Chapter II.12 #2
“It’s pretty. I like it. Adaline is a family name, too. We always have to be named after someone in the family. Heavens forbid one of us is allowed to be her own person.” She clasped a hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I said that aloud. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Miria laughed. “Who would I tell? If I showed up wherever you live, someone would chase me off—with a broom if I’m lucky and likely a crossbow if I’m not.”
Adaline’s face fell. “Probably. My mother’s likely to use a broom on me if she hears what I’ve gotten up to.”
“I promise not to tell.”
Adaline grinned, and her stomach rumbled the way Miria’s had earlier. “How far am I from the path?”
“Not far, but it’s about a ten-minute walk because the ground is steep and footing will be treacherous for your horse.
I can lead you, so you don’t get lost again.
If you like.” Offering seemed like the right thing to do, but her motivations didn’t feel entirely selfless.
Adaline was interesting in a way most people Miria met were not.
Probably, it was just because she was so different than most people—Miria had never met nobility before—but also the way her emotions were so plain upon her face was endearing, and something about her voice sparkled in an otherwise normal day, like the sun reflecting off a pool of stagnant water.
“I would like that very much.” Adaline’s expression suggested she thought Miria was as interesting as Miria found her. That wasn’t especially surprising, Miria supposed. Under other circumstances, Adaline was unlikely to ever converse with the sort of person who foraged for mushrooms.
And, come to think of it, Miria’s path in life had never led her to a woman who carried a sword before. She had questions.
“I’ll lead you,” Miria continued, “but you need to tell me how it is that you have a sword. Do you actually know how to use it? Can I see?”
Witches were supposed to be helpful, yes, but they also traded. Maybe her motivations would seem less complicated if she asked for something harmless in return. Or maybe she was just trying to justify her curiosity.
Adaline’s grin broadened further. “I can. I’ve been taking lessons—another thing my mother can’t stand, but my father approves, so she doesn’t have much choice about it.
It helps that I’m the youngest daughter.
My two older sisters are very proper ladies, and until my brothers were born, I got to be the boy.
I mean, not really, and I had to persuade my father at first, but then he liked the idea.
And my mother has my other sisters to dote over, so I don’t see why she has such a problem with it.
” She finally paused for breath. “Do you really spend all your days out here in the woods by yourself, without protection?”
Miria fought down a laugh. “I’m not as unprotected as I appear. I just lack a sword, and I’ve never seen a woman carry one before.”
“I think it’s very unfair. When I was younger, I told my father he should allow girls to join the household guard, and he told me none would want to. But obviously that can’t be true. I would want to, so I can’t be alone. Do you want something to eat?”
“Oh, um …” She was hungry, or she had been until finding Adaline had distracted her.
“Or do you need to get back to work?” Adaline asked, as though it just occurred to her that she might be diverting Miria from something else. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you.”
“No, it’s fine.” Even if she’d been busy, Miria suspected she’d have given the same answer. “I picked all the mushrooms I need.”
Adaline stopped and pulled a wrapped bundle out of one of her horse’s saddlebags. She handed Miria a large pastry. “I brought a ton of food. I’m always hungry. Here, eat with me.”
“Thank you.” The bread was golden, and it smelled deliciously spicy.
Miria took a giant bite out of it, and she was delighted to discover it was stuffed with well-seasoned meat that reminded her of a stew Yali sometimes made.
It was much more satisfying than the dried fish Miria had brought to nibble on.
She glanced over at Adaline, and heat rushed to Miria’s cheeks as she realized Adaline had not taken a bite straight from her pastry.
Instead, she was breaking off small pieces and delicately putting them in her mouth.
Was that how a well-mannered lady ate? Miria swallowed her most recent bite and did her best to mimic Adaline’s behavior, but the piece she tried to tear didn’t pull off easily, leaving her with two pieces, each too big for a single bite.
She stared at them, perplexed as to how Adaline had managed to even eat prettily, until she felt the other woman’s eyes on her.
Adaline was clearly suppressing her laughter, and Miria’s cheeks burned hotter this time.
“Honestly, you’ve got the better way to do it,” Adaline said, and she stuffed the remains of her pastry in her mouth and tore off a chunk with her teeth.
“Heavens, it even tastes better this way,” she added with her mouth full.
Miria snorted, and she felt her cheeks return to their more normal hue. “I’m not totally feral, I don’t think. This is just fancier food than I normally eat while I’m walking.”
Since manners didn’t seem to matter anymore, she followed Adaline’s example and bit into one of her too-large pieces with abandon.
Adaline giggled. “My mother tells me I’m feral all the time.
She doesn’t say feral, though. She calls me incorrigible and barbaric and disappointing.
I can’t believe I’ve been denying myself the chance to truly act it.
This is so much more fun.” She dug the remaining filling out of her pasty, leaving a hollow in the bread.
“What’s more simple for eating in the woods? That’s what these are cooked for.”
Miria shrugged. “I have some dried fish. It’s less complicated. Do you want to try some?” She wasn’t sure why she offered when her simple meal didn’t come close to comparing, but Adaline had shared food with her so it seemed only right to share her own.
“Sure.” Adaline shoved the last of her bread in her mouth, and Miria dug out the packet of fish she’d wrapped this morning.
She handed a piece over, wondering if someone like Adaline had ever eaten anything so plain, but Adaline’s eyes lit up as she bit into it.
“This is really good. Much better than what our cooks do.”
Adaline’s cooks had to rely on purely mundane methods for drying and smoking whereas Miria and Nana used some magical assistance. Although Miria had thought the magic just made the process easier, perhaps it did more, too. She’d never eaten smoked fish any other way that she could remember.
Adaline hadn’t been exaggerating about packing a lot of food. She pulled out some small cakes next, each studded with dried fruit and nuts, and they began walking as they continued eating. Miria hoped Yali hadn’t prepared lunch for her; she was too full for anything else.
“What kind of mushrooms were you picking?” Adaline asked.
“My nana calls them witch’s friend, but they probably have another name.” They almost certainly did.
“So not eating mushrooms then.”
Miria laughed. “No. I wouldn’t recommend it. Are you in town visiting someone?”
“My uncle is Lord Sigmun?” She sounded hesitant, as though unsure whether a feral woman in the woods would know who that was, and Miria nodded in assurance.
“He’s my mother’s brother, and we haven’t visited here in a few years, so it was time to come again.
I don’t mind, really. The capital is so hot and stuffy in the summer.
It’s much better being out here where there’s space to run around.
Not that I’m supposed to run anymore, but no one will stop me if I say I want to go for a ride, as long as they don’t realize how far I’m riding. ”
“Which, I assume, they won’t if you don’t tell them you got lost in the woods?
” Miria smiled and pointed up ahead where the path was now visible.
Part of her had wished to conceal it, to take Adaline on a longer than necessary walk and draw out their time together.
But she didn’t wish Adaline to get in real trouble with her family either, and she should head back to the cottage herself.
Adaline sighed, her smile one of pure relief. “I don’t know how I’d have ever found it again without you.”
“I’m sure you would have eventually,” Miria said. Regardless of Adaline’s navigation skills, a woman her age lost in the woods was the sort of situation that would trigger one of the many protective spells Yali (and now, Miria) had erected. It might have just taken some time.
“I don’t know.” Adaline bit her lip. Since she wasn’t local, she probably had never heard about the witch who guarded the woods. “I owe you.”
“You do actually.” Miria twirled the end of a braid around her fingers. “You were going to show me how you can use a sword.”
“Oh, right.” Adaline glanced upward through the clearing in the trees to where the sun was sliding across the sky. “Are you often in the woods?”
“Invariably.”
“Then I’ll do better than share. I’ll teach you.
I can come back every day if you want and give you lessons.
” Her excited expression turned hesitant.
“If you’d like, I mean. I’m sure you have other things you must do, mushrooms to harvest or whatever.
But you should know if you’re out here by yourself.
Even with other protections.” She glanced around, obviously dubious as to what other protections Miria might be concealing.
Especially when she was in the woods, Miria hardly needed a sword to protect herself, but she saw no reason to admit this to Adaline and every reason to keep that knowledge to herself.
Surely, Adaline wouldn’t return if she knew Miria was a witch, and Miria wanted nothing more than to see Adaline again.
To possibly have a friend. How long had it been since she’d spent time with someone her own age?
The question quietly shook Miria. Those she helped didn’t count for much. They knew she was a witch, and they feared her, and that was fine. But it meant their company was limited and based on nothing more than need.
Adaline, on the other hand, certainly found Miria strange, but she wasn’t afraid of her.
She’d smiled and laughed and shared more about her life than Miria would have dared to ask.
So much, in fact, that Miria felt a little badly about all she was hiding, but she told herself it was necessary.
Perhaps if—no, when—she saw Adaline again, she would share more.
“Summer days are long,” Miria said. “I have plenty of time to do my chores and spend a few hours each day learning how to use a sword. I’d like that.”
Adaline’s grin rattled something in Miria, lighting up her face and warming Miria internally. It made it all the more clear how much Miria wanted a friend. “Then tomorrow. Where should we meet?”
“Stick to the path,” Miria said. “I’ll always be able to find you.”