Chapter 9: Black Water

Tilda's POV

Black Water was a cold grey lake with the Moot's tents pitched along its shore.

I came down to it on the second evening in the Fen's one cart, with Hetta beside me and the ferryman driving.

"I've sat in worse carts," Hetta said, to nobody.

"When?"

"Your grandmother's wedding. The mule died halfway."

Forty pack banners snapped in the wind along the water.

Kestrel's grey one flew nearest the long hall, and under it, in a Luna's blue cloak with a silver comb in her hair, stood Maud.

She saw me before I saw her.

She came across the grass with both hands out and tears already on her face.

"Tilda. You came. I was so afraid you wouldn't."

"I said I would."

"I only kept the chair warm, I swear it. I never wanted it." She squeezed my hands. "Hetta! You look well. Here, you're frozen."

She pressed a cup of steaming tea into Hetta's fingers, and Hetta drank it in three swallows, because Hetta drank anything hot.

I looked at the silver comb.

It had been the Luna's comb for forty years.

I had worn it to my wedding and every anniversary since.

"It suits you," I said.

Maud touched it and went pink. "Oh, don't."

Behind her, a man stepped out of the long hall.

Corwin wore a fresh black coat and had no escort, and the shadows under his eyes were dark as bruises.

He stopped ten feet away.

He saw me, and Maud holding my hands, and his eyes moved from one of us to the other.

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