beauty and bought an apple.

  “Worked for Leta,” Greg shrugged. Leta slapped his shoulder and instantly regretted it with a crinkled nose and cross-eyed stare at her greasy hand. “What? I would’ve never known.”

  “It works,” Alexandra winked at her. “One miss and they practically drag you to the administrator.”

  “And he’s a Cathol,” Leta nudged Maud before rearranging the jars that Greg had set on the shelf. “Cathols always marry who they lay with.”

  “I’m headed back to the fishery,” Greg kissed Leta’s cheek, making her swoon.

  “What is wrong with you?” Maud blinked at the two women. “I’m not going to seduce him into marrying me. I don’t want to marry him. And I don’t have to.”

  “Everyone,” Alexandra leaned over her stand on her elbows and took a loud bite of a green apple, “Thinks you do and will.”

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  “The whole village knows you spend all your time at his home,” Leta mimicked Alexandra’s lean. “Some of the wives are talking.”

  Maud stiffened her jaw and leaned toward them with a fiery glare. Vigora leaned with her, matching her fury enough that both Leta’s and Alexandra’s eyes widened.

  Maud growled through gritted teeth, “Let them talk.”

  A silence hung between them, broken only by a boy offering Leta a copper for a small bushel of lavender. As he trotted away into the crowd, she touched Maud’s arm to calm her. “I know that you don’t care about appearances here…”

  “Appearances?” Maud resisted the urge to tug her arm away. Instead, she took a breath, “Why does everyone want it to be about marriage? He’s my guardian, I’m his ward. Not his plowing mistress, you mud-digging hags!”

  “How dare you call Alexandra a hag!” Leta straightened. “Those wrinkles are from sleepless nights, you know. She’s very weary of people knowing.”

  Alexandra gasped.

  Maud only rolled her eyes, “I meant both of you—” she shook it away, “I’m not going to marry Draka. That’s the end of it. And just because I feed him doesn’t mean…”

  “Feed, clothe, clean up after,” Leta crossed her arms at her.

  Alexandra shifted away, “Sounds to me like you’re already married.”

  Maud gaped at both of them, one then the other. She tried to think of what to say. Even Vigora was looking at her expectantly. She swore that Vigora looked disappointed in her as well.

  “What does your mother say about you spending all your time there?” Leta eyed her.

  Maud only eyed her back.

  Leta’s shoulders sunk. She pinched her mouth to one side and shook her head knowingly. “Still hasn’t come out.”

  “She started eating,” Maud gave her a glassy eyed smile. “It’s a start.”

  “I know my sister,” Leta embraced her warmly. “She’s stronger than the lot of us put together.”

  “I don’t know if I am,” Maud tucked her chin into Leta’s hair. “I’m so lost. If it wasn’t for Draka…”

  “He’s a good man and he’s doing his part,” Leta leaned back to look her in the face, emerald eyes piercing deep into her gaze, “But no man alive does what he has without wanting a wife or a child out of it.”

  “Draka does,” Maud wiped at her tears while brimming with pride. “I think he’ll do anything I want so long as I cook for him, to be honest. And this one,” she scratched Vigora’s neck.

  “Good,” Chloe, Alexandra’s eldest daughter, appeared from the crowd. “Then you won’t mind if I catch his eye.”

  “Be my guest,” Maud shrugged dismissively. Like Draka would want someone like her.

  Chloe was tall with round eyes that were a little too far apart and a shallow chin. Men seemed to like her bug eyes and pouty lips, as far as Maud could tell. The only thing that made most of the men shy from her, Maud assumed, was that she was taller than most of them. She could see above Draka’s head. It was the wide hips and broad bust that worried her. She might be reassured that Draka wouldn’t, but she felt it in her gut that it was only a matter of time before someone fully grasped his heart.

  And then what would she do? Maud tried not to show it, but Chloe winked at her before fading back into the crowd with a basket of apples from her mother.

  “Mhmm,” Leta raised a brow at her. “When you get that dress, make sure it’s a tight one.”

  “Right around here,” Alexandra ran a hand along the curve of her waist and hips.

  “I’m not—I mean, the dress isn’t—Oh, to the rivers with both of you!” Maud threw her hands at them and made her way to another stand.

  She didn’t care which one she was going to, so long as it got her away from both of them. Vigora led her toward Charlotte Greshon’s stand, where they had wood boxes of freshly threshed oats. Maud tried to lead her to a different one.

  “Maud?” She recognized Dalfur’s voice and froze in her steps. No matter how many times she saw him, the memory would not fade. She would always see the rage in him, the hate. “It’s good to…”

  Maud quickened her pace toward the stables, toward Draka.

  Vigora followed, half turned to keep an eye on Dalfur. When he started to approach again, she lifted one of her hind legs but Maud calmed her. With how high she had seen Vigora leap, she could only imagine what that kick would do to him. He, too, could see what the mare would do to him if he came any closer to Maud. He faded back into the crowd and Maud heaved a breath of relief.

  “Miss Maudeline,” Pierre said from behind her, giving her a start. She turned a sharp glare at the slight steward. He gulped and adjusted his red felt skullcap nervously. “I was hoping we might speak a moment.”

  Maud crossed her arms at him. Vigora was too fixated on the horses eyeing her from their stables. Pierre gulped and pulled his red cloak to cover his black tunic. Maud cocked her brow expectantly.

  “The Prince has informed me that we are to begin your studies tomorrow,” Pierre said.

  Maud narrowed her eyes. He gulped again. He was shaking under her gaze. A part of her liked that. What is he talking about?

  Pierre took a step, “I suppose he didn’t say anything to you about it. That’s fine. I was informed only a few minutes ago, myself. In fact, he interrupted my own, personal studies to tell me. Either way, I do as I am commanded. We will begin tomorrow. Now, I would prefer we meet at your home, since it is closer and less of a hassle for me, but the Prince intends to be present for your first lesson. So we will meet tomorrow at his.”

  Maud blinked at him, dumbfounded.

  Pierre was emboldened, “Good. Yes, well, glad for us to begin this. I imagine that the Grande Prince has great expectations for you and I consider it my personal ambition to ensure that you surpass them.”

  The plowing rivers did he say? Maud gaped. After he walked back up the stairs toward the middle door on the balcony, she tried to remember what he had said and make sense of it. She didn’t know what half the words meant. But if it made Draka happy…