Disarray and Disclosure
In Fenith’s small bathhouse, Irenya wished she could immerse herself in the warm water instead of having it lap around her buttocks, but Leachim had given her strict instructions: ‘Do not wet the scar until the skin has healed over, and no perfume in the water.’ And her skin hadn’t quite healed. The sound of children’s chatter drifted to her through an open window. How does a woman who’s had three children manage to look so good?
‘Lady Irenya,’ Fenith had said, standing there in the sunshine, her voice like melting honey. ‘You are the one they call Songbird. I was so moved by what you did at Holdfast. I heard of it just two days ago,’ she explained. ‘A merchant told me the story.’ She leaned a little closer, offering a gem of information. ‘Holdfast is clear of mis
