“It’s a beautiful night.” I flinched as Stefano’s softly accented voice drifted to me from the opposite corner of the courtyard. He sat in shadow, the moon and stars’ glow not reaching his hiding place.
I had assumed he’d gone back to his room. Hadn’t I? Perhaps, on some level, I had known I would find him here.
“It truly is.” I pushed up from the bench. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I’ll let you enjoy the peace and quiet.”
“Don’t go,” he said, and I hesitated. “Stay. We can enjoy the peace and quiet together.”
I sat back down, feeling the cold seep through my thin dress and into my bones. I shivered. But it was too beautiful out here to go back inside yet. A little cold had never hurt anyone. I hugged my body and rubbed my upper arms.
“I apologise for earlier,” Stefano said into the silence. From where I sat, I couldn’t see his eyes, just the shape of him limned in silver. “I’m not sure what came over me. I just had a littlemead and it is very enclosed down there, even in the great hall. And then…”
I gave him a few moments to continue, but when he didn’t, I added, “And then you saw that little girl, and she reminded you of Rosemary.”
He seemed to nod, shadows shifting around him. “And my friend, Alessia. And my baby sister that died at birth. So much death,” he mused. “I’m surrounded by death all of the time.”
“It’s an occupational hazard for a witch hunter,” I replied, trying to lighten the mood, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, I felt a throbbing sensation in my chest, where the mark was hidden beneath my borrowed dress.
“Maybe,” he began, but faltered. “Maybe I don’t want?—”
He stood then and came to sit beside me. He leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed, forcing me to turn and look at him. His chiselled face was now illuminated by the moon and stars, carving shadows beneath his strong jaw and brow. His eyes opened suddenly and he turned to me. As much as I wanted to look away and pretend I hadn’t been staring, I felt frozen to the spot by the anguish in his dark eyes.
“Morgaine,” he began, his voice raspy. “Do you believe people can change?”
“No,” I replied without hesitation. And it was true, in my experience people did not change. But that didn’t stop the ripple of pain I felt in my chest at the thought.
Stefano’s voice was low and gravelly, his eyes locked on mine, as he said, “But what if I want to change.”
My breath caught in my throat as his hand reached out towards me and his knuckles grazed my cheek, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. I didn’t move away; couldn’t have if I’d wanted to. He leaned closer, eyes scanning my face, and his lips parted. “Morgaine.”
I couldn’t say what made me do it, but in that moment I needed to see what would happen. I needed to know how it felt. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, sensing the initial hesitation in him, before his hand sank into my hair and he pulled me closer, his lips warm and soft against my own.
It was a mistake. A stupid idea. Temporary insanity. But the warmth that flooded my chest as we kissed felt so right; a lightness I hadn’t felt in years filling me up until I could have floated away. All of my life for the last several hundred years had been about survival, hiding in plain sight, pretending and denying and avoiding connection to protect my own heart. And now, a witch killer had come along and shaken the very foundations of everything I’d come to believe about people, about men, and about myself.
A clatter and the sound of laughter told us someone else had just climbed out of the trapdoor and was coming this way. I leapt up and hurried over to the door, as though I had just been leaving. I bumped into Millie on my way back inside, accompanied by a brown-haired young man I thought was called Alan. They looked bashful when they realised they’d been caught, sneaking off to be alone.
I paused before I left the courtyard, looking over to where Stefano sat, hands clasped between his knees, head bowed. “Goodnight, Dante.”
He looked up, and the moonlight caught in his tangled, dark curls. His lips tugged up at one corner. He really was achingly, painfully handsome. “Goodnight, Eleanor.”
20
STEFANO
Islid my trusty silver dagger into the sheath at my hip and pulled on my leather gloves. I checked my pack one last time and slung it over my shoulder before heading to the great hall. The time had finally come for the mission to invade the castle and I had to admit, I was apprehensive.
Any one of a hundred things could go wrong tonight, there were too many variables. But if I wanted to achieve my goals, this had to happen. I would deal with the consequences when they arrived.
We piled into the horse-pulled wagons under cover of darkness, aided by Friar Tuck, who’d made sure the coast was clear. The prince’s men, and probably my own guards, had been patrolling the woods and villages around the rectory for several days. They’d even searched the rectory on two separate occasions, finding nothing to rouse suspicion. But that didn’t mean they weren’t watching the place from a safe distance, waiting for us to emerge. Tuck had sent them on a wild goose chase, hinting that he’d heard about some suspicious activity around the old mine shaft, and then he’d let the rectory dogs loose to chase off any remaining spies.
Morgaine had put on a convincing performance to Robin and John, with Millie’s help. They’d eventually agreed she could come along and provide medical support, as long as she stayed in the wagon and didn’t get in the way of the mission. I had enjoyed seeing her swallow her fury at their thinly veiled suggestion she’d be neither use nor ornament, but Millie had vouched for her abilities as a healer, and it appeared no one had truly considered taking a healer until Morgaine had suggested it.
I had known that when I’d given the idea to her, and I’d been quite sure the rebels would be easily convinced to let her join us. They couldn’t afford to lose any of their number through reckless abandon, not when they were currently outnumbered by the prince’s guards, two to one.
The wagon bumped over tree roots and the uneven forest road, and silence hung over us as we waited to be dropped as close to the dungeons as possible, without leaving the cover of the trees. I hoped I was right about the dungeon entrance being the least well-guarded; things had changed since I’d last set foot in the castle, and the dungeons were now well populated, by all accounts. Although it sounded like the gallows had had a fair amount of use in recent days, too.
Despite my plan to betray the rebels once we were inside, I still needed to get us all in if I was going to kill Prince John and blame the rebellion. So, this part of the plan needed to go off without a hitch.
Morgaine’s eyes caught mine from the other side of the wagon, our knees bumping as the terrain tossed us around, and a rush of warmth filled my chest. Her expression had never been readable, but right now I would have given almost anything to know what she was thinking. The animosity between us was still there, but after our dance, and what I’d nearly confessed in the courtyard—that I wasn't sure I wanted to be a witch hunteranymore—and that unexpected kiss, I wondered if anything had changed for her. The way things had changed for me.
