Chapter Sixteen

“Ma! Ma, look what Cook gave me.” Ronal shouldered the door open and stepped into the dimly lit house.

“Shh.” Emily turned from the cookpot and frowned, flapping her hand at him. “She’s finally resting.”

Stopping abruptly in the doorway, he lowered his voice. “Sorry.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, come in, shut the door.” Shaking her head slightly, she smiled.

Ronal crept in. “I’m so used to seeing Ma always busy doing something.” He laid the covered pot on the table.

“I know. I thought I’d have to tie her to the bed to make her stay there.” She stood in front of the pot, the skin around her eyes crinkling as her smile widened. “Is this what I think it is?” Lifting the lid, she breathed in, her eyes half-closed.

“Cook made it for Ma. He said it’ll make her well again.” Ronal smothered his laugh as Emily echoed his words.

“Cook’s miracle broth,” she said with a giggle.

Nodding, his smile faded. “Ma will be well again, won’t she?”

Brows raised, Emily met his anxious gaze. “Of course she will. The fever’s broke, my lovely, she’s on the mend.”

Blinking rapidly, he turned away, his words stuck in his throat.

Emily, persistent as always, hurried around to face him. “What’s the matter?”

Eyes squeezed shut, he shook his head. But tears managed to escape, darkening his lashes.

“Oh, my darling boy.” Reaching up, she wrapped him in a tight embrace. At thirteen, he was already taller than her. “Ma’s fine. Did you think–”

“She was sick for so long.” His voice was muffled, his face pressed against her shoulder. “I-I was, scared.” Her blouse bunched in his fists as he fought to stop his tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He moved so his cheek was resting on her shoulder. “You’re already doing so much, looking after Ma, doing her work, looking after Da.”

Stepping back, she held him at arm’s length. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have time for you. I’ll always have time for you, my lovely. You’re the best, most special thing I’ve ever found.” Smiling, her eyes shining with unshed tears, she cupped his face in her roughened hands. “And I love you so very much.”

His chin quivered as he flung his arms around her.

Ronal had always known he’d been found by Emily and Agnes and taken into their family. There were times, not so often now, that he wondered about his real family, his real parents, but he had no burning desire to find them. Agnes and her family had showered him with so much love and care, his only memories were of loving them and no one else. For him, he was the son of the castle farrier and the head washerwoman, and proud of it. And he had the best sister in Emily; fierce in her love of him and she always made him laugh.

“Why aren’t you at your duties?”

Ronal and Emily turned to the solidly built man in the doorway.

“Master Bruce excused me for the rest of the day, Da.”

“And he’s brought Cook’s miracle broth for Ma,” said Emily.

Evan, the master farrier, husband to Agnes and father to Emily and Ronal, quickened his pace to the table, making appreciative noises.

Ronal looked away, quickly wiping his face on his sleeve.

“Da.” Emily eyed him. “It’s for Ma.”

“I should taste it, make sure it’s good enough.”

Ronal chuckled.

“You agree, don’t you, my boy?” Evan ruffled Ronal’s hair with his meaty hand.

“Well, there is a lot–”

“Ronal!” Emily’s rebuke was marred by her ill-disguised smile.

“Ronal, is that you out there?”

Emily clicked her tongue. “Ma. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I am. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hear.”

“I’m coming, Ma.” Ronal pushed the door open and went to his mother’s side. “How are you?”

Pale against the sheets, she held her hand out to him. “Better for seeing you, my boy. But what about your duties?”

“Master Bruce has excused me for the rest of the day. And Cook has sent some broth now that you can eat some.”

“Ah, send him my thanks.”

Sat on the bed, her hand in both of his, he nodded. “You are feeling better?”

“Much. I’ll be up and about in no time.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Emily from outside the bedroom.

Agnes scrunched up her face. “There’s no need to fuss around like a mother goose–”

“I’m only doing and saying what you always do and say when we’re sick,” she said, poking her head around the open door, smiling.

Ronal laughed at the look on his mother’s face. “Emily’s right, Ma. You need to rest more, you do so much.”

“I don’t know how to do less. This is torture, having to be still when I know there’s so much to be done.”

“Yes, it is torture, not being allowed to get out of bed.” Emily raised her brows, her eyes wide. “I know.”

Agnes sniffed. “That was the only way to get you to rest, little miss fidget.”

“Anyway, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m managing–”

“I know you are, my dear girl. And I don’t mean that you’re not doing a good job. It’s just.” She shrugged, seemingly at a loss for words.

Emily tilted her head to the side, gazing at her mother. “Oh, Ma. When you get like this, I feel like I’m the adult and you’re–”

“Oh, you hush. I’m not so ill I can’t put you over my knee.”

Evan’s loud laugh drowned out their children’s laughter. “That I’d like to see. She’s taller than you, woman.”

Still laughing, Emily left the room.

Agnes turned her attention to Ronal. “Now, tell me. Are you working hard at your duties?”

“Master Bruce works us hard, but I’d rather do his bidding than sit, listening to Master Tristan.”

“I hope you’re not giving him any trouble.”

“Oh, Ma–” He was about to moan about how dry and boring his book studies were but stopped as she wrinkled her brow. Instead, he shook his head. “I don’t find it difficult like I used to. I understand better now.”

Smiling, she reached up and patted his cheek. “My boy.”

His smile widened. “We’ll get some rest from studies and duties, Arthur and me, when Princess Lilyrose is here.”

Agnes raised her brows. “You also?”

“Arthur made sure of it.” His smile faltered.

“You don’t seem so sure.”

He studied his mother’s rough hands, running his fingers over her dry knuckles, made prominent by her years of plunging them in water and scrubbing clothes. “Arthur’s very close to the princess. He always talks about her, more so when he’s been to see her. It’s all he talks about, her being here, all he wants to do and show her.” He drew his brows together slightly. “What. What if she doesn’t–”

“You’re worried she won’t like you.”

Ronal’s eyes widened. Sometimes, it seemed as if his mother could read his mind.

“Oh, my darling lamb. From what I’ve heard from those who’ve accompanied our lord and young Arthur to Lord Lionel’s, the young princess sounds to be a lovely little soul. Don’t you worry. You’re Arthur’s best friend, why wouldn’t she like you? Don’t pretend to be anyone other than yourself and everything will be alright. Now, promise you’ll not worry about it.”

“Yes, Ma, I promise.”

“Good.” She settled back on her pillow. “Now, tell me all that you’ve been learning.”

Ronal started with his favourite pastime, horse riding, but he hadn’t been speaking long when he noticed Agnes’ eyes slowly sliding shut. He continued to talk until her steady breathing assured him she was asleep. Kissing her lightly on the cheek, he rose and stole out of the room.