“Who is she?”
“Her name’s Ryana,” Dain replied. “I can introduce you, if you like?”
Sudden shyness swamped Lilia. “Maybe later,” she mumbled.
Ignoring Dain’s look of amusement she turned and hurried back into the kitchen. She couldn’t let her employers catch her standing around or they’d think she was lazy.
The scop began another song as Lilia got to work mulling cider. This one was a melancholy lament, of two lovers, a great battle, and of loss. Lilia’s eyes misted over when the scop sang of the woman’s grief as she cradled her lover’s body in her arms. When the last strains of the song died away, Lilia quickly blinked back tears and sniffed. Songs always made tragic love sound so beautiful.
Neasa appeared in the kitchen doorway then, her round face flushed and her expression irritated. “Lilia—you’re making folk wait. Is that mulled cider nearly ready?”
Lilia gave her a quick smile. “Aye—it’s on its way.”
Deftly, she began ladling out steaming amber liquid into the tray of empty clay cups next to her. Enough distractions; she needed to focus.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. A steady stream of pies, stews, roast meat and vegetables flowed from the kitchen to the common room. Finally, Neasa and Dain carried out the Moon Cakes—soft, eggy and scented with orange—to the delight of the feasters.
Inside the kitchen, Lilia listened to their chorus of approval. She allowed herself a tired smile. It felt as if wet sand filled her legs, and her back ached. Cooking had quickly become a chore, yet it was good to know the cakes were appreciated. She’d be sure to mention that to her mother on her first visit home.
Now that the food had all been served, it was time for her to start cleaning. She was stacking pots to carry out to the scullery when Dain poked his head into the kitchen.
“Stop that,” he said, beckoning to her. “I’ll help you clean up later. Come sit down, have a cup of cider and some food.”
“I really should tidy up first.”
He made an impatient noise. “The pots can wait. Come on.”
Reluctantly, she removed her apron and did as bid. Dain had returned to the fireside, his booted feet up on a settle. The scop, Ryana, sat opposite him, her long legs stretched out in front of her. She cast Lilia a curious look as she approached.
It was late, and the common room had emptied out, save two old men who were playing at dice in the corner. Ailin was standing at the bar washing cups in a bucket of warm, soapy water, while Neasa perched on a stool next to him, sipping at a tankard of ale. The couple chatted together, ignoring Lilia while she took a seat on a stool near the glowing hearth.
A tray of food and drink sat on the low table before her. Truthfully, tiredness had robbed her of appetite, although she was thirsty. She picked up a cup of ale and took a large gulp.
Dain leaned forward, his gaze catching hers. “Lilia, may I introduce you to Ryana—the mysterious scop who occasionally graces The Grey Anchor with her haunting voice.”
The blonde woman’s mouth quirked at Dain’s flamboyant introduction. “Pleased to meet you, Lilia. Dain tells me you enjoyed my singing.”
“Aye,” Lilia replied shyly. “You have a beautiful voice, so full of emotion.”
Ryana gave a half-smile, acknowledging the compliment with a slight nod. Despite that her voice was raw and moving, the woman herself bordered on aloof. Her eyes were a cool grey-blue, giving nothing of her thoughts away. Lilia envied that; she’d always been so transparent. She knew every thought she had was mirrored on her face for all to see.
“I always enjoy the crowd at The Grey Anchor,” Ryana said finally.
Dain leaned back in his chair and surveyed Ryana with interest. “It’s been a while since your last visit. Where have you been?”
“Travelling the island,” she replied. “Although I stayed in Woody End for most of the autumn—the village has always welcomed me.”
Dain raised an eyebrow. “And other villages don’t?”
Ryana took a sip of mulled cider and pulled a face. “Some Orin folk aren’t given to trusting mainlanders.”
“Where are you from on the mainland?” Lilia asked, curious. She hadn’t met many folk from across The Wash.
“Rithmar.” Came the woman’s blunt, one-word reply.
“Have you ever visited Shingle Ford on your travels of Orin? I’m from there.”
The scop’s mouth thinned slightly. “Yes, once. A few years ago. I didn’t get a warm welcome so I’ve never been back.”
This news didn’t surprise Lilia, although she felt embarrassed that a stranger hadn’t been made to feel welcome in her village. “Folk can be small-minded,” she mumbled, staring down at her ale. She glanced up to see Ryana was observing her. The scop smiled. “Aye—but it’s good to see some folk leave your village. How long have you been working here?”
“A week.”
Ryana cast a mischievous look in Dain’s direction. “I hope this one hasn’t been making a pest of himself. You’re just his type.”
Lilia’s cheeks caught fire at this, while Dain cast the scop a dark look.
Ryana ignored his glare and laughed, the sound as musical as her singing. “With his face looking like that I’m not surprised you’re not keen,” she added, her eyes twinkling. She then turned her attention to Dain. “What happened? Did you lose your last fight?”
“You should have seen him a few days ago,” Lilia added. “His nose resembled a blood sausage.”
Dain smirked. “Don’t worry, my opponent looked far worse when I’d finished with him.”
Lilia, who was just taking a sip from her cup, snorted into her ale. “I don’t understand it,” she blurted out, unable to hold her tongue. “What fun can you possibly have beating another man to a pulp?”
Dain met her eye. “It’s not about that, it’s the physical challenge, about testing your limits.”
“But surely there are other ways that don’t include getting your nose broken?”
Dain gave her an incredulous look. “On this rock?”
A sigh from Ryana caused both of them to look her way. “You shouldn’t lament the peace and quiet of this isle,” she said quietly. “For some of us, it’s a haven.”
Lilia gave the scop a searching look, her irritation at Dain forgotten. “Why are you here?” she asked. She was aware the question was blunt but tiredness had emboldened her.
Ryana held her gaze for a moment, before her mouth curved into a wistful half-smile. “I came here seeking peace,” she replied gently, although the look in her eyes told Lilia she would get no more from her, “and I found it.”
It was late when Lilia finally bid Ryana and Dain goodnight. The hearth had burned down to embers and a chill had settled on the air. Not put off by the lateness of the hour, or the ebbing warmth, her companions poured themselves some more ale and wished her a good sleep.
Yawning, Lilia left the common room, her feet crunching under fresh rushes and padded down the network of hallways that led to her chamber. It had been her longest day yet in her new job, and she was bone-weary. She didn’t understand how Ryana and Dain weren’t falling asleep in their chairs. Her eyelids felt as if they had weights attached to them.
Inside her room, her breath steamed in the chill air. It was too late to bother lighting the lump of peat in the hearth so Lilia braved the cold. Shivering, she stepped out of her skirts and unlaced her bodice. She then shrugged on her linen nightshirt before diving under the mound of blankets on her sleeping pallet. She usually folded her clothes neatly before bed, but she would make an exception tonight.
Huddled there, waiting for her body heat to warm her blankets, Lilia listened to the stillness of the surrounding night. The folk of Port Needle had finished their reveling and would be sleeping off a surfeit of good food and drink. There would be a slow start the following morning.
Lilia gave another yawn and felt sleep tug at her, drawing her down into its clutches.
I survived my first week, she thought. Maybe I’ll cope after all.
Warmth suffused her, a sense of achievement. She thought then of her parents. This was the only Winter Blood she’d spent away from them. She imagined their cottage, lit up with lanterns. Her father mulling his pear cider over the hearth while her mother prepared Moon Cakes for the Guising. They’d be tucked up asleep now. Her parents worked hard in the fields, tending the vegetable plots that ran up the hill behind their home—they rose with the dawn and retired early.
A pang of homesickness brought tears to her eyes. She missed them both, but she was glad she had left, proud that she had insisted even when they’d begged her to stay. Compared to Ryana, who was thousands of leagues from home, she had achieved little. Yet she wasn’t intrepid and confident like the scop. This move had taken every ounce of courage she possessed.
Dain drained his tankard and placed it down on the low table next to him. “Alright, I admit it,” he slurred. “You can out-drink me.”
Opposite him, Ryana laughed. She leaned back against the wall and stretched. Dain cast an appreciative eye down her long legs. Ryana was comely, although her height and force of character intimidated most men. Her piercing gaze could pin you to the spot. He’d seen her quell admirers with just one look. Ardan went red-faced and tongue-tied in the scop’s company; Dain was one of the few younger men who conversed with her easily.
“I already knew that,” she said with a yawn, “although you did your best—as always.”
Dain snorted before rising to his feet and stifling a yawn. “Shadows, I’ll sleep like a badger tonight.” He rubbed a hand over his face, in an effort to sober himself up, and turned to Ryana. “Ma’s made up the same room you had in the summer. How long are you staying this time?”
She shrugged. “As long as the mood strikes me. I think cold weather’s on its way so I might remain a few days this time.”
Dain grinned. “Lilia will like that—you’ve got a devotee there.”
He thought his comment would make Ryana smile, but it didn’t. Instead she held his gaze, her own unnervingly clear for one who had consumed so much cider. “She’s fragile, Dain—be gentle with her.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “You make me sound like a brute,” he scoffed. “Anyway, she’s tougher you think. She’s survived my mother’s rule so far.”
Ryana made an irritated sound and shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I can tell she’s been hurt at some point.”
Dain’s smile faded. “How do you know that?”
“Call it a woman’s instinct. Just try not to tease her so much. Try looking out for her instead.”
Dain gave her a searching look. It was unlike Ryana to act as if she was his elder sister. However, he was too tired to argue with her about it. “Alright, I will,” he replied.
“Good.” Ryana rose to her feet and made toward the door. “See you in the morning.”
Dain watched her go with a frown. Ever since he’d known her, the scop always got the last word.