The Winter Promise by Jenny Jacobs Page B

not, we will try another remedy I know.”
    Elizabeth’s face had relaxed, the lines of tension easing. She nodded her agreement.
    Turning away from Elizabeth, the healer touched Imma’s shoulder and said, “My lady, if I may speak with you?”
    Imma raised a brow. What could Hunydd want with her? She glanced at Elizabeth, whose eyes were closed. She wasn’t paying any attention. Imma followed Hunydd into the hallway, shutting the door behind them. The healer walked down the corridor some paces from the door, drawing Imma into a shadowed corner away from observers. Imma’s heart beat faster. What required such secrecy?
    “My lady,” Hunydd began, then stopped. For a moment, the serene mask slipped and she looked discomfited and unsure. That was unexpectedly reassuring to Imma. Then Hunydd said, “I have known Lord Robert a long time.” Another hesitation. Then: “He’s a good man.”
    Imma looked at the other woman, her skepticism evident in her voice. “You’re no freewoman. You never chose to reside here.” She thought of the Welsh man and his son that she’d seen some days previously. Hunydd wasn’t the only one in such a predicament.
    “That doesn’t make Lord Robert a bad man,” the healer said. “He’s not the one who steals slaves.”
    That didn’t make him blameless, Imma knew. “Yet he does not restore you to your former status.”
    “And leave me to starve? Where would I return to, my lady, if he bade me go back to Wales? My village was destroyed in the wars.”
    Imma looked away. Her uncle’s words echoed in her ears. You will make the peace, he had said, and believed. And still she did not know how.
    “My lord is generous,” Hunydd said. “I would not like to see him hurt again, Lady Imma.”
    The unexpectedness of the comment made her start, and the urgency in Hunydd’s tone made her stare. “I won’t hurt him,” she said, at a loss as to what response was expected of her.
    “You will leave in the spring, and you will break his heart.”
    “That doesn’t seem at all likely,” Imma said. She must leave in the spring, that was true, but Lord Robert did not seem to have formed the kind of attachment to her that Hunydd seemed to be alluding to. She doubted he would allow anyone to break his heart, least of all Imma.
    “He will rage against your betrayal — ”
    Imma gave a shocked sound of surprise. What did the healer think Imma intended to do? And why did she think Robert would lose control over himself because of it?
    “I cannot imagine Lord Robert doing such a thing,” Imma protested.
    “And in his rage he will seek to destroy his enemies,” the healer ground on relentlessly. “He will take his men across the sea, and none will stand against him.” Hunydd grasped Imma’s arm with hard fingers, her dark eyes burning with intensity. “I have seen this, my lady. I have seen the sea run red with blood.”
    “But I — what would you have me do?”
    “Leave this place before it is too late. There is danger for you here, my lady. Danger everywhere.”
    Then she turned and left Imma standing there, shaken and afraid for the first time since she had come to Athelney.

Chapter Eight
    “Sir Osbrycht has returned today,” Tilly said, pulling off her everyday dress and opening her clothes chest. She took out a pretty emerald green wool dress that Imma had never seen before and guessed she wore only for special occasions. Tilly examined it for lint and dirt before setting it on the bed, apparently satisfied with its appearance. Then she found fresh stockings and rolled them up her legs.
    “Sir Osbrycht?” Imma asked. Her hand stilled in Morfydd’s fur.
    “He is Lord Robert’s chief retainer, fighting the Welsh these few last weeks. His company has been much delayed in returning.”
    Imma knew the autumn campaign had ended with winter coming in, the soldiers retiring to their homes for the season. Lord Robert had returned with the men under his command some time earlier,