The Warden stood at the top of the snowy slope, watching our approach. And even from so far away, with her face hidden in shadow, I could feel the sting of her fury.
Chapter 20
The Warden said not a word to me until Gareth was safely back in his room—guarded by Brigid, at my request—and we were alone in her office. Once the door was closed behind us, she wasted no time getting to the point.
“How dare you,” she snapped, rounding on me. “After what’s just happened, you run off without telling anyone? And with the man whose mind was overtaken by a demon only three hours ago?”
At first I was too shocked to respond. I’d seen her angry many times, but I’d never—notonce—seen her cry. And now her dark eyes shone with tears.
“I thought it best to keep him away from the others,” I managed to say. “Until things settle, he’s at risk.”
“And, perhaps, a threat.”
“The demon is dead,” I said, bristling at the implication in her voice. “Gareth is no longer a danger and should be left in peace to recover.”
“I didn’t realize you were an expert on the subject of demonic possession.”
“And I didn’t realize that your vaunted wards were so deeply flawed that they would allow a demon working for the enemy to enter Rosewarren.”
I took advantage of her stunned silence to press on, all the angry grief that had been brewing inside me since Posey’s death bubbling to the surface. “You direct your ire at Gareth and at me when in fact it’syouwho are to blame for what’s happened.”
She recovered quickly, touching the fresh bandage on her forehead with shaking fingers. “Insolent child. The vast majority of demons are not like your friend Talan. They are cunning and sadistic and have very little regard for humans.”
“Yes, Madam, but that does not invalidate my point.”
“And I cannot be expected to stand against Kilraith’s operatives all on my own.”
I ignored the twinge of sympathy in my heart. “You are not on your own. You have all of us, and you have an entire team of the university’s best and brightest at your disposal. But whenever anyone comes to you with a suggestion about modifying or fortifying the wards, you turn them away.”
She shook her head as I spoke and finally let out a stifled harsh sob. “What if something had happened to you?”
The question was sharp, furious. And though she held her mouth in a thin line, it trembled nonetheless as she glared at me, as if she were fighting against some great simmering emotion.
Once again I was speechless. I knew how to handle an angry Warden; I knew how to argue with her. I didn’t know how to stand against her tears.
“What would we all do if you were killed?” she went on. “What wouldIdo without you, Mara?”
Her voice broke on that last question, and I got the terrible feeling that she was going to truly cry right there in front of me.
I cleared my throat and reached for calm. “I’m sorry for speaking so harshly. I know that you’re tired and that you try your best—”
“Do you think I’m oblivious to your many reckless ventures?”
That was a blow. The boldness that had spurred me to challenge her fled, and in its place, a sick, cold feeling trickled down my body.
The Warden smiled tightly. “Yes, I can see that you did.” She moved to stand behind her desk. “I’ve not said anything until now, though perhaps I should have. I trusted you to know your limits and to remember your duty before you went too far. But that has always been the risk of loving you: that my affection would blind me to your faults.” She sighed and placed her hands flat on the desktop. “I suppose it can happen to any devoted mother.”
And that—that was the thing that nearly kicked my legs out from under me.
Since the night of my trials, I’d known I was her favorite. But never had she been this candid with me, and never had she said the words I’d long ago given up hope of hearing. I wanted to be angry at her. Iwasangry at her, and more than a little afraid of her—her erratic behavior, her volatile temper, the cruelty she could so deftly deal.
But standing there before her, helpless in the grip of an embarrassing, desperate need, all I could do was whisper, “Do you love me, Madam?”
She glanced up at me irritably. “Well, of course I do, Mara. Someday I’ll birth a daughter of my own blood, and I won’t love her half as much as I do you. Unfortunate child. But she’ll learn to live with it.”
Somehow my scrambling thoughts managed to hold on to that piece of information: the Warden did not, in fact, have a secret daughter. Whether that was cause for relief or urgent worry, I couldn’t decide, and I didn’t care to try. My stupid, confused heart had no capacity for it.
“But the feelings of my future child are not important right now,”the Warden said briskly. She sat in her chair, opened a leather packet of paper, and began writing. “What’s important is giving you time and space to consider your actions and hopefully find the resolve to make better decisions in the future. And you weren’t wrong tonight, even if you shouldn’t have acted without consulting me: Professor Fontaine should indeed be kept out of harm’s way while we tend to our dead. He’ll accompany you.”
