She sighs heavily. “I’m jealous of your abilities. They seem amazing. Minus feeling impending doom.”
I smile wryly. “My powers weren’t so amazing when they first manifested.”
“I remember.” She makes a face. “But I’ve said it many times before and I’ll say it again: if you want to leave, I’ll come with you. Barr na Cahar is boring anyway. You speak of freedom; why not take a leap of faith?”
“Neris, I’mmarriednow,” I remind her. “Also, Barr na Cahar isn’t so boring anymore.” I gesture vaguely over the house, to the streets beyond, where Peacekeepers patrol.
Neris deadpans, “That’s not the kind of excitement I’m looking for, Winnie. I’d prefer the kind that doesn’t get me shot with a bolt if I so much as make the wrong face. I’d love towander the forests, gaze upon the beauty of the ocean.” She beams. “I’ve been saving up my earnings.”
“Likewise.” I plop down into the grass and sprawl out on my back.
Neris spreads out beside me. “It’s no secret Gruffud is a prick, but he doesn’t … hit you, does he?”
My throat tightens.
“And if he does, will you tell me?”
I keep my face pointed toward the sky where clouds race across the sun. We’re bathed in shadows repeatedly, but golden rays surround the pillows of white. My fingers itch with the desire to grab a paintbrush. This would make a beautiful painting.
If Gruffud didn’t become so surly whenever I took the time to put brush to canvas.
We sit in silence within our privileged prison. Neris doesn’t push the topic further, and for that, I’m grateful. Gruffud’s weapons of choice are words sharper than any knife, but I would not put it past him to hone those insults into something more physical. Just as I wouldn’t put it past Neris to act on impulse if that ever did happen. It would only putherin danger, and I cannot have that on my conscience. So, if he ever lays a hand on me, Neris will never know.
In the morning, as I’m pressing letters into one of many leather book covers lined up before me, I feel the weight of Neris’s steady gaze. I gently lay a strip of goldleaf over the book cover and grab the metal embossing stamp. Painstakingly, I roll the embosser over the goldleaf, then clear the excess away toreveal the golden letters indented into the leather cover.The Life of Caoimhe Brogan.Perfect.
“Winnie, are you alright?” Neris asks. “You’re quiet today.”
I sigh. “I just wish I could stay here. Notherein the workshop, per se, but I suppose I miss the comfort of not having to—” I pause, wondering what the apt thing is to say.
“—go home to your husband?”
My gaze is drawn up to her expression of understanding before I refocus on the books. “I thought I would’ve become accustomed by now. That I’d learn to … enjoy things.” I lift an untitled book and spot a remnant of goldleaf stuck to my dark skin.
“You just miss me,” Neris quips as I remove the shimmery material from the back of my hand. “Admit it.”
I set a new book in front of me and stick my tongue out at Neris. She laughs, but my own amusement is interrupted by a wintry breeze sweeping over me.
A symbol glows on the ground as if lit by some kind of internal flame. My hackles rise, but I don’t make a peep. I set down the embosser I’d just picked up and walk toward the symbol just as it disappears.
A moment later, another appears a short distance away, but when I reach it, that one also disappears. Two more times, two more symbols, and the shelves upon which we keep our books draw nearer.
“What in hells are you doing?” Neris asks.
The whoosh of a tattered grey cloak catches my attention as it disappears around a corner of the shelves, heading farther into our storage area. I take off running across the room in pursuit, my hand against my chest for stability, my corset threatening to tear under the sudden act of athleticism. I probably should run in the opposite direction, but I go against my instinct and move toward the oddity.
“Alright,” Neris says, suddenly behind me. I jump so hard that I nearly collide with the nearby shelves. “Now I really think you’ve lost your marbles.”
When I look back, there are no symbols and no figures.
Neris sighs through her nostrils, her lips forming a thin line. “Have I told you lately that you need more sleep?”
For the first time in quite a while, I feel a familiar tug from within me. The one telling me to get out of Barr na Cahar, to head northeast. The same sensation I get when I envision that damn tree. They’re the ideas of a madwoman, and I promised to be done with fanatical ideals. But it doesn’t hurt to dream about it, does it?
The sounds of rustling paper, clanging metal, and occasional hammering soon fill the space again. I take comfort in the tedium of it all, knowing that I’ll need to return to my husband before long, and wondering if a moment like today will happen again.
In the darkness, the tree stretches to the sky like hands trying to grasp something out of reach. It resonates deeply in my soul. I, too, am constantly grasping for something I can’t reach. For something unknown to me.
A figure moves across my plane of vision, spiking my pulse. I lock my knees and stand my ground. The figure turns to me, eyes like embers, an axe dragging on the ground. They lift a hand, a finger pointed toward me before they vanish.
