“Oh. Supper?”
The door creaked open and Kyla hesitantly put her head around. She was flushed with excitement.
“Not exactly. The Abbess is back. She’s back early, and Senga told her about ye. She wants to see ye.”
Freya’s heart sank. She’d hoped for a day or two at least to compose herself, to brace herself for the meeting with the terrifying Abbess and her tactfully phrased orders to leave the convent as soon as possible.
I didn’t even want to come here. Now I’m here, and I don’t want to leave. What sort of cruel trick is this?
“N-Now?” Freya stammered, sitting up properly.
She’d taken off her boots, which were sitting in the corner of the room, muddy and untidy.
Kyla nodded urgently. “Now. And I’d hurry if I were ye—she’s not a patient woman.”
Chapter 4
Mother Superior
Freya couldn’t hold back a flutter of nerves as she followed Kyla down the narrow corridors.
“Am I in trouble?” she asked, more than once. What she really meant, of course, was,Will I have to leave?
Kyla always glanced over her shoulder, smiling quizzically.
“No, of course not.”
They reached a heavy wooden door that seemed identical to all the other wooden doors in the corridor, except that this one had a few stools and chairs placed outside, ostensibly as a waiting area. Kyla flashed a smile at Freya, then knocked on the door.
“Enter,” came a deep, female voice from inside.
Kyla gestured for Freya to step inside, which she did.
Freya had expected Kyla to come in with her, so she flinched when the door closed firmly, leaving her alone in the room.
It was a large room, with no more decoration than the other rooms she’d seen so far, with one exception; there were several framed pictures of biblical characters on the walls. Some were sketches, little more than a collection of lines, while others were ornate painted masterpieces. There were numerous bookshelves against the walls, heavy with books and manuscripts. A largedesk, laden with papers, dominated the room. Behind it sat a nun.
No, not a nun. TheAbbess.
Freya had encountered powerful people before. They always liked you to understand justhowpowerful and busy they were. Whenever she entered her father’s study at home, he would spend several minutes scribbling something while she waited in silence, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, while he decided when he was ready to speak to her.
The Abbess, it seemed, did not need to resort to such tactics.
“Ah, here ye are,” she said, her voice gravelly and deeper than Freya had expected. “Sit down, please.”
Freya sat. She eyed the Abbess carefully. The woman appeared to be in her late fifties, head covered by a heavy wimple. She had sharp gray eyes that appeared to miss no detail, and under the voluminous smock she was almost certainly tall and stocky.
The Abbess leaned forward, lacing her fingers together. “Ye are our newest arrival, then. Yer name is Freya.” she paused, tilting her head to one side and eyeing Freya thoughtfully. “It is an unusual name.”
Tingles flew down Freya’s spine.
She doesn’t know. She can’t know.
“Aye, Lady,” she managed at last.
“Mother,” the Abbess corrected. “I am the Mother Superior here. Ye can call me Mother, if ye like, or Abbess.”
Freya flushed. “Sorry.”
