When Cadan announced, during dinner, that he would be staying in the village the following day, Matthew looked worried. “Not that I’m quibbling, lad, your wife is important, but someone needs to get word to the castle about fixing their road before this rain washes a new river straight through it. Ingrid’s already said you can take Bashful.”

Cadan looked at Eleanor, the stubborn jut to his chin telling her his likely answer. But then he’d upset Matthew, and then Sarah would be unhappy, and probably a whole crowd of others.

Eleanor said. “I’ve plenty to keep me busy tomorrow. You don’t need to stay.”

He said. “If I take the cart, you could come too.”

Now both Matthew and Sarah looked worried, and Matthew said. “Cart won’t make it over the bad section of road, lad. You’ll have to ride.”

Cadan looked torn. She patted his arm. “You should go. It would be nice if you could be home early though, you could meet me at Maggie’s and make sure I don’t get eaten by cockatrices.”

That sparked a thought. “And maybe you could introduce me to Samuel and see if he can tell me why one of his guard weasels keeps checking on me.”

She described the encounters, but the other three were as mystified as she was.

They tidied away dinner and retreated to the hearth area. Sarah with her knitting, and both Matthew and Cadan whittling. Her husband held up four straight, slim twigs. “Your knitting needles. I got extra in case I spoil a couple.”

Sarah said. “Why don’t you read us a story from that book of yours?”

Eleanor ran to fetch it, then sat and leafed through the pages. She settled on the story of the Crown of Aragnoia and began to read.

At the end, Matthew said. “I can see why the children are abuzz with your stories, lass, ‘twas a good tale, and you told it well.”

He stood. “And with that, this old man’s for bed.”

Sarah eyed him. “If you’re an old man, what does it make me?”

Matthew gave her a floridly clumsy bow. “The fairest maid in all the land and queen of my heart.”

He winked at Eleanor. “See lass? I’m learning as much from your stories as the little ones.”

Sarah was still chuckling as she anointed and bandaged Eleanor’s hands for sleep. “You should be near enough back to normal in the morning, and we’ve a new batch of soap for the clothes after breakfast.”

Laundry again already? Eleanor bit down a groan and replied. “Oh good, and I need to sew your apron too.”

They were in their room, getting ready for bed before Cadan spoke. “Sounds like you won’t be missing my presence at all then tomorrow.”

Why was he sounding hurt? He should be relieved that she was busy and helping and trying to fit in.

“I’ve things to do, yes. Which is why you should find a day when neither of us have immediate tasks to worry about, so we can just,” she waved a hand, “do something nice.”

He rounded the bed and pulled back the covers. “And what would you consider ‘something nice’?”

She finished folding her things and slipped into the bed, snuggling down as he did the same and pulled the blankets high. “I’m too tired to consider anything right now. I’ll tell you when you get back tomorrow.”

The next morning, Cadan was gone as soon as he’d dressed. He pressed a shy kiss to her cheek as she sat on the side of the bed, trying to wake up. “Remember to come up with your ‘something nice’.”

The morning was the same as the ones before, and, Eleanor supposed, the ones that would come after, as days became weeks, then months, then years. The same women, similar talk, and a little practice Sundarian with Lily Smith. Martha ignored her so hard she was practically vibrating.

Then breakfast, and a shorter laundry session, with no sheets to worry about, just clothes. They left them drying and Eleanor finished unpicking her pillow case over lunch. Sarah held it up to check the length and nodded. “It’s a good size and the yellow ties will make me the envy of the village. Very smart.”

She sent Eleanor off to Maggie’s with a pot of salve and an idea.

Martha was already there when she arrived, attacking the raw wool with her carding combs as if it were a mortal enemy.

Eleanor handed over Sarah’s balm and asked. “Would it be possible to exchange this for a skein of your linen thread instead of wool? Some of the yellow?”

Maggie waved her over to the pile of thread. “Choose the one you want.”

Eleanor found a good-sized skein of fine thread almost the exact shade of her ribbon. She pulled it out and Maggie nodded. “A fair trade. Now tuck that away and start carding. I want a decent dent made in that basket as I’m going to lose a lot of time later this afternoon, teaching you to spin.”

Martha sniggered and Maggie spoke a little louder, without looking around. “You need to be sure to start with good habits, rather than make me take even more time later to deal with bad ones.”

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