Aalis had borrowed one of Caste’s anatomy books and had taken a pause in her chores to read it, her feet aching. She rubbed her feet with one hand, her eyes devouring the written word when she heard footsteps thumping up the stairs and down the corridor. She put the book down then frowned, hearing slurred singing. The door to the room opened and she stood up in shock as Judd practically fell through onto the floor.
“Judd!”
“Aalis?” Judd looked up with a squinty expression. “How are you standing on the wall?”
“How am I what?” Aalis looked at Giordi and Verne who were leaning on the doorframe. “What happened?”
“Dinner with Lord LeMewn.” Verne muttered, helping Giordi drag Judd into the room so they could shut the door. “Small portions…lots of wine.”
“Oh dear.” Aalis tried not to giggle as Judd attempted to stand. “Whoa…one moment there…let me clear off the bed so you can lie down.”
“I thought I was lying down.” Judd said happily as Aalis gathered the clothing she had laid out on the bed.
“Aalis,” Giordi looked around the room that resembled a laundry, “have you been washing all our clothes?”
“Seeing as you were in perfectly clean, new clothes, it seemed an unmissable opportunity.” She explained. “Come on Judd. Onto the bed.”
She and Verne yanked off his boots and dropped them to the floor. Judd put his fingers to his forehead. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Has he had much to eat?” Verne shook his head. Aalis frowned. “Verne, could you ask at the kitchen downstairs if we could have some stew? They were serving it earlier. A little food in his stomach might help nullify the wine.” Verne hastened to do so. Aalis looked at Giordi who was yawning. “You do not seem so affected.”
“I wasn’t hampered by a lack of etiquette and managed to eat a little more than Judd did.” He yanked his shirt over his head, exposing a rather fine torso and Aalis turned away. “Where is my nightshirt?”
“Hanging up over there…” She pointed vaguely. Giordi took it from her makeshift clothesline.
“This can’t be my nightshirt…”
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“It is. It is just clean now would you please put it on?”
Giordi chuckled. “You’re sleeping in a room with three men, not to mention camping out in the middle of nowhere with four when Caste has no other options and you’re embarrassed by my bare chest?”
“It is a matter of propriety.” Aalis retorted. “You and I are as good as alone!”
“What about when you treat us for injuries?”
“I am not looking at your body! I am treating wounds!”
“I’m dressed, by the way.” She turned with her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I apologise Aalis. I suppose it is that familiarity we have come to assume…perhaps we should book you a separate room.”
“I am not sure our,” she picked Giordi’s discarded blue shirt up off the floor, “finances will stretch that far. Indeed, I am not sure if we will all be able to afford shoes.”
“At least we have clothes now. Something decent to wear.”
“Did you find out if the clothing was a gift from Lord LeMewn after all?”
Giordi shook his head as Verne entered carrying two bowls.
“I don’t know that he’s that hungry.” Giordi lay on his bed.
“I am.” Verne muttered. “Bloody lords and their stupid serving sizes…Judd, sit up!”
“Come on, Judd.” Aalis helped him to rise. “Get some solid food in your stomach.”
“Not too much though,” Giordi hinted as he kicked the bedpan across the floor, “make sure he’s got this beside him in case.”
Judd managed to eat a little but he struggled to remain awake. Giordi was already asleep, curled up on his side. Aalis undid the ties at Judd’s neck then, with Verne’s help, managed to pull his shirt off to keep it from creasing. He slumped onto the mattress.
“What about his pants?” Aalis asked, concerned.
“After you.” Verne snorted and they both laughed softly. Verne sat against a wall and ate the lukewarm stew. “Much better than that slop they served us for dinner.”
“I am very surprised it was not nice.”
“It probably tasted alright but the portion sizes…” Verne shook her head.
“Giordi said you did not find out who gave us the clothes.” Aalis crossed her legs, sitting on the bed.
“Not Lord LeMewn, that’s for sure.”
“His wife?”
Verne paused then shook her head. “I doubt it. She was not much more than a shadow at that table. The only time she stood out was when Giordi cajoled her into playing the harp so he could sing.” Verne chuckled. “Honestly, I half expected him to disappear between the manor and here, return to the house, climb the outside and romance Lady LeMewn in her bedchamber.”
“Do you really think him capable of poaching another man’s wife?” Aalis asked softly, glancing at where Giordi slept, snoring softly.
“Is it really poaching when the pheasant throws itself into a snare?” Verne shrugged. “Look, I don’t know if he was flirting…but I do know for a few minutes, she looked happier…”
Aalis sighed lay on her bed. “Is it permissible then?”
“Who am I to say? I didn’t like the man but he didn’t seem a brute and perhaps she didn’t ever have much of a personality to begin with.” Verne scraped the bowl clean then pulled off her boots and climbed into bed. “If, for one forbidden moment, she was happy…was it really so bad?”
Aalis worried her bottom lip, looking up at the ceiling that disappeared when Verne blew the lamp out. She pulled the covers over herself, facing the wall. In the end, she gave way to the tears because she couldn’t restrain them and keep her sobbing silent.