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CHAPTER 10
“Where are Lambert and Lady Juliane today?” I ask Simon as we skirt around the edges of the Sanctum Square. “Aren’t they assisting you?”
“They’re elbows deep in wedding preparations. Lambert was recently engaged to Lady Genevieve d’Ecre.” Simon runs a hand through his blond curls, then hooks one thumb in a pocket of his tunic. “It’ll be quite an event.”
That explains why the comte was so concerned during his tour about when the vaulted ceiling in the expansion would be finished. “What part do you get to play?”
“The easiest. I just have to dress up and stand where I’m told.” Simon’s grin is hesitant, like he hasn’t smiled in a long time and isn’t sure he’s doing it correctly.
He’s still the venatre, though, and it’s safer to center the conversation on him. “How exactly are you related to the Montcuirs?” I ask.
“My mother’s sister was married to the comte’s younger brother.” Simon hunches his shoulders and kicks a stone the size of a small plum, sending it skittering to rest against a cart selling sweetmeats. “It’s a distant connection, but they’re the only familyI have left.” He smiles self-consciously, again like he’s trying to remember how. “I came to Collis last winter hoping for help finding an apprenticeship or other work, but…” His mouth tightens. “They had other ideas.”
Not a physician, then. I steal a glance at Simon’s hands, searching for hints of what kind of work he’s done in the past, but his palms are smooth and his fingers uncalloused. “What kind of apprenticeship did you want?”
He shrugs, this time with only one shoulder. “Whoever would take me. I have no experience or skill.”
The statement shocks me into staring at him. “Aren’t you a little old to be starting from nothing?”
“Old?” Simon raises an eyebrow. “I admit eighteen is later than most to begin an apprenticeship, but it’s notold.”
“Eighteen?” I face ahead to hide the color I feel spreading across my cheeks. “I thought you were at least Juliane’s age.”
“Nineteen now,” he replies. “Though, given my task, I hope other people assume as you did.”
The Pathway of Prayer is visible, but we’re still only halfway across the square. Simon clears his throat. “May I ask about your family?”
A hollow forms in my chest. “The family that gave birth to me, the family that raised me, or the family I have now?”
Simon chuckles ironically. “I see we have similar problems, but whichever you would prefer to talk about.”
His empathy unlocks something inside me. “I was left with the Sisters of Light when I was a few days old. The prioress makes it her mission to educate any girl she can get her hands on, so I was well schooled, but I left the abbey to work for the architect when I was twelve.”
“To climb scaffolds.” That’s what I told Juliane and Lambert, so it’s not a question.
I nod. “That was the initial reason, but now I assist him in other ways.”
We pass the transept before Simon speaks, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of construction in this section. “And so he’s your family now.”
“Well, him and the housekeeper. And Remi.”
“Who’s Remi?”
“Magister Thomas’s apprentice, but he just finished several weeks of examinations in Lutecia under another master, so he’s a journeyman now,” I explain. “He’s also the housekeeper’s son. Mistress la Fontaine needed a home after her husband died, so it was an arrangement that suited everyone.”
“Ah,” says Simon knowingly. “That must have been the woman who watched us leave. Does she mother you?”
I shrug. “We get along.” Mistress la Fontaine has always been concerned with keeping me well-fed and presentable. Mother Agnes and I fought constantly, but in some ways her nettling showed she cared about me on a deeper level.
Which only makes her lies worse.
We reach the Pathway of Prayer and turn away from the Sanctum. The noise level drops quickly, but Simon doesn’t continue our conversation, for which I’m glad, as I half expected him to ask about my parents. The prioress told me years ago that she had no idea who they were. That was her first lie.
After a minute of silence, I realize Simon hasn’t said a word about his own mother or father, either.
A city watchman comes into view, sitting on a barrel outside the alley as he picks his fingernails with a small knife. When a passerby stops to peer into the alley, the man looks up and growls for him to keep moving. So much for observing anyone who lingers beyond reason. As we approach, his challenging expression turns to Simon.
“I don’t think he realizes who you are,” I murmur.
