Page 31 of The Thornwyck Rose

“I had heard,” she said aloud but lightly, as if to no one in particular, “that Bishop Alaric took favor with the keep.”

Ragnar looked up. Baldwin didn’t.

Father Osbert only said, “He did.”

Nothing gained from that answer.

Seren offered one more test. “He mentioned my prayers, I’d heard. Said I was a pious wife.” Her voice stayed gentle. “Said he’d like a few more like me throughout the empire, is it true?”

Father Osbert glanced her way again. “Bishop Alaric said such things publicly. I imagine Lord Henry was . . . pleased.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes. A pious lord should be pleased with a pious wife.”

Baldwin didn’t shift, and Father Osbert did not scold for the right words dipped in mockery. She let the silence stretch, searching for any tightening, any sign of danger or opposition to her statement. Maybe they believed it. Maybe they wouldhave a hard time seeing her executed for some minor infraction, as were his other wives.

David stirred again and fussed. She gathered him into her arms with the ease of practiced rhythm. His small hands clutched at her collar, mouth rooting.

Ragnar slid the Psalter onto the bench and drew near.

“Would you like to help?” she asked Ragnar, shifting to give him space beside her. “He loves your voice.”

Ragnar crawled onto the bench beside her and whispered one of the Psalm verses under his breath. David calmed, blinking slowly, soothed by the boy’s presence. He grabbed Ragnar’s nose, and both boys laughed.

“You care for him like he’s your own,” Father Osbert said, approaching them.

She didn’t look up. “He will not grow up knowing cruelty if I can help it.”

Father Osbert moved to her side and dipped a cloth in holy water. He wiped David’s forehead, then Ragnar’s.

“You may not be his mother,” the priest murmured, “but your heart speaks louder than blood.” He leaned to whisper. “For all of them.”

Seren’s throat tightened. She looked at Father Osbert. He had been the one listening that day at the grave with the commander’s hushed warning. Was his statement another test? Or had it been the commander all along to test her? But the garden felt so real, and his presence in her room after David was born. There was relief in his eyes every time he saw her.

But his words from the prior summer brushed her memory:Trust no one. Not even me. Not even Father Osbert.

Did Father Osbert know about the poison? No, he couldn’t know. But was he searching her out to see if her prayers were real or if she contrived something more sinister to end the children’s suffering? Did he believe her? Did he know what she was doing? Did he approve? Did he think her a demon?

Seren looked down at the boys beside her. One born from her body. One given to her by fate. She had to respond to Father Osbert, but she debated what to say.

Ragnar leaned his head on her shoulder.

Seren kissed the top of his curls, then pressed her cheek to David’s downy head.

“They are all just children, Father,” she whispered. “Children need love.”

“They also need discipline,” Father Osbert said.

She found his eyes. Had it been a test? Had she failed?

“Yes, discipline and love, hand-in-hand,” she replied quickly.

Father Osbert smiled. “Yes, milady.” He left her and walked toward the altar.

She glanced back at Baldwin, who pursed his lips and looked off at the stone wall and window.

Seren swallowed hard. “Perhaps, Ragnar, we can go to the garden. I hear your father and Lord Henry are due back to the castle in a few days, then . . .”

Ragnar’s shoulders sagged. “Then I’ll have to go back to the attic.”