The Silent Songbird (Hagenheim #7)(58)

“I believe You took my sin, and I am forgiven.”

Air filled her lungs, and she felt so light she might have lifted up to the ceiling. “Thank You, God.”

She waited until the feeling passed, then she whispered, “What will happen to me, God?” She placed her finger on the middle cross. “I’m afraid to ask.” She closed her eyes and Westley’s face loomed before her mind’s eye. “Is it a sin, God? To ask for Westley’s love?”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I won’t ask You to make him love me. He should have the freedom to choose whom he wants. But I’m all alone, God. I need . . .” What did she need? A friend? A husband? Disquiet filled her heart at the thought of asking for either. It didn’t seem right to need a person.

“I need an all-powerful God who cares for me. I need You.” Her spirit quieted within her. “You’ll never leave me or forsake me, and I’ll always trust You. I know I’ll be safe with You in my heart. I’ll not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day.”

Her tears dried on her cheeks. She would miss Muriel, and she did not know what would be her fate, but somehow the fear and guilt and pain were so weak and faint, they no longer oppressed her spirit. She was at peace.



Eight days later, Evangeline awakened to Muriel standing over her, shaking her shoulder.

She held a burning candle, which spread just enough light to illuminate Muriel’s face in the darkness of the predawn. “I wanted to bid you farewell,” she whispered.

Evangeline sat up and hugged her friend. “I will pray for you.”

“And I you.”

After a few more whispered words, Muriel disappeared, leaving with three of Glynval’s men carting a load of cheeses to Berkhamsted Castle.

Evangeline lay awake until it was time to get up, thinking about Muriel, praying for her, and praying Shiveley would give up and stop searching for her.

Later in the day, Evangeline was taking all the linen sheets off the beds and bringing them down to be washed. When she walked out the back door, Sabina sat beside the washtub talking with the servants who were doing the wash.

Evangeline’s stomach clenched and heat boiled up inside her. She pretended not to see her. The last time she’d seen Sabina was the night when she gave her the poison mushrooms to put in the pottage. All the emotions from that night rushed over her, sending her heartbeat into a strange rhythm.

“Good morning, Evangeline,” Sabina said, smirking.

“Good . . .” Evangeline let her voice trail off. She could not in good conscience tell Sabina she wished her a good morning.

“What’s the matter? You aren’t mute again, are you?”

Several of the other maidens giggled.

Evangeline dumped the sheets on the ground and turned to leave.

“Oh, don’t go away like that,” Sabina called after her. “You are not still angry with me about the mushrooms, surely.” She ended her words with a laugh.

Evangeline turned back and said, “Next time you pick mushrooms, I hope you eat them.” She walked away to the snickers of the other servants, hurrying before Sabina could say anything else.

When Evangeline was on her way back outside to take the last of the linens, Westley stepped out of one of the rooms along the corridor.

“Sabina is back today, I see. I can send her away if you wish.”

“No, no. I will not allow her to bother me. I did not do anything wrong. She is the one who should be uncomfortable.” Evangeline brushed past him.

“Wait.” Westley touched her arm. “Let me see your hands. Come into the light.” He pulled her toward a window. She placed her hands in his, palms up.

“You aren’t covering them.”

“I can get more work done with them uncovered. They are nearly healed now.”

“I don’t want you letting them get worse again.”

“They need to toughen up, don’t you think? If I am to be a servant for the rest of my life, I need tough hands.”

He was still holding her hands in his as he stared into her eyes. There was a serious, sad expression on his face. He said softly, “You were never meant to be a servant.”

“But I can work. I can be free and . . . do what I like.” Only if she could manage to stay free from the king and Lord Shiveley.

And only if Muriel would not tell them where she was.

“Besides, we are all meant to be servants of the Most High God. Even you.”

Westley smiled. “Yes. Even me.” He suddenly let go of her hands. “Tomorrow is the first day of the festival, when you are to sing.”

Evangeline sucked in a deep breath. “I am ready.”

Even if the worst happened, she was at peace.





Chapter Twenty-Two


Evangeline sat on a stool at the back of the castle and closed her eyes as Nicola prepared her long, wavy hair by adding tiny braids and weaving wildflowers into the plaits. Lastly, she pinned a crown of white flowers on top of her head.

Nicola handed her the small looking glass. Evangeline gasped. “How did you get it to curl so perfectly?” Normally her hair was wild and unruly. Somehow Nicola had calmed her hair into perfect ringlets, with tiny braids interspersed. “It’s beautiful. You have a special talent for hair dressing.”