That settled it.
One by one, grumbling and laughing and complaining as if soap were a personal insult, they washed before entering the hall. Amelia stood near Edith and tried not to look too triumphant. Wat scrubbed with exaggerated virtue. Alyson washed each finger carefully and then presented her hands for inspection.
Thomas came last, holding out his hands. They were large, scarred, nicked from work, the nails rimmed with soil despite the washing. Amelia poured water over them from the jug, and he rubbed them together, watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.
“There,” she said, quieter than she meant to.
“Am I fit to enter?”
“I suppose.”
“High praise.”
“I’m known for my generosity.”
He took the drying cloth from her, his fingers brushing hers.
Only that.
A brush.
It was enough to turn her into herself at sixteen when she’d developed her first crush.
Inside, the hall had been made ready. The trestle tables were set, benches had been dragged into place, candles were lit as the light faded, and there were new rushes on the floor. Men and women sat together with the easy exhaustion of shared labor. Bread disappeared. Bowls of stew were filled and emptied.Someone passed ale and wine. Someone else began the harvest song again, softer this time.
Later, when supper had ended and the children had begun nodding where they sat, Thomas walked her to the passage leading toward the women’s sleeping space. Edith had taken Alyson ahead, and Wat had finally been claimed by sleep against Hob’s side, which Hob pretended to resent while not moving a muscle.
Amelia stopped near the shadowed archway.
“I think today went well,” she said.
“It did.”
“Tomorrow will probably be chaos.”
“Aye.”
“But slightly organized chaos.”
“Your preferred kind?”
“My natural habitat.”
His eyes warmed.
She wished, suddenly and fiercely, that she had better words for what this day had done to her. How strange it felt to be so tired and so full at once. How seeing his people cheer over the cut rye had made something in her ache with wanting to belong.
The corner of his mouth moved. “You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I will.”
He leaned one shoulder against the stone, the shadows catching in his dark hair. “There are things to see to.”
“There are always things to see to.”
“Aye.”