“Yes, Mother Mabel.”
No matter how hard I fight the blush, it rages red across my cheeks. Has the man awakened at last, then?
“Brielle,” Mother Mabel says, her black gaze drilling into mine. “Is this true?”
I think of our Seven Decrees, the bedrock of our faith. The seventh, the most inviolable.
Thou shalt not lie.
But I made my choice days ago. I chose this man’s life over Thornbrook’s safety. I hadn’t thought of what perils I might invite. I’d thought only of the unanswered questions, and above all, helping a person in need.
“Well, my dear?” The abbess stares at me, waiting.
My leaden legs shamble toward the door, which I unlock before stepping aside.
She crosses the threshold. I fist the fabric of my dress in my clammy palms. It is entirely possible I will be banished from Thornbrook. That is a decision I must live with, and yet, an overwhelming dread depletes my lungs, for I have risked all that I hold dear tosavethis man, who means nothing to me.
“Harper, can you help me with something?”
The younger woman saunters forward. “Yes, Mother Mabel.”
“Can you please point out this mysterious visitor?”
There is a pause. “A man was here! I am certain.”
“Then where is this man now?”
My heart lifts with tentative hope as I enter behind them. Torchlight from the corridor illuminates the bed where the man had lain this morning. But the cot is empty. The rumpled blankets have been smoothed. The spots of blood staining the floor have been scrubbed clean. It takes every effort not to gape in bewilderment.
My attention cuts to the window. Closed shutters, latch secured. The door to my room was locked as well. How, then, did the man manage to escape without notice?
“I heard someone, Mother Mabel, Iswearit.” Harper’s blue gaze scours the room. “Brielle was acting oddly. I knew something was amiss.”
Mother Mabel turns, straightening to her impressive height. “The next time you decide to waste my time with petty games, you will know the sting of the lash. Am I clear?”
Harper’s dumbfounded silence is perhaps the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced.
“You will have latrine duty for a week. Think deeply on your actions and whether your values align with those of Thornbrook.” With that, she takes her leave, heels clicking down the corridor.
Quiet engulfs us. Harper’s stillness pricks at me, yet I remain motionless, a hind caught in an open field.
Slowly, I begin to retreat into the hall.
Harper snags my arm, fingernails gouging so deeply into my skin I’m surprised she does not draw blood. “I don’t know what you’re hiding,” she snarls, “but I’m going to find out.” Before I can shake her off, she storms past me, slamming the door behind her.
My hands tremble as I light my lamp. Then I sink onto the lip of my mattress, the bed frame groaning beneath my weight. I do not understand. A man cannot walk through walls. Neither can a man lock a window from the outside. Though the bloodstains are gone, my pillow bears the imprint of his head, and a springtime aroma saturates the room.
“Well, that was quite the scene.”
I whirl around, freeing my blade from its sheath and leveling it at the man’s sternum. He slouches next to the now-open window, a shoulder propped against the wall, completely unperturbed.
A pair of clover eyes take me in.
We stare at each other, neither of us moving. Red-edged panic recedes from my vision, and my pulse eventually returns to rest. It is the man from the wood. Strange, indeed, but not a stranger.
Somehow, he has managed to procure a set of clean clothes. A green tunic hits mid-thigh over a pair of form-fitting trousers tucked into boots of dark, supple leather. His shoulders are broad, though his physique, on the whole, is on the leaner side. He does not wear his cloak. My fingers twitch around the dagger.
“Do you agree?” the man asks, canting his head. An errant curl falls across his forehead.
