Chapter Eleven
Spring 501
A few weeks later, as spring was beginning to paint the forest with its first blush of green, Malegant came to our morning meal dressed in his riding boots and traveling cloak.
“I am going out to begin collecting taxes in the nearby villages,” he announced.
Imogen threw me a hopeful look behind his back.
“I am going with you,” Aine pronounced.
“No, you are not. Someone needs to stay here to guard her.” He gestured to me with his tankard of ale.
“But I’m bored.”
“What do I care?” he asked around a mouthful of bread. “Besides, the fisherman should be here tomorrow with the next moon’s supplies. Someone has to pay him.”
Aine sat in a huff, her arms crossed like a petulant child’s. “Isn’t that the duty of your wife?” Suddenly she looked up. “You still don’
