“Evening,” Claire said, her voice a whisper against the silence.
Mirela’s breath caught.
Claire was here! She was back!
She stepped forward, hesitant, her gaze sweeping the hall. No one else. Just them. It would be harmless if she sat down and just talked, right?
Claire patted the seat beside her. “You can sit with me; if you wish, of course.”
Mirela stood still for a second, deciding if it was wise to do so. Inhaling deeply, she sat not too close, but close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating from the other woman’s thigh. The silence between them was both unbearable and comforting. It wasn’t every day she sat next to someone, or even in the presence of someone else. Whenever Ferron came to visit, he would talk nonstop, never leaving a moment of comfortable silence. He talked about everything and nothing, and sometimes she had to admitshe would grow dizzy at how much he judged everyone else but himself.
“I hope you liked my gift,” Claire finally said.
Mirela frowned slightly. “Gift?”
“The basket,” Claire clarified, smiling and eyeing Mirela playfully.
Mirela blinked, realization dawning. “That was you?” she asked, turning completely to face her.
Claire nodded, sheepish. “I hope I wasn’t intruding.”
“You were,” Mirela admitted softly, but quickly rectified, “But I didn’t mind.”
Claire exhaled in relief. “Good. It was hard enough toborrowthe wine from the convent.“ Her lips curled into a grin. “I’d saysteal, but that sounds unholy.”
Mirela stared, mesmerized. The sound of Claire’s laughter echoed softly in the cathedral. By instinct, she leaned closer, close enough to catch the glint of green in her eyes.
“Shouldn’t you be with your convent?”
“Dismissing me again, Mirela?” Claire arched her brow.
“No! I mean!” Mirela sighed and rubbed her face. “It’s rather late.”
“Yes, I know, and I shouldn’t be here,” Claire murmured, lowering her gaze. “But I was worried. You hadn’t appeared for days.”
“You were gone too…” Mirela said arching a brow.
“I was, but I came yesterday and didn’t seeyou.”
Mirela swallowed. “I was resting. “
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I was just hungry and tired. But I’m fine now.” Now that Claire was here, she felt better, stronger too…
She studied Claire’s face, tracing every curve and shadow as if trying to etch it into her memory. Claire’s beauty was almost painful up close. Her lips seemed soft and full, her lashes dark against her sun-warmed skin. Mirela’s chest ached.
Then she noticed Claire’s gaze linger too long on the ruined side of her face. The warmth drained from her limbs.
She pulled away.
“Claire.” Her name trembled on Mirela’s lips.
“I’m sorry for staring.” Claire whispered, moving her hand to touch the space between them, her little finger almost brushing against Mirela’s leg. Almost.
“It’s fine,” Mirela murmured, turning toward the altar. The silence pressed tight between them.
She felt Claire’s gaze on her once more, and she was trying not to feel uncomfortable. Claire seemed to notice and pulled away enough to give them both space.
