Tears stream from Cara’s eyes as huge, gulping sobs wrack her body. We’re far enough away from the rest of the group that her crying shouldn’t wake anyone, though I scramble for some way to quiet the tears.
The only thing I can think of, the one thing I probably shouldn’t do, is to kiss her.
Our lips meet, and I taste Cara’s salty tears. Her sobs stall, ending in soft hiccups against my mouth. Her hand slides up my shirt, cupping my breast, but I don’t attempt the same. The last thing I want to do is remind her of the torment she underwent at Corvin’s hands. Can I ever touch her again, knowing what was done to her, what kinds of memories I might be bringing to the surface?
I pull back at that thought. Cara straightens, and her eyes search mine.
“You can’t, can you?” she asks. “You can’t bear to touch me now. Not after what he did.”
I reach out and stroke her cheek, wiping away stray tears. “I just think I should give you time to heal, Cara. What you went through—No one should have to experience that, and the trauma will haunt you for quite some time.”
She looks away, fresh tears welling in her eyes, and I gently guide her face back to me. “I didn’t say ‘never,’ Cara. Just … not right now. Not yet.”
“What if I never heal?”
I offer her a small smile, the only gift I have in me to give. “You will. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. This won’t keep you down for long.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, and we sit together like that until dawn, with Cara dozing lightly against me. I imagine it must look quite comical, what with our height difference, but I’m glad for it.
When the sun crests over the mountains, we pack up our meager belongings and venture down the final slope towards the convent. Below us, several bodies dot the hillside in front of the convent doors. Acolytes, most dressed in the traditional flame-colored robes, standing watch for our arrival. A few wait as panthers, their tails twitching in the grass.
I grip Cara’s hand tight as we descend, praying to Igni that we find Father Aron in a forgiving mood.
Chapter 22
Cara
It takes us hours to get our whole party down the mountainside and across the field to the convent. The panthers wait the entire time, never moving, and their stares bore into me as we approach. Especially disturbing is the expression on the face of the austere man at their center. Tall and menacing in appearance with dark hair and amber eyes like Sable’s, he stands with a regal air. His bright orange robes flutter in the light breeze, but the darkness in his gaze dims even the vibrant garb.
“Father Aron,” Sable whispers to me when we’re still out of earshot. “He’s the man I have to convince to let us stay. Try to let me do the talking. He is … resistant to change.”
I nod and squeeze her hand in response. I’ve talked myself into enough trouble in recent weeks; better to let her take the lead.
We all slow as we near the expansive compound, and Sable releases my hand to step forward. She raises her chin and straightens her shoulders, and I’m proud of her for doing this. She always seems so meek and timid; it must be taking a lot to do this, especially if this Father Aron is one of the people who caused her so much pain growing up.
“Father Aron.” Her words ring out crisp and clear in the late afternoon air.
“Sable.” His response is short, curt. A bit rude, if I’m being honest. “I see you have quite literally brought the wolves into our midst.”
She shakes her head and takes another step. “Refugees, Father. We were prisoners until a few days ago. These wolves were imprisoned for … disagreeing with the status quo. They wanted a better life than what they had under the Elders’ thumbs, and they were punished for it. We are seeking asylum. Sanctuary.”
Father Aron raises a groomed brow. “Sanctuary, hm? How interesting that you think I would grant sanctuary to my sworn enemies.”
Sable waves her arm in a sweeping gesture. “You’ll find no enemies here, Father.”
He steps forward, and out of the corner of my eye I catch movement as several of the panthers in animal form move with him. “Do you deny that they are wolves?”
“No. I deny that they are foes.”
“A fine distinction, but one that can be dangerous if you are wrong.”
“They helped me. They could have left me to die in the dungeon, but they rescued me and nursed me to health. They risked their own lives to save mine. I will vouch for each and every wolf here.”
The priest’s lip curls up at the word “wolf,” but he takes a step back and gestures to the convent doors. “Well, then, may our deaths be on your head if you’re wrong.”
Not quite the welcome we were hoping for, but I suppose it’s better than being turned away.
We start towards the doors, but as they’re opened, Father Aron stops us. “A few ground rules, if I may: There will be no worship of Solari within these walls. If you wish to pray to your heathen God, then you must leave. Meals are at dawn and dusk, and you must all bathe before we assign beds. Fresh clothing will be provided when you exit the bathhouse. And no shifting. You stay here, you stay human.”
