Page 105 of A Time of Witches

Lilith and Jacinda separated with Lilith starting on the first floor.

Three maids were in the kitchen, the scullery maid cutting a piece of knobby root—ginger by its sharp scent. Bess stood by the young maid named Anne, whose face was almost as pale as the white cap covering her dark hair.

“Mayhap something I ate…” Anne moaned.

Bess’s mouth tucked back at the corners. “Go on and have a lie down if you must.”

“I’ll be fine.” Anne’s slender hand rested on her stomach. “I’m feeling better already.”

The scullery maid shoved the bit of ginger at Anne, who eagerly put it in her mouth to suck.

Bess narrowed her eyes, hands fisting on her hips. “Is there something I ought to know, Anne?”

The maid widened her brown eyes and shook her head vigorously, setting her mob cap flopping almost comically against her narrow face. “Just something I ate.”

Bess nodded, her action slow and measured with skepticism. “Off with you now.”

Anne nodded, color showing in her pale cheeks as she rushed off so fast, she nearly ran through Lilith.

Lilith darted back in time to avoid the unwanted collision.

A place inside Lilith’s gut twinged, drawing her attention to how Anne gently held her lower stomach, as if cradling something precious. Exactly the way Essie had done when she was pregnant with Amara.

Likely Anne would be someone to follow. No sooner had the thought nagged at Lilith than the scullery maid gave a sly look toward Bess, who was busy watching Anne depart.

That sly look caught at Lilith’s conscience, pulling her back. Surely such an expression was not unwarranted.

Bess bustled from the room in that officious way of hers, leaving Lilith alone with the scullery maid.

A shadow passed by the window as a figure strode swiftly by.

The scullery maid snuck over to a door with a key jutting from its lock. She clicked the handle, shoulders flinching at the sound before the larder creaked open. With one last glance over her shoulder, she slipped inside, taking a lit candle with her.

Lilith followed her into the small space, hating how voyeuristic it felt to be watching someone who didn’t know of her existence. Especially when the hunch to the scullery maid’s shoulders seemed like a reflexive instinct from that primitive part of the brain that lets someone know they’re being observed.

The maid shifted a jar and drew something toward her. Lilith leaned around the woman to see what it was.

Another jar, one that revealed glossy orange spheres in a syrupy liquid when the lid was removed. The fragrant perfume of peaches filled the air.

The scullery filched one out, pinching the slippery fruit between her thumb and forefinger before letting it drop in her open maw. Her eyes closed in pleasure as she chewed, savoring that simple extravagance in a way that made Lilith wonder if she’d ever eaten something she’d enjoyed with as much pleasure.

The door opened and Sybil entered, her form clearer than Lilith had ever seen her. No longer a ghost from the past, but a real person—living, breathing. Someone in need of saving.

Sybil’s dark hair was lustrous where it hung down her back in a thick braid. Golden light from the rising sun spilled into the room and caught at the gleaming strands.

“Good morrow, Elspeth.” Sybil’s voice was lightly husky, adding to her commanding presence in a way that felt both authoritative yet welcoming.

Elspeth gulped down the fruit, a line of juice trailing from the corner of her mouth.

“I came down for some ginger and saw the door was open.” Sybil smiled, her eyes compassionate, avoiding the open jar of preserved peaches. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Elspeth shook her head. “Not at all, ma’am. There’s some ginger on the block I can get ye. Are ye feeling poorly?”

“No, it’s for a basket I’m making for someone.”

Elspeth looked at her feet. “I was stealing a peach, mum.”

“I know,” Sybil said kindly. “I won’t tell Bess.” Then she closed the door softly, and the sound of her footsteps clicked away.