CHAPTER ONE
“If ye daenae wash yer carrots, the stew will taste like dirt,” Emilie called out, glancing over her shoulder to where some of the other girls were working.
“We heard ye the first time,” Nieve chided, giving Emilie a playful swat with the cloth towel that she was holding.
Emilie, however, just shook her head, turning her attention back to the potatoes she had been dicing just a moment before. The sound of chatter filled the kitchen of Caledon Abbey, just as it did every evening when the novice nuns cooked supper for the entire nunnery.
Nieve stood beside her, her white, muslin habit slipping down onto her forehead a bit. Emilie reached up, scratching at the edges of her own white habit, the fabric of it itching as it clung to her sweaty brow.
“Ye’re always so pious, Little Emilie,” Laura quipped from across the room. “Next ye’ll be spoutin’ nae about muddy soup, but about how cleanliness is the command of the Lord.”
“Well, ye ken what Sister Agatha says,” Emilie supplied, not looking up as she carefully diced the spud on the table before her. “‘To be pure, ye must first be clean.’ And ye’ll nae be clean if ye’ve got mud on yer insides.”
She heard one of the other novice nuns scoff at her words, but Emilie did not care. She did not take their chiding to heart. Not when she knew their intentions.
When she finished chopping the potatoes, she piled them into her apron and walked them across the kitchen. Tall, beautiful Laura was standing at the stove, hand gripped around a ladle as she stirred the stew they were slowly creating.
“An offerin’ for the pot?” Laura asked, arching a thick, dark brow as she watched Emilie approach.
“An offerin’ of the finest order,” Emilie answered with a smile, using her apron to lift the potatoes and toss them over the rim of the pot.
A splash of hot liquid jumped over the rim, landing directly on Emilie’s arm. She winced at the shock, her other hand flying up to cover the spot and rub it until the pain abated.
“Are ye all right, Emmy?”
Young Poppy’s voice was high and clear, and when Emilie glanced up to look at her, she found the young girl’s face lit with worry as she stared at her.
“Of course I am, lass,” Emilie said, walking forward to ruffle Poppy’s black hair affectionately. “It just was a bit of a shock. But look, now ye cannae even tell where the soup splashed me.”
Poppy’s sky-blue eyes studied the skin on Emilie’s arm, scouring every inch for any imperfection. But just as Emilie had advised her, she found none.
The young girl nodded, her face relaxing a bit as she turned back to the green beans that Kayla was helping her cut.
Emilie was crossing the kitchen, readying herself to start working on preparing the meat, when a knock on the kitchen door grabbed all of their attention. The conversation and giggling that just moments before had been filling the stone room died out entirely, every eye swiveling toward the threshold.
Sister Agatha was standing there, a stern look on her wizened face as her vivid green eyes roved the girls, stopping only when they landed on Emilie.
“Emilie, lass, ye have a visitor and ye need to come with me,” Agatha advised, nodding her head over her shoulder to indicate the way in which she’d just come.
Emilie cocked her head in question.
“A visitor?” she parroted.
“Aye,” Sister Agatha nodded. “Yer parents are here. Now come.”
Emilie’s mouth popped open in surprise. Seventeen years prior, her parents had taken her to Caledon Abbey, delivering her to the nuns. In the entire time that she had been here, never once had they, or anyone else, come to visit her.
Why are they here now? What could they want from me?
She wanted to ask Sister Agatha those questions and more, but the nun was giving her a stern look. It was a look that reminded Emilie of the vows that she would someday make. A vow that promised obedience, among other things.
Color rushed into Emilie’s cheeks, her head immediately bowing in deference as she moved forward in steadied steps.
“They’re in the library,” Agatha explained, “they’ve asked if they can see ye in private. The abbess agreed.”
Emilie just nodded, knowing that was the only response that Agatha expected.
She kept her head bowed the entire time. Emilie did not need to look up as she walked through the halls. She knew them so well she could, and often did, traverse them at night without so much as the guidance of a lantern.