“Our dead?” I said faintly.
“Three littles and five members of our household staff. No grown Roses, thank the gods.” She tore out the paper she’d been writing on and folded it into crisp thirds.
Three littles.Five members of our staff. I clasped my hands behind my back so hard that my healing palm screamed with pain. But I had to hold on tosomething. My head was a mess, and my heart felt even worse. I wasn’t sure whether to celebrate being sent away with Gareth or protest on behalf of my sanity.
“Where will you send us?” I asked.
“North.” She sealed the letter, first with wax, then with a wordless binding spell that made my eyes water. “The Falkeron Cloisters. I’ve received intelligence that the monks there have been conducting their own search for Zelphenia and may have stumbled upon a lead. Here.” She held out the letter. “This is for the Blessed Abbot. He’s a curmudgeon obsessed with etiquette and appreciates a proper note of introduction upon receiving visitors.”
But I was still stuck on the fact that the Falkeron monks had possibly found a clue as to Zelphenia’s whereabouts. That they had been searching for their patron goddess didn’t surprise me; after Mhorghast’s destruction, word of the gods’ return had spread quickly.
Whatdidsurprise me was that the Warden had learned about their efforts only through the Order’s intelligence network.
Normally I wouldn’t have hesitated to voice these thoughts toher, but after everything that had happened, it took me a moment to recover my courage. “Why didn’t they share their findings with you voluntarily?”
The Warden’s mouth turned down irritably at the corners. “Pride? Caution? An overblown commitment to honoring Zelphenia’s secretive nature by being secretive themselves? The Blessed Abbot’s deranged sense of humor? I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Have they told anyone else what they’ve found?”
“That would be incredibly foolish of them, wouldn’t it? Here.” She waved the letter at me. “Leave as soon as you can. I’m sure the professor will want to bring all manner of devices so he can search for the remaining anchors during your journey, but I trust you’ll be able to rein him in? You’ll need to travel light and fast. It’s a bad winter already up there.”
I took the letter from her, an uneasy feeling niggling at the back of my mind. So many things about what had happened here today didn’t feel right, and my instinct told me that if I correctly assembled them I would uncover some crucial truth. But doing so felt impossible; I didn’t even know how to begin.
The Warden noticed my hesitation and looked up from her papers. Her eyes were dry, and her countenance had smoothed out to its usual impeccable state. Even her posture had improved. “You can leave now, Mara.”
I picked one worry out of the dozens fighting for dominance in my mind. “With all due respect, Madam, five minutes ago you said Gareth could be dangerous and scolded me for being near him. Now you’re sending us on a mission together? I don’t understand.”
She sighed, returning her gaze to her paper-strewn desk. “You’ve noticed, I’m sure, that I’ve not been myself of late. That incident with the fae was regrettable behavior on my part. I know it upset you, and for that I’m sorriest of all.”
I went very still at the mention of Posey. Her death hadupsetme?
“Yes, Madam,” I replied, my fingers clammy around the sealed letter.
“The stresses of war are wearing on me more than I’d care to admit,” she continued. “I find myself to be full of contradictions these days. Rash decisions, bad judgments. I may have to rely on you more heavily, Mara, in the days to come. All of that is to say, I know very well that Professor Fontaine is no danger. I was afraid for you, and I let that fear run away with my temper and my reason. If the touch of the demon were still upon him, I’d feel it, as I feel everything that happens within these walls.” She smiled sadly, her gaze distant. “I suppose I must have that baby sooner rather than later. Does that frighten you? The idea of a new Warden?”
“No, Madam,” I answered honestly. “It will be an enormous change for everyone, but we will adapt, as we always do.”
I felt that there was more to say, something important that crowded the back of my mouth. But I couldn’t find the right words, and then the Warden was waving me away.
“Dismissed,” she said, returning her attention to her papers. I knew that tone and didn’t dare risk defying her when I’d already dared so much.
It wasn’t until I was packing supplies in my room later that night that I understood what they’d been, those throat-crowding words. The realization crept in slowly until suddenly I had to sit down, boots in hand, stomach in knots, and let the feeling fill me.
No, the idea of a new Warden doesn’t frighten me.
What frightens me isyou.
And what I become, what I’m reduced to, when I’m around you.
Chapter 21
For our journey north, the Warden gave us permission to use her own private greenways, which I’d never set foot in before. They were strong and smooth; traveling through them was like sliding into a warm, easy sleep.
But they only went as far as Alderfeld, a small town that hardly deserved the designation. Comprising a smattering of cabins and an admittedly excellent inn, it stood in the northernmost reaches of the Spine of Caiathos, a mountain range that spanned the entire length of the continent. From there, we would have to travel the rest of the way to the Falkeron Cloisters by horseback, on a path well-trodden by the faithful. If we followed this same path to the southwest, we would eventually reach Vallenvoren, the town where we had all stayed on the way to Wardwell—though of course at the time, we’d had no idea what we were walking toward.
Thinking of those first moments in Wardwell was always bittersweet. My sisters and I had followed a strange voice through the snowy northern forest until we’d emerged into a much sweeter and greener wood near a cottage surrounded by flowers.
And there Mother had stood, her arms open, as if welcoming ushome at last. Upon seeing her for the first time in twelve years, I’d at first felt only incredible relief. It was like I was ten years old all over again. My mother was alive after all, and somehow she would mend everything.
