15
Juliet
Mornings in the lodge of unmated spaewives were much like ones in the abbey. As a former orphan turned nun, I’d often been tasked with watching over the abbey’s young charges. Only now I had giant, hulking Berserker warriors monitoring my every move, instead of the Mother Superior.
It was day three of the bad blizzard, and the girls were restless.
“I’m bored,” Meadow flopped on her bed, rumpling her dress. I bit my tongue.
“Can we walk to Laurel’s?” Violet asked.
“No, sweetheart,” I lifted her and set her beside Meadow. “It’s snowing too hard. Perhaps if you ask nicely, Meadow will plait your hair.”
“She needs a wash first,” Meadow said, but dutifully sat up and started piecing out strands of the younger girl’s hair to braid.
“Yes, when can we wash?” Rosalind spoke up. Sh
