Later, when they found the bull and cow in two separate fields, Phaedra saw Orly’s relief and Lotte’s sadness.
‘It’s your people,’ Orly snapped at Phaedra as he placed a plank across the stable door. ‘Coming up this mountain and making mischief.’
Phaedra walked away, but made it as far as the stone hedge of their land before returning, walking straight into their cottage where husband and wife were warming their hands over the fire.
‘Firstly, I’m not an idiot girl,’ she said firmly, ‘so don’t call me one again, and secondly, my people don’t have the strength for mischief. The only thing they have the strength for is breathing. And another thing. If a bull went missing every morning amongst the people of my province, neighbours would help each other. Where are your people now, Orly of the Monts? What kind of place is this if the only help you can find is from an idiot girl who belongs to your enemy?’
Phaedra turned and walked straight into Lucian who stood at the entrance of Orly’s cottage, staring at the three of them, a bear of a man in his coat of fleece and his fierce dark eyes. No one spoke and he stepped aside. Phaedra bristled at the silent order. Her Mont husband wanted her out of his sight.
When she reached the stone hedge for the second time that morning, Lucian was there beside her. ‘Now let me do the counting,’ he said and suddenly she felt the weight of his fleece on her shoulders and a comfort beyond imagining because it was his gruff voice that warmed her as much as his coat. ‘Firstly, these are the mountains, Phaedra. People freeze in winter up here, so you don’t leave the cottage in all hours of the morning wearing a shawl to protect you from the cold. Understood?’
She could smell the bread wafting out from the baker’s cottage. The Monts were finally beginning to awaken, the start of another miserable day for Phaedra.
‘Secondly, Orly’s bull is my problem, not yours. Understood?’
Phaedra didn’t respond.
‘And thirdly, you’ll have to forgive my people. They are still grieving their leader.’
She stopped and looked up at him. ‘Their leader is living,’ she said firmly. ‘He’s standing in front of me and the only person in this mountain who is not acknowledging him these days is the leader himself.’
Phaedra saw Lucian’s fury first and then she saw his eyes water. Was it from the cold bite of the morning air or something else?
‘I’ll never be as good as him,’ he said. ‘They know that. We all know that.’
She shook her head. ‘Speak the truth, Lucian.’
‘What truth?’ he asked angrily.
‘You don’t want him here because of the mistakes you think you’re making. You want him here because you loved him and he’s gone and you can’t say those words out loud.’
He stared down at her, but Phaedra refused to look away. And then he moved closer, his lips close to her ears as though he was afraid the mountain itself would hear his words.
‘Sometimes … I miss him so much I can barely breathe.’
He joined them in the valley later that day and Phaedra took him for a tour of the caves. He was polite and attentive to all he met, including Kasabian and Harker who she felt Lucian was trying hard to impress after Jory’s reports about how cold and unforgiving the men of the valley were to Mont lads. Phaedra could tell her Mont husband liked Kasabian best. Kasabian reminded Phaedra of her own father and he was gentle in a way that his sister Cora wasn’t. But Cora was trustworthy and worked hard. Both were good people who Phaedra believed had much to offer Lumatere if they were ever allowed to enter.
After a brief, terse conversation with Donashe and his camp leaders, Phaedra took Lucian to Cora’s cave. There was always tension in that dwelling because Cora disliked Florenza and Jorja. She believed they had airs and graces despite their journey and referred to them as the Ladies of the Sewer. There was a lazy girl named Ginny, who Cora called Lady Lazy Muck. Cora had a name for everyone.
‘I want to be placed with my brother,’ she snapped.
‘You know they’ll never allow that, Cora,’ Phaedra said patiently.
There was a new woman in the cave. An older woman who came from the north and never stopped speaking. Yet no one understood a word she spoke.
‘Dialect,’ Phaedra explained to Lucian.
‘Her mouth never stops,’ Cora muttered.
The woman from the north spoke to Lucian, and Phaedra wanted to giggle, watching him nod seriously. ‘Hmm, yes,’ he would say every once in a while.
Outside he stared at Phaedra, slightly stunned.
‘If you ever take me into that cave again, I’ll lock you up with my great-aunts,
‘You would not enjoy that, Phaedra,’ Jory piped up, as they walked back to the Lumateran side of the stream.
‘Rafuel said the same about that cave,’ Phaedra laughed. ‘He calls it the cave of she-devils. The women hate him most of all.’
‘They don’t hate me,’ Jory boasted. ‘I can charm Angry Cora. She says she hates idiots and everyone she meets is an idiot.’
When they reached the stream, Lucian grabbed Phaedra around the waist, lifting her over the water so her feet wouldn’t get wet. She had seen him do the same thing with his Mont cousins and Tesadora. Phaedra’s face flamed when he did it for her, so absently.
‘You’re a good spy too,’ Lucian said to her. ‘Except spies usually have more important subjects than women named Lady Lazy Muck and Angry Cora and the Ladies of the Sewer.’
She found herself laughing again and he looked at her strangely.
‘You don’t do that enough,’ he said quietly.
It was strange what Phaedra became used to living amongst the Monts. She liked their directness and lack of pretence. She liked the way they worshipped in the open at shrines that could be planted at the side of the road wherever someone pleased, rather than godshouses that were built thousands upon thousands of years ago. She liked having her hair braided by
‘I had granddaughters with eyes as pretty as yours once,’ the old woman said sadly, and Phaedra knew she was speaking of the Queen’s sisters who were slain in the palace all those years ago.
What Phaedra didn’t like was their food. It was very plain and it lacked taste.
Finnikin of Lumatere, his father and Perri the Savage were visiting one night with Tesadora, and the Consort noticed Phaedra’s lack of appetite.
‘Best food I ever had was in Yutlind,’ he said.
‘The best food in the land is in Paladozza,’ Phaedra insisted.
‘You’ve been there?’ he asked with excitement.
She nodded. ‘The Provincaro invited my father during one of Charyn’s very brief moments of peace between the Provincari. He is very handsome, De Lancey of Paladozza is.’
‘Then why didn’t your father marry you to him?’ Lucian asked, sharply.
‘Because he’s old. Nearing at least forty-five years.’
The Captain and Perri looked up, mid-mouthful, and exchanged looks. Tesadora laughed at their reaction.
‘Regardless, the Provincaro De Lancey loves the company of women, but not in his bed,’ Phaedra said.
‘Ahhh,’ they all said, intrigued.
It was late in the night when everyone left. The Consort and the Captain were staying in
‘They asked quite some questions tonight,’ Lucian said from his bed. ‘I never know what they’re up to.’
‘Should the valley dwellers be worried?’ she asked.
‘No, but I get a sense that my cousin Isaboe wants to travel down the mountain again, so perhaps Trevanion and Perri are ensuring it is safe for her.’
‘If they won’t allow Tesadora amongst Donashe and his men, I can’t imagine them permitting the Queen.’
Lucian gave a short laugh. ‘The Queen doesn’t wait for permission.’
