Chapter Eleven
LocustWillow stared hard at Katkin, too shocked for the moment to speak. At last she whispered, “My gods, it is you! It has been so long, I did not recognize my own sister.”
Katkin smiled, thinking that Willow looked much the same, though it had been sixteen years since they last met. A little plumper perhaps, more careworn, but her eyes and tired smile were as kind as ever. “Yes, it is Katkin. May I come in?”
“Of course. But we will have to talk in the kitchen. Roseberry is upstairs, sleeping. I don’t think she would recognize you, but we cannot be too careful. You are still a marked woman here, my sister.”
She followed Willow through the house and down the stairs to a tidy, whitewashed kitchen. The cook gave her a cursory glance and went back to her pastry. Katkin put
