Night in the stables was dark, even with the moon in its third quarter, already well into its journey across the sky as the sun set. The awning kept the stall bathed in shadow. When Marin stood to look over the half-door, he could just make out the wheat in the fields. It looked silver in the lunar luminescence. But without torchlight or an oil lamp to add a golden glow, only tones of gray filled the air.

And it was cold. The straw roll offered him some comfort, but Marin only had his robes to spread over his body.

Not that there was much of a chill. The spring air was actually quite pleasant. Plus, the horses, quiet except for the occasional huffing exhale, radiated heat. But it wasn't the same without someone to lean against.

Why hadn't Tilly wanted to stay with him? To at least linger a little while? Talk to him as he ate his meal?

It was her absence that made the night dark. The air cold.

Had he done something wrong? Did the visit to the Abbot remind her of why he was in exile? The feelings he once–so recently–had for Jocelyn?

As he closed his eyes, the slight buzz of wine dancing in the periphery of his thoughts, he couldn't shake the questions that floated across his mind. But, as he lay on his mat, he slowly drifted off into a fitful sleep.

He awoke to a rooster's crow and for a moment, surrounded by straw and the sounds of horse hooves, he thought he was back in Hobson's loft. But as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he remembered the purgatory he was in.

Getting up, he rolled his straw mat and stashed it in the far corner, hoping the shadows would keep it hidden. Then, he trudged off to find his father, along with breakfast.

Hobard was waiting for him, eyes anxiously darting from side to side, not being sure which way Marin would approach. The stables were on the far side of the compound, and it would have been equidistant to walk around the walls in either direction. As Marin made his way closer to his father, he noticed other medics milling around just inside the gates. A pair walked out, heading into town, and when they saw Marin they gaped, then quickly averted their eyes.

Hobard noticed Marin then. "How did you sleep?" he asked.

Marin shook his head, deciding to pay those other medics no mind, and he walked over to his father. As he sat, Hobard handed him a steaming bowl. "I slept fine," Marin lied. "Did you speak with Camden?" He blew on the porridge before bringing the bowl to his lips.

"Yes. He said it didn't matter to him where you slept, as long as you made yourself as invisible as possible during the day."

Marin swallowed. "I thought you'd come back after you spoke to him."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that. I just..." Hobard's hand rubbed at his knees and grimaced.

"Have you been applying your ointment every night?" Marin asked.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. It's you who I'm concerned about."

"Father, I can make you more ointment now that I'm back. I'm sure Tilly can help me gather the supplies."

"I'm sure she could," Hobard smiled, his eyes drifting over Marin's head.

"Did I hear my name?" Came a voice that instantly flooded Marin's chest with the light and heat he had lacked the night before.

Marin turned, his grin so wide his cheeks threatened to burst. "Good morning, Tilly."

"I'm heading into town, but you're welcome to join me. I can wait until you're done with breakfast."

Marin gulped down the rest of the porridge, a few drips streaking down his chin from the corners of his mouth. "Perfect timing, I just finished." He handed the empty bowl to his father. "Thank you, father."

Hobard smiled knowingly at his son.

As Tilly and Marin walked into town, they didn't hold hands. Their fingers did not brush lightly against each other. Tilly seemed to make sure of that, keeping herself just beyond Marin's reach.

"I missed you last night," he finally said. They were far enough away from The Order's compound not to be seen, and no one was within hearing distance on the road, so he felt it was safe to speak.

"Some nutrix have been asking me questions," she said without looking at him.

"Questions?"

"I was away for several nights."

Marin took a few steps before responding. "You could have been off visiting family."

"Well, when I returned, I was with you. People saw me talking with you. Returning on the same day was not a coincidence."

At first he wasn't sure what she was implying. Nutrix and medics often traveled together. There was no suspicion in that. Except–except that he wasn't really a medic anymore, was he? He'd been kicked out because the Abbot didn't deem him safe enough to be around the convent.

"Do people think that I'm..." He thought about the two medics who refused to look at him, and he wondered what rumors were spreading.

"There is talk," she said, still not meeting his eyes.

He reached out and tugged on her sleeve, forcing her to stop and look at him. "Let them talk. I'll wait out this sentence, and then, when the Abbot grants me an audience, I'll clear my name. But Tilly, if I have to suffer for the next five months without even you, I'm not sure that I will make it."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said each word with slow, forceful emphasis. "We just need to be careful."

"I'll do anything that you tell me to do."

"Well, right now I just want your company as I make some round and check in on patients."

He happily followed her. First, they checked in on a little girl who had broken her arm the previous week. Tilly checked the girl's sling and made sure that her mother had enough willow-bark tea to help with managing the pain. Then, they stopped by to see an elderly man who was suffering from congestion. Marin watched as Tilly listened to the man's chest and felt his neck, assessing his humors. He felt a powerful urge to step in, to offer his own opinion, but he resisted. Tilly gave the man an ointment with strong vapors to rub on his torso and a tea to drink. She knew what she was doing. Patients responded to her quiet bedside manner, her confident demeanor, and her vast knowledge of herbs.

Walking with Tilly from patient to patient, he almost forgot everything that happened. He wasn't the one practicing medicine, but the routine was comforting and familiar. "Can I walk with you every day?" he asked as they left the old man's cottage.

"I'd be happy if you never left my side." Tilly was walking closer to Marin now. Allowing their bodies to bump gently against each other every few steps. "But I'm not sure if you want to accompany me on my next stop."

"Why not?"

"Because I have to go check on Jocelyn."

The name froze him. The name of the woman who incited such strong and opposite emotions in his chest. Lust that had festered into, if not hate, then definitely anger.

"You're right. I'm not ready to face her," he admitted. "I can't believe that you are her midwife."

Tilly looked over at him with a half-crooked smile. "It's because I'm her midwife I know that even if... you know.... there still wouldn't be any way for you to have conceived this child with her. I have the knowledge that will clear your name without you having to reveal anything private."

He knew she was right, but he still didn't like the idea. "Maybe I can sit over by the center fountain and wait for you?"

"Sure. I won't be that long."

"I'll miss you while you are gone," Marin said.

"Not as much as I'll miss you." And just like that, he was alone again.