A thin beam of light peeped through a draped window. It was all I had to navigate through near darkness. I stayed to the edges of the wooden floor to avoid creaks that might reveal my presence. I crept, room by room, through the kitchen, the drawing room, the pantry, the cellar, and the many chambers on the upper floors that I had searched the last time I was here. Again, they were empty, unchanged. I found no one.
I checked the door at the back side of the house. When I opened it, the grounds were empty, still as only twilight is. Through hedges and trees, I saw a glimpse of the stables. Had he been on his way there? But why go through Darkcottage? There were more direct paths. I closed the door. It was getting late. I needed to get back.
But when I turned a chill caressed me—Go—a voice crawled up my spine—Leave—a finger turned my jaw—Hurry—and then there was a rushed blur of voices, hands, faces, running through the hall—Shhh, this way, run, don’t say a word. Death strode among them, glanced at me, but this time he didn’t smile. He wept. His arms were full and he could carry no more.
*
My chamber door was ajar when I returned to the main house. I cautiously opened it to find Jase looking in my wardrobe, pulling open drawers and ruffling through them. He wore only trousers—no shirt, no shoes, his hair still wet—as if he’d rushed in to search for something.
I shut the door firmly behind me.
He turned, startled. “Sorry, I knocked but you didn’t answer. I was getting ready for dinner and I realized I was out of shirts. And socks. I only had a few in the guest room and those are dirty in my saddlebag now.”
My shoulders relaxed. It was his wardrobe he was searching. Not mine.
I had almost forgotten I had commandeered his room.
“I moved your things to the bottom drawers,” I said. “Take your time. I’m enjoying the view.” And I was. He held up his hand. His fingers were bandaged. A grin lit his face. “I’m injured. Maybe you can help me?”
I rolled my eyes. “Poor baby. As injured as a spider spinning a web, and you’re luring me into yours.”
“But it’s a very nice web?”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
I strolled over and he drew me into his arms, his kiss a bare whisper against my lips as though he feared he might hurt me. “My neck is fine,” I said. “Only bruised—no lasting damage. But your knuckles—” I pulled away and lifted his hand, examining his two bandaged fingers. “Your mother was right? Broken?”
He shrugged sheepishly as if reluctant to admit it. “Maybe a little cracked. At least according to the healer.”
“You should always listen to your mother.”
“So she tells me.”
I knelt to rummage through the bottom drawer for a shirt. “White? Gray?”
“What about you, Kazi?” he asked. “Do you always listen to your mother?”
I paused, gripping the socks in my hands, kneading them between my fingers. “It’s different for us, Jase. I already told you. She’s a general and has a lot of responsibilities. We don’t see each other often.”
“But she must still worry about you. And today—” I heard him sigh. I heard the guilt. “This isn’t your battle. First the labor hunters, and now this. Does your mother even know you’re here?”
Does she? Loss flooded my throat. It had gripped me today with a fresh, cruel hand, reaching into my heart, tugging, reminding me of what I had lost. When I saw the concern in Vairlyn’s eyes as she looked at my neck, when she shooed me into the house like one of her children to have my injuries tended, I saw the lost moments with my own mother, all the memories I never got the chance to make. That was something else the Previzi driver had stolen from me. Six short years was all I had with her. My mother’s absence hit me in a new, bitter way, because sometimes you can’t begin to know everything you’ve lost until someone shows you what you might have had.
I rummaged through another drawer. “How about this cream one?”
“Kazi—”
I stood and faced him. “Stop. You don’t have to feel guilty. My mother raised me from a very young age to be a soldier. And apparently I do it well. I’ll take my reward now.”
I drew his mouth to mine and I kissed him, long and hard, working to create a memory I could hold on to. When I pulled away, I began buttoning up his shirt. His chest rose in a deep quivering breath. “I guess there are some advantages to having bandaged fingers.”
“I think you can do your socks yourself. I have to get ready too.” I shoved him back in the armchair then threw him three pairs to choose from. “How’d your talk with Jalaine go?”
He was quiet, as if thinking it over. “It went well,” he finally said. “I’m all caught up on arena business now.”
“That much to catch up on in just a few days?”
“The arena is a busy place. A lot can happen in a short time.”
I asked if I could go along with him tomorrow and he seemed pleased, but warned me he would have a full day and I might be left to my own devices at times. His being busy was convenient for me—it would give me time to look around unfettered, maybe just to find more of nothing. Is that what I hoped to find? Nothing? I wasn’t sure anymore. For months, I had thought that finding the captain would close a door in my life. Many doors. It would not only erase present dangers but erase past failures too. It would make something right. It would bring justice to many where it couldn’t be found for one.
Jase noticed my silence. “What is it?”
Secrets I still can’t tell you, Jase. Oaths I can’t break. Truths I want to share but can’t. What is this? I knew the answer now as certainly as I knew the exact shade of Jase’s brown eyes. “Turn around,” I said. “I need to change.”
His mouth pulled in a smirk. “You forget that I’ve already seen you half naked?”
The intimacies of being chained together and my thin wet chemise had left little to the imagination when we were in the wilderness. “But only half. Turn.”
As he pulled on his socks, I threw on fresh clothes and began brushing my hair. I casually asked, “Will there be guests at dinner tonight?”
“No, just the family.”
“What about the guest staying at Darkcottage? When I was in Synové’s room, I saw someone go in there.”
He pulled on a boot and a puzzled expression filled his face, but he didn’t miss a beat. “No guests. It was probably just one of the groundsmen checking to make sure the windows were all shut. It looks like there’s a storm moving in.”
A storm. It made sense. I had seen the thickening clouds. And every window and shutter was pulled tight.
“He had white hair,” I added.
Jase stood, thinking for a moment. “Tall?”
I nodded.
“Yes. That’s Erdsaff. Good man. He’s been with us for years. Summer storms can be the worst.”
I thought about the sudden violent storm that had hit when Jase and I crossed Bone Channel, and as I did the room flashed with light and a crack of thunder shook the windows—as if on cue to confirm it was only a groundsman I had seen.
*
Jase’s fingers laced with mine. We walked through the halls, a rhythm to our steps that announced we were together, a rhythm that felt powerful, unstoppable. Inevitable. We paused, kissed, lingered, like the world wasn’t waiting for us, like the secrets between us didn’t matter, like the entire house was ours and ours alone, every wall, every corner, every landing. We had escaped death today, and a second chance was ours.
“You’re a good bit of trouble, Kazi,” he said, pinning me against the foyer wall, “the kind of trouble that I—” Words burned in his eyes, words he wanted to say, but held back, a silent bargain between us. His thighs were hard against mine, and breath rippled through my chest like a fitful breeze. His thumb lightly traced my lower lip. “We could skip dinner,” he said, his voice husky. He had never pressured me, but I knew what was on his mind. It was on mine too.
“Dinner, pretty boy,” I whispered against his jaw. “Your family’s waiting.”
*
Everyone was already seated when we arrived in the dining room. Notably absent were Aunt Dolise and her family.
“Nice of you to finally join us,” Mason said.
“Beware the gods—you missed prayers,” Titus added.
Priya clucked her tongue. “At least the cold soup won’t get cold.”