I turned away and started embroidering gold on the hem of Lady Sarnai’s dress.
Edan knew I was ignoring him. He let me, for a while. Then he spoke. “I was raised in a monastery,” he said at last. “The gods worshipped there were different, but being here…still brings back memories.”
How little I knew about Edan’s past! Even though I wanted to ignore him, I was still curious. “Where?”
“Nelronat,” he said. “It was a city thousands of miles from here. It doesn’t exist anymore. Barbarians destroyed it centuries ago.”
I was quiet. I’d never heard of Nelronat.
“After my mother died in childbirth,” Edan continued, “my father was left to raise seven sons alone. He hated me. Blamed me for my mother’s death, and it didn’t help that I was a scrawny boy who preferred to read rather than herd the cattle.”
The sadness in his voice made my insides melt, but I wouldn’t look up. I focused on knotting a stitch into place so I could change to a new color of thread.
“My father took me on a trip one day. He said he was going to put me in school, since I was so inclined toward reading. It wasn’t a lie…not really. I was so happy.”
“He left you,” I said, looking up now.
“At a monastery a four days’ journey from our farm. I tried many times, but I could never find my way home. The monks I grew up with were different from the ones here. Not generous and kind. And the gods we worshipped were harsh and unforgiving.
“I stayed with them for years, until soldiers overran the temple and I was deemed old enough to fight for their cause. I was barely eleven.” He chuckled, though the laugh was dry of humor. “Six months into soldiering, my talent for magic was discovered. That led to me serving in more wars, but more as a weapon than a boy…until my first teacher found me.” He stopped, as if he heard something in the distance. “You should go down. Dinner is ready.”
I set down my needle. “What about you? You’re going to change.”
“Just tell the monks I wanted to rest,” he said solemnly.
“Should I bring you dinner?”
He managed a grin. “I’ll be out hunting. But I would be grateful if you left a window open for me.”
“Will you be able to find your way back?”
His grin widened, and I realized I’d shown him a sign that I still cared. “To you, always.”
His words made my heart unsteady, and I stiffened, then nodded and left.
Dinner consisted of boiled lettuce and carrots harvested from the garden, with a bowl of rice with sesame seeds. No one ate with me—the monks ate only in the morning, it appeared. But a few of the younger ones sat with me and sipped soy milk from wooden bowls.
When dinner was finished, I washed and dried my dish; then I sought out Ci’an. “You said I could take a bath once the sun had set.”
“There’s a spring past the washhouse you may use,” he told me. “Walk with me. I’ll take you there.” As I followed him out of the monastery, he said, “Your husband did not wish to partake of dinner?”
“He wanted to…to rest,” I said, staring at my hands. The guilt of lying to a monk made me unable to look him in the eye.
“I see,” Ci’an said. The elderly monk walked slowly, for it was dark and there were many steps in the garden.
“Monks are taught to seek peace,” Ci’an said, breaking the silence, “but even my brothers bicker with one another from time to time. Yet no matter how great their discord, they come to remember that harmony among them is greater.”
I swallowed. Ci’an must have sensed that Edan and I had quarreled.
“You care much for your husband,” he went on. “That is easy for anyone to see. But he cares for you more.”
I frowned. “That isn’t—”
“True love is selfless,” the old man interrupted. “And I can see you are very young.”
I kept quiet and watched my step. We had passed the washhouse, and the stone path we’d been following had disappeared.
“Your husband carries a heavy burden. I can see it in his eyes. He is not the first of his kind to pass through these walls.”
I inhaled sharply. “Sir?”
“This monastery is a thousand years old,” Ci’an said. “Many enchanters have come for the