Chapter 5: The Hunting Road

We rode until the horse started to stumble, and then we made camp in the lee of a fallen pine.

Ilsabet built the fire without touching a match.

She held two fingers over the kindling, and it caught.

I stared.

"You get used to it," she said. "Sit. Your face looks like a ripe plum."

"It's the worst my face has looked, so thank you."

"I didn't say it was bad."

She pulled a small tin from her bag and knelt in front of me.

I flinched when her fingers touched the cut over my eyebrow.

"Hold still, stable boy."

"My name's Rowan."

"I know your name. I've known it since you were a baby."

I looked at her.

She kept her eyes on the cut.

"You never said a word to me in seven years," I said.

"You never said a word to me."

"You walked right past me."

"I was told to."

She spread cold salve across my brow.

It smelled of pine and something bitter.

"Told by who?" I said.

"The Duke. Don't look at the boy. Don't speak to the boy. He is of no use to anyone."

Her voice had gone flat on the last words.

"And you did what he told you."

"I did what kept me in the house."

She sat back on her heels.

The fire painted her face gold and orange.

I saw for the first time that she was not as old as I'd thought.

She had a small chip in one front tooth and a pale line across her chin.

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