TWENTY-FIVE
For the third night, Rosa dreamed of Midwinter night, and the rite she was required to undertake if she wished to take her grandmother's place a priestess. Only a few days hence, and the gods had given her a man who would be living under her roof that very night. Almost as though they wished she would choose him.
A far better choice than Alard, for the knight would soon leave. The highborn knight probably thought peasant women shared their beds with noblemen like him as a matter of course, and he'd probably never think of her again afterward. A good thing, she told herself as she forced herself out of bed.
Rosa crept outside in the predawn light, holding her cloak tightly closed against the cold. She longed to return to bed, and see if she could wake the knight with a well-
