Thief by Linda Windsor

swine. Why, Princess Eavlyn is no nun, yet she is gifted, educated on the Holy Isle. Is she swine?”
    Caden rubbed his temple where his brain clenched in effort to follow the conversation. The only headaches he was accustomed to came from a hard blow in battle or too much ale in celebrating a victory, but never words.
    “I am a woman of God, milord,” Eavlyn objected. “That I serve Him as Esther did, an enemy king’s wife, does not change the fact that I serve Him and His children.”
    “And have you not learned from good, yet nonbelieving druids as well as godly ones?” Modred asked. “It is the loss of their knowledge I fear. We have much to learn from each other in a kingdom where we can exist together as neighbors.”
    “Gentlemen, I can see no resolution to the dilemma of the church this night,” Eavlyn interjected, her hands held up in surrender, “but you are welcome to seek it without me.” She rose from the bench, giving Modred a slight bow. “Tomorrow’s journey will come early. If it please milord, I will retire with my maid now.”
    “I pray my fervor has not offended you, Princess Eavlyn,” the king apologized. “I have nothing but respect for your service to God and our kingdom.”
    Plain Eavlyn grew radiant before Caden’s eyes. “Oh nay, my liege. It has been most invigorating.” Her face fell. “And vexing.”
    “And I plead old age, milord, and a long uphill walk to ask your leave,” Malachy said after the lady retired from the board.
    “I’ll walk you back to Trebold Law,” Caden offered, glad for a chance to be free of Modred and the conversation.
    The scrape of hearth benches being moved to the side so that the entourage might bed down around the fire for the night followed Caden and his elderly companion out into the cool night air.
    “All of Albion is in trouble,” Malachy said halfway up the hill. “We are surrounded by the enemy, but we will not despair.” His feeble clap on the back turned into a fatherly embrace. One Caden accepted out of respect. Maybe something more. “With God on our side, son, we have nothing to fear. Believe it.”
    “Aye, Father,” Caden replied. “I believe it.”
    He’d seen God heal his father’s bitter madness and protect his brother Ronan and Glenarden from overwhelming odds. Caden just didn’t know if God was on his side.

Chapter Four
    Eadric would take only three of the children on the dale ponies he’d acquired over the roll board. Sorcha wrapped her cloak tight about her shoulders in the cool morning air and stared, hopeless, at the shore where cottars wrestled their cobles, or small fishing boats, off the sand to try their fishing nets in the overcast sea beyond. The familiar wash of the water on the sands, the salty essence of the air normally embraced and invigorated Sorcha, but not today.
    Not when she had to choose one child to remain behind.
    Yet her cousin was not being hard-hearted. Just practical. Three youngsters day in and out on a pony across wetland, hill, and dale, accompanying a man who’d never had bairns of his own? What had she been thinking?
    She hadn’t. Impulse was a weakness. Now, not only did she have to choose a child to remain behind, but she had to explain it to her betrothed, who’d already agreed to Gemma’s coming with Sorcha.
    “I promise I’ll return for the fourth child in the spring,” Eadric assured her. “Even if I have to travel alone with the wee one.”
    Just till spring. That’s what she’d tell Cynric. For now, she had to face four very excited children and tell them one had to remain behind. And it wouldn’t be the siblings.
    Upon entering the house, Sorcha avoided Wynnie’s excited gaze as she rushed for Eadric in one of the new cloaks Gemma had made the children. Wynnie was very helpful around the house, a natural with a needle.
    No longer wary of Eadric, the little girl grabbed the bard in a fierce hug. “I can’t wait to leave. Will we be home in time for the harvest