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“I’ll take one of each,” Aimee said, reaching for the purse attached to her belt.

As soon as they reached home again, Aimee ran up the stairs gleefully with her two bags of lover’s tokens. Freda had been both horrified and astonished by her purchase. “Whatever will you do with them all, Aimee?” she had asked in hushed tones as the stallholder had sorted her selection. “Give them to servants, I suppose, but you don’t even have that many!”

Aimee had tried to imagine giving Golda or Ingrid such a token as thanks and failed. Both, she thought, would give her short shrift, infinitely preferring a ha’penny. Rather than explain her intent, she had distracted Freda by congratulating her on her own purchases, explaining what Matthews had been up to.

Freda had spent the entire walk home exclaiming tearfully that Aimee should not have done something so wildly extravagant. “You did not buy that beaded cap?” she demanded in failing accents of Matthews. He gave a nod, and Freda squeaked in dismay, covering her mouth with her thin hands. “Oh gracious! Whatever will I do with it? I am far too old to wear anything so pretty!”

“Nonsense!” Aimee disagreed. “You may wear whatever you like. There is no one to stop you. And besides, you are not old.”

“What about that carved wooden spoon?” Freda asked with misgiving. Matthews thought a moment, then gave another nod. Freda’s face fell. “Oh, but I had no purpose for it!” she gasped. “I was simply admiring the craftmanship.”

Aimee shrugged. “You could always give it to someone for a gift,” she suggested. “Ingrid maybe?”

Freda blinked. “You think she would like it?”

“She might.”

“Oh dear,” Freda fretted. “Aimee, I have no way of repaying your generosity.”

“And neither should you, for we are family now.”

By the time they had reached home, Freda’s dismay had turned to excitement, and she had been almost giddy as a girl when Matthews had handed over the sack of her wares to her. Aimee ran upstairs, reached into the first of the two bags, and pulled out a shiny badge which seemed to depict a hedgehog.

After stashing the rest of the tokens in her wedding chest, she slipped into Konrad’s room and placed it carefully on his pillow bearer. She almost hugged herself with glee, imagining his bewilderment on receiving it. Hurriedly, she sped back out of the room and rejoined Freda in the oaken parlor where they sat and went through the bag of Freda’s unwitting purchases.

They were still laughing over a pair of bright orange stockings when Magnatrude burst into the room and stood there shaking, her back to the door and her eyes full of tears.

“What is it, Trude?” Aimee asked with alarm, while Freda sat frozen and speechless. “Has something happened?”

Her sister-in-law stumbled into the room, wild-eyed. “I – that is – Queen Armenal has done me great honor,” she blurted and then burst into tears. Aimee sprang from her seat and drew Trude down onto a seat by the hearth.

“There, there,” Aimee murmured, chafing Magnatrude’s cold hands. “Freda,” she said calmly. “Could you call for someone to bring us some apple logs for the fire, for ’tis going off cold already. And if we could be fetched some wine and spiced biscuits.”

Freda ran from the room, sending a grateful glance over her shoulder. Aimee had realized by now that poor Freda tended to bring out the worst in Trude in moments of raised emotion.

“I don’t know why I’m acting like this,” Magnatrude sobbed. “It’s the single most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me.” She covered her face with her hands, and Aimee made soothing noises as her sister-in-law dissolved into a fit of uncontrolled weeping.

When Freda returned, she brought Ingrid and a threadbare mantle for Trude’s shoulders. At Aimee’s nod, she resumed her seat, and the three of them sat in silence as Ingrid kindled the fire. When Unwin soundlessly slipped into the room carrying three goblets and a flask of wine, Aimee bade him pour for them, and he did so quietly and efficiently, handing the cups around.

Magnatrude accepted her cup of wine with thanks and took a sip. She sighed and rested her head along the back of her seat. “The queen has asked me to become a formal part of her retinue,” she said with a gulp. “I am to be a Lady of the Bedchamber and to have my own room at the palace and an allowance made to me.” She moistened her lips. “I am to travel with her between the summer and winter palace, and it makes not one whit of difference to her that I am unwed. In fact,” she continued in awed tones, “it almost seems as though she prefers that I am not.”

She reached out a hand blindly, and Aimee grasped it. “But this is wonderful news, Trude,” she said warmly. “I am sure you are fully aware of the compliment she pays you.”

Trude nodded vigorously. “She is too good – too generous,” she said brokenly. “I do not deserve her condescension.” She pressed a hand to her brimming eyes, and Aimee found herself exchanging raised brows with Freda.

Ingrid gave a suppressed snort and straightened up from the fireplace, her creaky knees protesting. “Will that be all, milady?” she asked Aimee loudly.

“Thank you, Ingrid, yes.” The old servant stumped out of the room.

“You are happy to serve the southern queen, Trude?” Freda asked timorously.

“She is queen of all Karadok, Freda!” Magnatrude corrected her cousin with all the energy of a newly converted zealot. She took another sip of wine and let out a shuddering breath. “My only concern,” she said heavily, “is that you are not put out by this, Aimee.”

“Me?” Aimee exclaimed with surprise.

“After all,” Trude said heavily. “It is you that is Baroness Kentigern, not I.”

Aimee made haste to assure her that she could bear the disappointment, as Golda entered with a plate of marzipan cakes. “We’ve no spiced biscuits at present,” she said briskly, setting them down on a side table. “These will have to do. Mr. Stirling said he would make another batch directly.”