Then the rest of the darkness resolved, and I saw it was not a branch at all.
It was an antler.
Chapter 4
Ibroke away from Kessian so quickly, he let out a disgruntled noise of surprise.
I said, “Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot. There’s something I have to— I can’t stay.”
“Oh.” Kessian flopped back against the pillows, managing to look like a painted invitation with his arms thrown over his head, one thigh cocked apart from the other. “I’ll just be here. Naked. Getting cold. What a shame.”
“Sorry,” I said again, but I could feel the shadows watching, and another firmtapon the glass had me shoving myself into my pants, yanking on my black funeral attire.
“You all right?” Kessian said.
“Yeah, good. Just forgot—”I’m being hunted.“—something at the funeral.”
“Mm-hm. Well, all right. I’ll walk you to the door.”
Kessian threw on a silk robe, tying it loosely shut. It fell off one shoulder. If life were fair, I’d have pushed him up against the wall to kiss him until the tie came undone.
Life wasn’t fair.
As we walked down the hall, Kessian walked a little stiffly.
I paused at the door. “Thank you for the sex.”
Kessian snorted a laugh. “It was really good sex.”
“Really, very good. I hope I wasn’t too … rough?”
He shook his head. “No, you were perfect. Hip gets stiff sometimes. Don’t worry your head over it.”
He didn’t elaborate further, and it wasn’t my business.Goodbyewas on the tip of my tongue, but I tempted fate by lingering a second too long on the threshold.
“If you’re ever in town again, you know where to find me.” A flash of something crossed Kessian’s face but vanished before I could identify it. “In case you want to take a rain check on round two.”
I would never be back, but I could picture it. Slipping a note under his door asking if he’d meet me at the chippy. Buying him the sausage roll he liked and sucking the flakes of pastry off the corner of his mouth. Falling into bed together, and everyone knowing, because it was a small town and Frankie who ran the chippy couldn’t resist gossiping. She was more accurate than a tabloid but no less salacious. I’d introduce him to Lunaris, who would put a kettle on to boil before I asked, and we’d take our time with each other while falling fast and hard, pretending not to.
All I had were these idle fantasies, which went away by sunrise as readily as a dream. Every bright, shining connection of mine died before it became anything more.
“I won’t be coming back,” I said, because I’d never managed the social etiquette of a polite white lie.
He seemed to understand. “Most people don’t in Shearwater.”
I had the maddening urge to kiss him goodbye, but in the end I couldn’t even say the word. I just turned and left.
I rushed back to Lunaris, watching the darkness and the trees for a moving shadow darker than the rest.
I couldn’t see one, but knew it was there. It followed me. It had ever since the night I fell into the strid.
Fellwasn’t the right word. My recollection of the night had the quality of a rained-on letter whose ink had run too much to read, but there’d been a song. Music both strange and familiar. I’d never heard it before, yet each note seemed to have been plucked from my heartstrings, from an instrument made of my hollowed-out bones, strung with my hair. Ithad drawn me out of my bed, barefoot into the woods, to the banks of the strid, where the water sang such splendid music to me. The lyrics were,Please come home.
Others had come with me, drawn by the same song. We stepped in hand in hand.
