Page 2 of Lord of Misrule

“I’m sorry, Brenna, but I have to go. I can’t leave Parker,” Kit told her sister. “I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Please, don’t leave, sister.” Brenna’s brow furrowed in fear, and with good reason. Birthing a baby was difficult. Oftentimes the baby or the mother, or both, didn’t even live. And to put the responsibility of the bakery on her shoulders now, too, was only going to cause the girl unneeded stress.

“It’s all right, we’ll be fine. Just go,” said Oliver with a wave of his half-fingerless hand. “We’d do the same for our own son and understand. It’s important that you’re there with him. We’ll take care of things here at the shop for you. When do we take the bread out of the oven?”

Kit hesitated, feeling doomed. It wasn’t a smart idea to leave these two to handle her business. They’d only been here for a fortnight now, coming to live with Kit, having nowhere else to go in their time of great need. Neither of them really knew enough about the business or baking to be of much help in this situation. Plus, if Brenna went into labor now, all hell would break loose. Kit would probably lose her business, that is, if the shop didn’t burn down first. She needed these sales to help support all of them. Burnt bread wasn’t going to do them any good.

“Oliver, fetch Vivian, my sister-by-marriage. She knows about baking and has helped me many times since Gerold’s passing. She will help until I return.”

“Vivian?” asked Oliver, squinting his eyes, seeming to try to remember the woman.

“You met her when you first arrived,” Kit told him. “She is my late husband’s sister and is married to the cordwainer at the edge of town. Now go. Brenna cannot be alone for long.”

“Yes. Right. I’ll be right back, my love,” Oliver told his wife, kissing her and then hurrying out the door.

“We’re going to the wagon,” snarled the guard, pulling Parker out the door. “And if you’re not there when I’m ready to leave, I’m not waiting.” The bells over the door jangled again. The guard left with her son, the door swinging closed behind them.

“Brenna, promise me you won’t go into labor before I return.” Kit picked up a few things and threw them into her bag. Then she eyed up the fresh tarts cooling on a shelf behind her. She grabbed a cherry-almond tart and quickly wrapped it in brown paper and placed it gently into her bag, careful not to break the crust.

“You’re taking food with you?” asked Brenna in shock. “Why? Are you planning on being gone that long?”

“Nay, of course not. I’ll be back soon, I promise. This is not for me. Lady Othren will be here for tarts soon, so be sure to wrap them gently. She doesn’t like when they break.” Kit hurried across the room and pulled open the door. “I am hoping to be able to win over Lord Tolin so Parker doesn’t end up whipped, without a hand, or in the dungeon.”

“You’re going to bribe a nobleman?” Brenna sounded horrified.

Kit turned and faced her sister. “If I have to, then yes,” she answered calmly. “I will do whatever it takes to protect my son. Now I can only pray that this man is easily persuaded.”