“The house of God is the safest place to be, right?” Claire said, a soft chuckle escaping her.
Mirela nodded at that. “It is safe, but you don’t sound so confident in that statement.”
Claire shrugged. “I have my reasons,” she said before sighing, lifting her gaze to the tall ceiling of the cathedral, her emerald eyes catching the candlelight. “And yet I chose to come here. You chose to sit beside me. So, maybe it is not that bad.”
Mirela’s voice came barely above a whisper. “Why are you here, truly?”
“I wanted to escape the snores of the other sisters,” Claire said softly. “And you? Why speak to me now when you sent me away before?”
“Because I was scared. No one goes to the tower but me,” Mirela admitted.
“Are you the one that tolls the bells, Mirela?”
Mirela stiffened at the change of topic. “I am.”
“And you live here?”
Mirela nodded, looking now at the ground.
Claire moved closer, her thigh now pressed firmly to Mirela’s. She held in a breath, the touch so foreign and new to her. The contact didn’t feel violent or malicious. It was just...that. A touch. Gentle, tender, a connection like she had never felt before.
“Why are you hiding, though?” Claire’s voice softened.
Mirela knew she should pull away from her touch, to put some distance, butGod, she had never felt this tenderness, not from Ferron, not from anyone. Her eyes were glued to the spot where their bodies touched. She swallowed hard and just slightly moved away aninch.
“Mirela?” Claire called her.
Mirela’s gaze darted back to her face; it was close to her now, and she could see all the details of her features. She inhaled once more and slightly cursed at herself for doing so. She smelled so good, of roses and slightly of lavender…
“What?” Mirela tilted her head in confusion.
“Why are you hiding in the tower?”
Mirela frowned. “Because it’s what I was told to do.”
Claire hesitated, then gently brushed her fingers along Mirela’s right arm. The touch burned. “Is it because of this?”
The world froze. Mirela flinched violently, pulling away, hiding the scarred arm behind her. It was too much, the touch, the eyes, her face so close. Too much, and Mirela had no idea what to do with any of the feelings bubbling inside her chest and lower stomach.
“You need to leave,” she whispered.
“Are you kicking me out again, Mirela—“
“Now!” As soon as the words left her mouth, Mirela dreaded the way Claire’s face twisted into pain and fear.
Claire didn’t move. She sat there with her green eyes digging into Mirela.
And Mirela couldn’t take it.
“If you won’t leave,” Mirela said, rising, “then I will. Thank you for the food.”
She quickly made it to the stairs before the darkness swallowed her whole.
Chapter six
Claire
Claireshould’veknownbetterthan to do what she did.
