I longed to melt into him, to love him so thoroughly that all his old sadnesses would simply float away. But first he had to know that I understood what it meant for memories of home to leave wounds in their wake.
“I’m so sorry we’re taking you back there,” I whispered. “If you want to tell me more about them, if there’s anything I can do—”
He silenced me with two fingers against my lips. “Being with you here, tonight, is the best comfort I could ask for.”
Before I could say another word, he pulled me gently down against him and kissed me—softly at first, and then, as if we hadn’t already been making love all night, with a growing passion that made my toes curl in anticipation. I hooked one of my legs over his, tangling the sheets around us like spider silk, and shifted closer. He held my head in one hand and slid his other hand down my belly to gently open my thighs. I shivered at his touch, already slick and ready.
“Gods, there you are,” he moaned against my cheek. “There you are, sweet Mara. The most beautiful creature to have ever lived.”
Then he pressed two fingers inside me, and then three, working me with such focused care, and breathing such a passionate litany into my hair, that by the time he entered me fully, I was gone. My mind was quiet, my body sang with happiness, and sleep, when it came at last, was so serene and complete that not even the most stubborn dreams could find me.
Chapter 35
The next morning, my passage through the greenway to Rosewarren knocked a constellation of fresh bruises into my skin. I’d been expecting this violence. With the unstable Mist pushing farther south every day, all the southern greenways were being pounded with turbulence that the wayfarers who’d designed them never could have anticipated.
Still, I felt unduly shaken in both body and mind when the greenway deposited me onto the grounds of Rosewarren. True winter had descended onto the priory; a thick blanket of snow cast an eerie hush over the nearby woods. I heard no birdsong, no rustling bare branches, not even the whispers of the Mist roiling just outside the priory walls. The wards had held, I was glad to see. The air around Rosewarren was crisp and clear, a stark contrast to the hissing gray world beyond it.
I took the long way around, through the stables and training yards and across the vast sloping lawn. I told myself it was because I wanted to make a quick inspection of the grounds before going inside, but my bones knew the truth: I was afraid.
The house was quiet, warm, entirely ordinary. A soft bustle of noise floated up from the kitchens; it was nearly breakfast time. From the direction of the barracks came the faintest sounds of girls laughing,chatting, bathing, snoring. The night patrols would have just settled in for a few hours of sleep, the morning patrols were already gone, and everyone else was likely preparing for their daily assignments: training, feeding their familiars, grooming the horses, cleaning weapons.
If I didn’t know better, I would have never guessed that chaos had so recently flooded these halls.
All morning, since I’d woken at Gareth’s side and slipped quietly out of bed, memories of that day had been tearing through my mind: all the littles possessed by the violence of a demon; the arrow that had pierced Berthel’s neck; Gareth reigning over the horrific scene in the Warden’s office with a smile that was not his own.
But that wasn’t so very recent, was it?I heard the Warden’s voice in my head; I’d been hearing it all morning. And it was right. The truth was that I’d been gone for three long weeks.
For the first time since I’d arrived at Rosewarren as a ten-year-old child, I felt like a stranger in my own home.
Footsteps were coming down the barrack stairs, and I turned toward them with a jolt of happiness. I knew that gait; the sound of it loosened the knot in my stomach.
A few seconds later, Brigid emerged from the stairwell, yawning and sleep-rumpled, her cropped blond hair only haphazardly brushed. She looked in dire need of her favorite breakfast: coffee and a sausage roll. Recalling that silly, small detail lifted my spirits. I hadn’t forgotteneverything.
But as soon as she saw me, Brigid’s eyes went wide and her face paled, and suddenly that knot in my stomach pulled even tighter.
She hurried toward me, not for an embrace but to grip my arms hard in both hands.
“Whatever you’ve been doing,” she said in a rush, “wherever you’ve been, go back. She’llkillyou, Mara.”
Her words turned me so cold that I could hardly breathe. “What?”I said, stupid with shock. “Who?”
My answer came with an icy rush of air, a swirl of darkness, and a sharp knock to the back of my head. I gasped for breath, my vision flickering. Someone was dragging me by my collar; the fabric bunched tightly under my chin.
Then whoever it was dropped me onto the floor. There was a rug under me, cold and stiff, caked with mud. Our rugs always needed cleaning in the winter, with so many feet tracking snow inside. I knew this particular rug, those dark swirls of midnight blue and brick red—I’d walked across them every day. I was in the entrance hall.
And I knew who it was looming above me too, though my mind refused to believe it, scrambling for some other possibility it couldn’t find.
I forced myself to look up and meet her eyes.
The Warden stared back at me, fury etched into the new lines of exhaustion on her face. I’d never seen her look so haggard. She prided herself on meticulous discipline even when it came to her looks, seldom letting us see her with even a hair out of place.
Haggard.Only yesterday I’d teased Gareth with that very word. The thought made me want to cry.
“How dare you,” the Warden said. Normally her voice was smooth, unreadable. Now it vibrated with anger so thick I could taste it. “I sent you away with him to keep him safe, to keep you happy, to give us all a chance to recover in peace from the violence he allowed into our home. And instead of returning once your mission was complete, you left. Forweeks. No word from you, no request for aid. You could have been dead, for all we knew. But you weren’t, were you?” She took a step closer, pinning me in place with her eyes. “You were with him.”
I tried to find the right words, my heart pounding at the back of my throat. “Madam, we weren’t alone, we were working with my sisters to—”
Her hand met my face like a lash of fire. She struck me again andagain, each blow harder than the last, until I could no longer hold myself up. I lay trembling on the rug, the world spinning and full of stars.
