And Sy could not split it at all.
His heart ached almost as much as his head.
“And I will say nothing further at all,” he said wearily. “I need sleep. I won’t impose longer than I have to. I’ll leave you at first light.”
As he spoke, a rustling in the undergrowth signaled David reemerging from the dark. He stepped slowly forward into the lantern light. His right hand was clenched into a fist, and the open fingers of his left trembled.
“What is it?” Sy demanded, sitting up. “Are you hurt?”
David let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan, then shook his head.
“Go on, David,” said Bertrand. “I got what I needed.”
Before Sy could even think to question Bertrand’s odd remark, David kneeled before him. And before he could question why David would do that, he had pressed his clenched right fist to Sy’s chest, over his heart. In a familiar gesture, he slid his other hand behind Sy’s ear. Then, with a soft breath, David pulled him into a kiss.
His first thought was surprise.
His second, a familiar, welcome impulse, was to kiss him back; all forgiven, all forgotten.
His third was of hesitation. Was of…Anya.
As he puzzled over the mess of his thoughts and remembered he really ought to be focused on Bertrand, who he thought had said something threatening, David pulled away, and said, with all the remorse of a man on his deathbed, “Sy. I’m sorry.”
Then he raised his clenched fist and opened it, revealing a glistening ruby dust. He blew the spell into Sy’s face.
Everything went black.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
In the morning, they dressed Sabina in flowers. Anya cut five supple, green, blossom-draped branches from the rowan tree. As recompense for taking so much, she left three of her walnut cakes, a bit of hair pulled from her braid, and the bones of the quail they had eaten last night.
“Protect her like you did me, mother tree,” Anya petitioned under her breath as she knotted a branch into a bracelet.So I don’t have to.
They spent an hour stripping and weaving, making protective talismans of the tree’s gift – something Johanna had taught her, but not so different from the daisy chains she’d made in Sperling Park with her governess as a girl. They placed the vernal jewelry around Sabina’s wrists, her ankles, her neck.
Sabina, tight-lipped and puffy-eyed, looked annoyed at having to knot the leaves and wood, but said nothing all morning. At least, until Perrine nestled a crown of white flowers into her hair. “This is ridiculous,” she pouted. “I look like a maiden prepped for sacrifice.”
“You are,” Anya said bluntly. “The forest has marked you.”
Sabina’s brow furrowed. “Marked me?”
“It’s on your trail and won’t leave off until it has you. Those flowers are the only thing keeping you safe. Even being near you puts us at risk. You’re lucky we don’t leave you behind.”
“You look quite charming,” Perrine put in, and Anya shot her an annoyed look. Perrine shrugged. “She does.”
“Why don’t you, then?” Sabina said, ignoring Perrine but faintly flushing.
“Don’t tempt me,” Anya returned. She already planned on abandoning Sabina at the first opportunity.
Last night was the first opportunity. The perfect opportunity. All she would have needed to do was stay still, lie quiet in that dampening dark, that swallowing sleep.
At the thought, which did not seem entirely her own, she shuddered. Perhaps…less sleep, from now on.
Regardless, she needed to create another opportunity, and quick. As they packed up and set off for the Warbler, the falcon circling overhead, Anya considered her options for inconspicuously getting free of the wizard – and, unfortunately, of Perrine.
It was hard to concentrate against the glaring morning light. She squinted, feeling almost as if she had a wicked hangover, though she’d barely touched Perrine’s brandy.
It must be the lack of sleep. She’d been up all night watching over Sabina. She never heard the mysterious crying, but from the whimpers that came from under the rowan intermittently throughout the night, she wondered if Sabina still did.
