Page 68 of The Silent Songbird

“I have not seen Sabina around here lately.”

“She says she has been sick since she gave you those poison mushrooms. Perhaps she is ashamed to show her face here, or afraid the other servants are angry with her.”

“Most people seem to believe it was an accident, that she did not intend to pick the poison ones.”

“Do you believe that?”

“No. Although I would hate to falsely accuse her, especially since she helped me save you from the river. I suppose it is possible she did not intend to poison everyone or to have me accused of the deed. It is possible.”

He rubbed over a particularly raw-looking spot on her palm and she sucked in a quick breath between her teeth.

“Forgive me.” He dipped his finger in the sticky salve, applied it to both hands, then finished bandaging them.

“You seem to be good at everything, even bandaging servants’ hands.”

He studied her face. Now that he knew she was the granddaughter of a king, he couldn’t help seeing her a bit differently. “I hope the king does not put me in a dungeon for making you work as a servant.”

“I only mean that you seem so good at making everyone like you. All the servants think highly of you. They are not intimidated, but they respect you nevertheless.”

“It is important to me that I earn my people’s trust and loyalty, especially after the Peasants’ Uprising. I don’t want them to see me as a cruel master. And I don’t want to be a cruel master. As Christians, we are all brothers and sisters.”

She looked confused.

“There is a passage in the Bible that says, ‘Masters, provide your slaves with what is right and fair, because you know that you also have a Master in heaven.’ I imagine it works the same with villeins as it does with slaves.”

She was so beautiful when she was thinking and staring at nothing. She creased her forehead in that thoughtful way of hers. “No wonder you are so loved by the people. And so disliked by the other lords.”

Westley rubbed the back of his neck. “I always wanted to be like my father, but the truth is, I’m not like him. He often says wise things, and he is very intense and seems to know when mischief is afoot. If something is amiss, he knows what, why, and how to fix it.” He stopped. Did he truly want Evangeline to know how incompetent he felt?

“Is that why you were so angry when I said John Underhill had tried to kill you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if he tried to kill you and you thought he was still your friend . . .” Evangeline shrugged.

She understood better than she pretended. “You are reminding me of my father at this moment.” He shook his head. “If I could not even see that my oldest friend hated me so much he wanted to kill me, well, how could I even be worthy of inheriting my father’s lands and responsibilities?”

The confession left him hollow inside, but at the same time, it felt good to admit it.

“I am angry with myself for not seeing how much he has changed, how he hates me enough to murder me.”

“How could you have known? It is nothing to blame yourself for.”

“But how could I be so mistaken?”

“Perhaps it is because you are so kind, you could not imagine your own friend being so evil. You are a good man, Westley.”

She looked intently at his face with those enchanting green eyes.

“Forgive me for not trusting you more. It seems I was mistaken again.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “The fact that you admit your mistakes makes you even more admirable.”

Her words seemed to fill an empty place inside him. How pretty she was—fragile and yet strong. His arms ached to hold her.

His father’s cautionary words came to him.“Be wise and guard your heart. You hardly know anything of this woman.”

But he did feel as if he knew her. Was his heart being deceptive? How could he know? He turned away from her before he acted on his impulse.