A lover.
That was why she ran from the marriage. I didn’t know why I should feel sick. Maybe it was the way she had looked into my eyes this morning. The way she lingered. The blush on her cheeks. It did something to me. Something I liked. Something that made me think maybe things could still be different. I thought about it all day as I rode to Luiseveque to leave a message. And then all the way back again, even though I tried to banish her from my thoughts. Maybe things could be different. Evidently not.
It felt like I had been punched in the gut—a feeling I wasn’t accustomed to. I usually guarded myself well in that regard. Wounds in the field were one thing, but these kind, they were sheer stupidity. I may have had the air knocked out of me, but Rafe looked like he had been trampled. Stupid sot.
When I turned to leave, he was standing just a dozen feet away, not even trying to hide his presence. He had seen it all. Apparently the smitten jackass had followed us. He didn’t speak when I saw him. I suspected he couldn’t.
I brushed past him. “It seems she’s true to her word. She isn’t the innocent sort, is she?”
He didn’t reply. A reply would have been redundant. His face already said it. Maybe now he’d be on his way once and for all.
Always on the wind.
I hear them coming.
Tell me again, Ama, about the storm.
There is no time for a story, child.
Please, Ama.
Her eyes are hollow.
There is no supper tonight.
A story is all I have to fill her.
It was a storm, that’s all I remember.
A storm that wouldn’t end.
A great storm, she prompts.
I sigh, Yes, and pull her to my lap.
Once upon a time, child,
Long, long ago,
Seven stars were flung from the sky.
One to shake the mountains,
One to churn the seas,
One to choke the air,
And four to test the hearts of men.
A thousand knives of light
Grew to an explosive rolling cloud,
Like a hungry monster.
Only a little princess found grace,
A princess just like you.…
A storm that made the ways of old meaningless.
A sharp knife, a careful aim, an iron will, and a listening heart,
Those were the only things that mattered.
And moving on. Always moving on.
Come, child, it is time to go.
The scavengers, I hear them rustling in the hills.
—The Last Testaments of Gaudrel
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
There were so many things I had wanted to say to Pauline today. So many things that seemed important at the time. I was going to lecture her for spreading stories about my fear of rabbits. Tease her for her undying resourcefulness even when sick. Tell her about Rafe bringing the baskets and my time in the canyon with him. I wanted to ask her what she thought it meant and talk about all the details of our lives, just as we always did at the end of the day when we were back in our room.
Now here I was, alone in the dark, unable to face her, scratching a donkey behind his ears, whispering to him, “What should I do? What should I do?”
I had arrived terribly late to the dining room, bursting into the kitchen. Berdi was steaming as much as her kettle of stew. I had intended to tell her why I was late, but all I could utter was I have news of Mikael before my throat sealed shut. Berdi’s steam vanished, and she nodded, handing me a plate, and from there, the evening went by rote, a reprieve from the inevitable. I was so busy there wasn’t time for further explanations. I smiled, I welcomed, I delivered, I cleaned. But my spicy words were few. Once I was caught at the watering station, staring at nothing at all, while the mug I was filling spilled over with cider. Pauline touched my elbow and asked if I was all right. “Just tired,” I answered. “I had a lot of sun today.” She tried to apologize for not helping with the berries, but I cut her short to go deliver the cider.
Kaden came alone to the dining room. I was relieved that Rafe hadn’t come. I was troubled enough without having to navigate his dark moods. Still, I found myself looking at the tavern door each time it opened, thinking he had to eat sooner or later. I tried to smile and offer my standard greetings to everyone, but when I brought Kaden his meal, he stopped me before I rushed off.
“Your fire seems dampened tonight, Lia.”
“I’m sorry. I might be a bit distracted. Did I forget something you wanted?”
“Your service is fine. What has you bothered?”
I paused, touched that he perceived my rattled state. “It’s only a little throbbing in my head. It will be fine.”
His eyes remained fixed on me; apparently he was unconvinced. I sighed and conceded. “I’m afraid I received some disheartening news today from my brother.”
His brows rose as if this news greatly surprised him. “Your brother is here?”
I smiled. Walther. I’d forgotten how happy I had been. “He was here for a brief visit this evening. I was overjoyed to see him, but unfortunately we had to part on some difficult news.”
“A tall fellow? Riding a tobiano? I think I may have passed him on the highway today.”
I was surprised that Walther would take the main highway from Luiseveque and not stick to the back trails. “Yes, that was him,” I answered.
Kaden nodded and sat back in his chair as if he was already satisfied with his meal, though he hadn’t yet touched a bite. “I can see the resemblance, now that you’ve told me. The dark hair, the cheekbones…”
He had observed much in such a short passing on the road, but then again, he had already proved himself observant when he noted my lack of fire in a bustling tavern.
He leaned forward. “Is there anything I can do?”
His voice was warm and slow and reminded me of the gentle rumble of a distant summer storm—so inviting at a distance. And those eyes again, the ones that made me feel naked, like he saw beneath my skin. I knew I couldn’t sit down and tell him my worries, but his steadfast gaze made me want to.
“Nothing,” I whispered. He reached out and squeezed my hand. More silent seconds ticked between us. “I need to be about my duties, Kaden.”
Glancing across the room, I saw Berdi watching from the kitchen door and wondered what she must think, then wondered who else saw—and, really, was it anything I should feel guilty about? Wasn’t it good to know someone was worried about me when others were seeking to put a rope about my neck? I was grateful for his kindness, but I pulled my hand from his.
“Thank you,” I whispered, afraid my voice might crack, and I hurried away.
When our evening work was done, I left Pauline gaping at the kitchen door as I rushed out by myself, claiming I needed fresh air and was going for a walk. But I didn’t walk. I got only as far as Otto’s stall. It was dark and deserted, and my worries would be safe with him. I balanced on the top rail of the stall, hugging a post with one hand and scratching his ears with the other. He didn’t question my late-night attentions. He accepted them gratefully, which made my chest pull tighter. I struggled to choke back sobs. What should I do?
The truth would kill her.
I heard a rustle, the hollow thump of metal. I froze, looking into the darkness.
“Who’s there?”