“With the approval of Brigid, thank you very much. I told her thatI wanted to study the beacon’s properties, perhaps adapt some of its design for our tracking stations.”
“And she believed that?”
Gareth hesitated, glancing up at me. “Brigid is very astute.”
“Meaning she let you, a librarian, venture out into the Old Country to find me on your own?”
“I wasn’t alone. I had Freyda.”
Freyda chirped in agreement, the sound muffled by my sleeve.
“And maybe Brigid didn’t think she could bear what she might find,” Gareth added softly.
That took the breath out of me, and I had very little breath as it was. When I closed my eyes, fresh tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Has she come to find you before?” Gareth asked.
Fragments of memories tickled the tired edges of my mind.Yearsof memories.
“No,” I whispered. “But she has seen me after. I’ve never explained myself to her, but I haven’t had to. At least she has never told Cira.” I dragged a hand across my eyes. “That’s a kindness I don’t deserve.”
After a moment, I heard him move closer to me. “Will you tell me why you came here?”
“I already have.”
“Yes, but whythistime?” He paused. “Brigid told me about Posey.”
The sound of her name was a dagger to my heart. “Then you have your answer.”
“What happened to her was not your fault.”
“It was, but that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
His gentle voice tore something open inside me, something furious and exhausted. “It hurts to be alive,” I said, an aching sadness lodged in my throat. “I’m tired of it. Today it’s Posey. Tomorrow it will be someone else. And someone else the next day, and on and on. Andsomehow, I’m never the one who dies. I’m the one who has to watch it happen and keep going. And I’mtiredof that. I’m tired of having to keep going.” I glared at him through my tears. “There. You’ve dragged it out of me. Are you happy?”
“Happy? No, Mara.” Gently he picked up my hand and folded it between his. He looked at me as if I were something rare and precious, something to keep close, to protect. “But I am glad you’re still here.”
I shook my head slowly. I couldn’t seem to stop crying. “You shouldn’t have come after me. Why couldn’t you just let me be?”
“Because I couldn’t imagine having to tell Farrin and Gemma the news and see the heartbreak on their faces,” he replied. “Because Cira needs you, and so does Brigid, and so do all the littles who adore you so much it makes them miss their families a bit less. But most of all, because I’m a selfish bastard and I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
The hoarse passion in his voice, the way it cut like a serrated knife, quieted me a little. When he leaned closer to wipe my tears, I stared hard at him, examining his face—for what, I didn’t know. For confirmation, perhaps, of this thing stretching unsaid between us. For a closer look at his bright green eyes.
“You’d be much better off without me storming around being mad at you for no good reason,” I said quietly.
His gaze locked on to mine, and he raised my unhurt hand to his lips and kissed each of my fingers—softly, reverently, each brush of his mouth a quiet prayer. “I would rather you storm around being mad at me for the rest of our lives,” he murmured against my skin, “than live in a world without you in it.”
My heart pounded an entire symphony against my breastbone.The rest of our liveswas a terrifying phrase that should have made me rip my hand away from him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I watched him lift my other hand to his lips just as tenderly, even though its bandagewas soaked and tattered. Freyda scuttled away with an annoyed flutter of feathers and retreated to the shadows to preen.
“I brought medicine for this,” Gareth said, cradling my hurt hand in his. “A stronger pain salve than Nanette has been using.”
“And where did you get that? Don’t tell me you’ve also taken to robbing apothecary shops.”
He released my hand with a smile and turned to his bag. “As fun asthatsounds, I’m afraid the answer is much less exciting. The Committee of New and Emerging Magics back at the university has been working on stronger variations of the standard medicines the armies stock at their camps. This one is meant for burns.” He held up a small tin. “May I?”
I held out my hand to him, and he cut through the bandage with small scissors he took from his bag. As he pulled the fabric away, it tugged at my wounds, and I hissed in pain. He stopped at once, but I nodded at him to keep going, and when the cold air hit my mangled skin, it was like plunging my hand into the moss all over again. I barely managed to stifle my scream.
