Freda broke down as Damaris and the other women struggled to hold her. Lord Naman was already giving orders, sending me to search once more.
Freda's cry rang through the yard—until—
"Mama?"
The tiny voice broke through the cruel night.
Her cries ceased as Manor doors opened.
A tall, red-haired man stepped out, a child in his arms—hair as crimson as his own.
Every head turned.
"P—Peter?" Freda whispered, wide-eyed.
"Why are you crying, mama?"
Fresh tears escaped from Freda's eyes. She broke free from the women restraining her and rushed toward the man who held her son.
Gently, he placed Peter into his mother's trembling arms.
She drew him close and enveloped his small figure in a tight hug, nearly crushing him beneath her embrace.
Zuri briefly explained how the boy had found his way to his cottage.
Unable to express herself, Freda's gratitude poured out in broken thanks. She apologized for whatever trouble Peter had caused him, and vowed to repay his kindness.
And slowly, the unrest that had seized Wisteria began to settle.
Damaris walked the path home, but he also took the same road ahead of her.
Leaving a careful distance between them, she watched the back of the man, still unable to fathom that he had actually cared for Peter. The child even joyfully declared that he had been well fed. As though that was not shocking enough, he had handed Freda a pouch the size of a pineapple—filled with sugar!
Not even the sticky brown kind—but white sugar!
Something so scarce and precious that even nobles called it white gold, and yet he had given such a quantity, saying it was for Peter's milk.
And all that was done with a face as hard and emotionless as a coconut. Even as the villagers thanked him, his expression remained unchanged.
Why was he so hard to read?
One moment he seemed to be insulting her without uttering a word, and the next, he yielded land to her and helped a stubborn child.
He was a mystery, this man.
That being said, was he not aware she followed behind him?
Then again, it would not be the first time he feigned ignorance of her presence.
Very well then. She would announce herself.
"Just so you know," she began, "I am not tailing after you or anything. It simply is much faster to take the path through the woods to get to my end than circling it."
As expected, he neither paused nor answered.
She would press further then…
"For someone who fails woefully at communicating, I was utterly aghast to find out you tended to Peter. I had deemed you the sort to slam the door upon a helpless boy and leave him out for the night's cold to sink its teeth into his bones."
At her words, he finally stopped, and a triumphant smile crawled to her lips, for she thought—
At last, he will speak.
But then, he looked over his shoulder, the flames from her torch flickered in his gray eyes. She saw his lips slowly part, and awaited the sound of his voice…
Nothing came.
His lips closed, he faced forward, and his feet began to move again.
He was blatantly ignoring her.
The rude mutt!
And so they walked in silence until Zuri reached his cottage, while Damaris pressed on into the woods.
Just as he reached for the door, she turned back.
"Hey!"
He paused.
"A—about the land—" she bit her lip, pride refusing to let her speak the words that rested on the tip of her tongue.
His hand stayed on the latch, his back still turned to her.
"Lord Naman did grant me the land first, so it is only fair that it remains mine."
"Do not think you are being kind by yielding it to me… H—however—"
Her gaze wandered until they fell to her feet and remained there.
"—you did keep Peter safe. So perhaps… we might share the—"
The door slammed.
Her head snapped up.
She stared at the closed door, her head tilted, brows creased with confusion.
She turned and took the path through the forest to her hut, still trying to make sense of what had just occurred.
Only after she reached her door did it dawn on her…
"He slammed the door in my face."
Saying it aloud made his silent insult more vivid.
"That damned half-baked gardener!" she shouted into the night. "How dare he shut the door while I spoke with all sincerity!" She scoffed and extinguished her torch.
"Ah!" She clapped her hands together.
She ran inside and went straight to the hearth.
The fire had died, and the soup she had left boiling was scorched dry. She would have to start afresh—and Milcah would kill her for wasting food.
"Ahh! This is all his fault! That witless mongrel! Surely he was kicked out of the palace for his lack of character! And the sugar—he must have stolen it. How else could he be in possession of so much, and give it away as though it were nothing? Thief!"
And so another night passed with Zuri being called every vile name Damaris could think of. When morning came, it came with a hardened heart ready for battle.