Mine, the darkness whispered, and I couldn’t tell if it meant me or Heinrich.
The shadows reached my throat, poured into my lungs, and I tried to scream, but my voice came out in Heinrich’s cadence, speaking Latin words I didn’t know?—
I woke gasping in my narrow bed, my shift soaked through with sweat. Gray morning light filtered through my small window. I was in my room at the convent, though I had no memory of returning. The last thing I remembered was Heinrich’s eyes going white, the forest floor rushing up to meet me.
There were no marks on my body, no evidence of what had happened in that clearing. Even my arms, which I could have sworn were scratched from the underbrush, were unblemished.
I slipped as I scrambled out of bed, my palms scraping against the dirt that eternally covered the stone floor. My fingers shook as I laced my kirtle, pulling it too tight in my haste so that my chest felt even more compressed. But I didn’t care.
Heinrich—what had happened?I had to get to him, had to get help…
My feet slowed as I approached the double doors of the cathedral. Who would help me? Who would believe what I had seen—a shadow consuming him in the woods?
There would be questions. What were we doing there? Why were we alone? How had I seen this apparition? And worst of all…what had I done to cause it?
I still felt the press of his lips against mine, the scent of incense and musk that had surrounded me as my hands tangled in his hair. Even now, with the memory of what came after, my stomach still curled inward, wanting more. Wanting him.This was my fault.
I had tempted him, and then…what had our sin opened the door to? I was everything whispered behind my back. A jezebel, leading a man of God astray with my lustful thoughts and desires. I was Eve, handing Adam the apple to join her in damnation.
My hand rested against the heavy grain of the ancient doors. If I went to the Bishop, was I signing my own death warrant?
My fingers tightened, along with my resolve. I risked my life every day for the women of this city; of course I would risk it for him. Heinrich was in danger. I would do whatever it took to help him.
As I went to push the doors open, their significant weight shifted as dozens of hands pressed from the other side. Sunday Mass was letting out—it was later than I thought.
I pushed into the crowd, against the flow, unwilling to wait a second longer. Many grumbled, and elbows knocked against my ribs, but I didn’t care. I made my way toward the golden light pouring through the three great windows at the rear of the apse. Beneath them, the Bishop stood talking to…
“Heinrich?”
He looked exactly as he always did—black cassock neat, his hair swept back, if a little messy. When he heard my voice, he turned with a gentle smile so perfectlyhimthat my knees nearly buckled with relief. He nodded to the Bishop and walked toward me.
“Katharina.” My name on his lips sounded normal. “What brings you to the cathedral this morning?”
“I—” My voice caught. What could I say?I dreamed shadows consumed you. Something impossible happened in the woods.“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Nightmares again?” He moved closer, his face creased with concern. The morning light caught his eyes—brown, perfectly brown, with no trace of the darkness I’d seen consume them.
“Yes,” I managed.
“Perhaps a bit too much indulgence in the may wine last night.” He gave me a mirthful grin. “I believe Ephesians says it is better to be filled with the Spirit than with spirits.”
It was such a Heinrich thing to say that I almost laughed, or cried. Perhaps both. “Our Latin lesson, will we continue as usual today?”
“Of course.” He tilted his head slightly. “Why wouldn’t we?”
Because last night you kissed me. Because something made of shadow took you. Because I woke in my bed with no memory of walking home.
“No reason,” I said.
He reached out and touched my shoulder, meant to be comforting, pastoral. His thumb grazed the bare skin my collar didn’t quite cover, and heat flared through my veins.
“You seem troubled,” he murmured, something lingering beneath the warmth of his voice. “Perhaps you should rest today instead of attending lessons.”
“No.” The word came out too sharp. “I mean—no, I’m well. Just tired.”
His hand dropped, but slowly, his fingers trailing down my armin a way that could have been accidental. It could have been—but I didn’t think it was. “As you wish. After Terce, then? We’ll continue with Corinthians.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. He turned back to the altar, and his shadow lengthened across the floor. Why did I feel as though it were reaching for me?
