The Wretched of Muirwood by Jeff Wheeler Page B

The Abbey may protect my life, but it can easily become a prison with the Aldermaston my keeper. There is too much to risk trusting him with my identity. I have come this far. I must go on. Demont needs to know that the king’s men are on the hunt and know about Winterrowd.”
    Lia swallowed, feeling worse. “The sheriff said last night that the king was coming. The king himself.”
    “Then it is even more urgent that I leave,” he said darkly. “My horse – where is he? You can help me get it? I could leave tonight.”
    Lia bit her lip, thinking quickly. Then she remembered something – the orb in the Aldermaston’s study. The one she had seen him holding in the night that shone like a lamp. “I can lead you to your horse. Maybe I can also help you find the way to Winterrowd.”
    “But you said you did not…”
    “I do not know where it is. But the day is not done yet. I may be able to discover it.”
    He leaned forward. “Can you? How?”
    “If I can, I will find the way. Here, some food for your supper.” She handed him the linen, remembering she had been holding it the whole time. “And where did you get those apples? It is not even the season for Muirwood apples.”
    He looked over his shoulder. “They were already there. Same with the grain.”
    “Out of season?”
    He shrugged. “Season or not, the apples are good.”
    Lia went to the basket and knelt. The fruit was round and firm, the skin pinkish, red, and yellow. Just like the Cider Orchard. Muirwood apples were famous throughout the kingdom.
    “I doubt you know this, but there is a secret to finding the best ones,” she said. “Look at the skin. If it looks a bit rough, a little worn, with little splotches – those have the sweetest flavor. The ones that are perfect on the outside tend to be a bit more bland. That is true about many things in life. I always hunt for the best one before I take the first bite.”
    Gingerly, she lifted one out that had the telltale signs around the stem, and brought it up to her nose and smelled it. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent. Most apples just smelled like wood. But a ripe Muirwood apple had a subtle scent. She cherished the time when the harvest was done, when bushels were stored up in the loft and she could sleep amidst the tender smell.
    “Whatever are you doing?” he asked her, his voice a bit amused.
    “You never just eat a Muirwood apple, Colvin. You must always smell it first.”
    “It is fruit. The coloring is a bit odd – at first I thought they weren’t ripe until I tasted one.”
    She gave him a mockingly stern look. “Never just eat them. Smell them. Savor it first.” She closed her eyes and let its glorious scent fill her again. “Then you can eat it.” She took a bite and it was tart and sweet at the same time, juicy and crisp. “There are many ways to bake, boil, mash, spice, and fry them – but they are perfect alone.” She relished the flavor, the texture in her mouth. After swallowing, she looked up at him. “It was a Muirwood apple that tempted the first Parents you know.”
    He gave her an exasperated look, but did not reply. His expression indicated that she was being discourteous again to the dead.
    She straightened and brushed some dirt off her dress while she enjoyed the fruit. “I will see if I can learn the way to Winterrowd. Watch for Sowe and I at sunrise at the waymarker.” She took another bite. “Leaving tonight would be dangerous anyway. Dawn will give you a full day to ride tomorrow.”
    He nodded, said nothing in farewell as he was eating ravenously from the food she brought. She finished the apple after climbing back up the ancient steps. To get back to the kitchen, she crossed the orchard. It would be a while before the orchard filled with blossoms and heavy fruit. Having been raised at the Abbey, she knew everything about them. That apples each had five seeds, and if cut a certain way, they were shaped like a star. They were useful in many dishes,