At dawn all people could think of was the coming fair.
In the fields the last of the barley had been cut and tied. A lot remained to be done but the worst was past them and the weather had been lenient. Already the villagers were working downstream on the land that would welcome the festivities.
In the castle both servants and guards were impatient for it.
"Will you take her with you?" A men-at-arms asked another. "Come on, go and dance, find her some gift!"
"Her father is ill, she will refuse."
"Idiot! You think she wants to spend the day at an old man's bed? Ask her or I punch you!"
Away from the barrack, at the fountain where women had gathered to draw water by the bucket, the rumors were the same.
"How about honey cake? There will be, right?"
"The last time, there was a jeweler. Oh, I would kill for a necklace!"
They pushed her nearly into the water. "It's for nobles you dunce! Be happy if your wedding has a copper brooch!"
"My cousin married a merchant. She said he gave her gold rings."
They called her a liar and laughed all the same. None of them noticed the silver dog that was hiding nearby. They dispersed, back to the buildings carrying buckets on their shoulders.
Further away, near the keep two women were working on a patch of land filled with flowers.
There they toiled amongst the insects, fighting to keep the buttercups fresh. Clovers, daisies and marigolds, anything they had gathered bundled in the same space. The dew had not yet faded, weighed on the petals and the stems.
They had worked in silence so far, but Ophelie stepped back.
"You won't tell me what happened yesterday?"
"It's none of our business. The wedding is near, let's make sure their flowers are ready by then."
"They look fine!" The woman rolled her eyes. "Couldn't they find at least some lilac? This is just field flowers for peasants."
Adele smiled and rubbed the petals.
"Just like us."
"Noble weddings are dull anyway. They show up, get water splashed on their face and leave. I would rather not get married at all!"
She looked at her companion, saw that small smile lingering and sighed. She too could feel their time at the castle coming to an end.
Less and less was asked of them, to the point that tending to flowers was becoming their main duty. To any hard laborer that was a sure sign, but it was of course at night that their idleness hit the hardest.
Again, neither felt the beast's eyes on them.
But some agitation at the gate drew Joan's attention away. A servant was rushing to announce the arrival of mother Clothilde and there, at the entrance, stood two women, one old and one far younger, in black robes so heavy as to pass them for men.
They didn't wait for an authorization to enter. Mother Clothilde could come and go as she pleased.
The old woman had a wrinkled face but only gray strands on her black curly hair. She looked imposing, especially alongside her younger peer.
Joan watched them pass and kept wondering if they could perceive her. But neither seemed to react to the werewolf lying not a dozen meters from them.
At the keep they were invited to wait in the chapel while a twin would prepare for an audience in the throne room. While the saintess' blessed agreed, they asked in turn that brother Aymon be present.
And so people went searching for him.
It finally dawned on Joan why the priest had gone to hide in the bakehouse. She slipped through the back, dug under the stone and emerged among the floor bags and tables, not far from the young man who was huddling in a corner.
Soon someone called at the door. The baker went to open, assured he had seen no priest then went to the reserve to see his guest.
"They are really looking for you, brother." The baker said.
"Yes, I am so sorry for causing you all this trouble."
"You don't say, I could lose my head here. What did you do, steal the silverware?"
Joan knew firsthand the Pivert family had little if any of that.
Brother Aymon shook his head. He was smiling at his protector with that sheepish smile of an infant, tainted by fear.
"I want to stay at the castle, but mother Clothilde has come to bring me back. If she can't find me, I can stay here, so..."
"Oh. You said it was a love story. Eh, this won't get the castle damned, right?"
"No no no!" Brother Aymon protested. "It's just, if the castle can't find me..."
"Eh, brother, I shouldn't meddle in your affairs but you don't seem to have given this much thought. If you want my advice, go and tell your high priest that you must stay."
"But... b... bu..."
The baker leaned on him like one would a child.
"You are going to incur the wrath of both the saintess and the bear. Not even wolves could save you then! Go and make your case, it's the best course."
Aymon had no courage to resist, nor could he really from a man who could denounce him on a whim. He was truly cornered.
Yet the more that reality pressed on him, the more he shrinked in that little space.
"He is right." A cold voice cut the air.
The baker almost fell back from surprise at the sight of the lady that had entered so silently in his workshop. Why she had so much floor dust on her skirtle escaped him as well.
But she only cared for the cowering priest who, at her sight, had begun to shake and tear.
"Those priestesses are waiting. Let's go."
All the sudden he realized she meant to accompany him there and the joy of that died instantly, replaced by a dread that had him up and rushing past her to block her path.
"You can't!" He nearly screamed, then faltered. "M... milady y... I will go, you... you can't..."
Her arm slammed him against the wall.
"Why?"
In other circumstances her breath on his face would have had him dizzy, but Joan could read the fear in his eyes and knew what it was.
She could not be allowed to be seen by any of those human mothers.
Which could only mean that he knew. He definitely knew.
"B... Bec... Because..."
His strangled voice was drowning not even from her choke.
The lady released him and watched him slide down, legs too weak to keep him standing. He struggled to get back up and toward the door.
"Then go." She ordered. "And make sure you stay at the castle."
She didn't even need to add a threat for him to nod with all the strength of a wreck and rush out, almost tripping as he did. His panic had the realm fade around him.
Her gaze turned on the baker and made him step back further.
"You. What does a wedding look like? What flowers, what gifts?"
"Milady," the man panicked, "I am just a baker!"
"There is a hole in your floor."
He turned around to look at where she pointed, saw the hole between the bags and wondered what kind of badger could have done that.
When he turned again, the lady was gone.