“Beneath her bare feet, soft grass studded with meadowsweet and tiny clover blossoms flowed cool and velvety. Ariella ran mostly for the joy of release, but partly from guilt—if she got out of earshot of the Manor quickly enough, she would be able to say in truth that she hadn't heard Magda calling her. And inevitably, her chaperone would call, as soon as she realized that Ariella was not at the loom in the solar, at her embroidery frame in her room, or her fine sewing in the garden. Magda was s...upposed to be educating her— Except that she doesn't teach me anything that hasn't to do with a needle, Ariella thought with youthful scorn. Everything I've learned about herbs and simples came from the monks at the Abbey. And everything I've learned about the forest I learned by myself, with no one to teach me. So there! Magda had become more fretful, more insistent of late that her charge "behave as a proper lady." Perhaps it was the advent of her sixteenth birthday that had brought all this nonsense on—Magda seemed to place great significance on it, though as far as Ariella could see, one more birthday made no difference at all to her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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