The sacred spring bubbled a short walk from the garden’s edge. I knelt down on the grassy bank and reached for the silver cup that had been left near a cluster of small white flowers. Water droplets clung to the outside of the cup, wetting my hand. I turned it over and emptied the remaining water onto the grass. The discovery startled me, to find it had been so recently used. All I could think was that Julian had come before me, which also explained why the vault smelled so strongly of herbs.
It wasn’t an unpleasant thought. Quite the contrary, I found that thinking of Julian gave me a sense of comfort I hadn’t experienced since my father’s death. Henry was partially right when he referred to my power as unnatural. I preferred to think of it as unusual, something so unique that it set me apart from everyone else in the mortal world. Except for Julian.
I dipped the cup into the spring, filling it to the top. I drank quickly, then filled the cup twice more as the fire began to burn inside of me. Tingling with power, I stretched out in the grass and stared at the vivid blue sky.
After being away from the Otherworld for so long, I would have stayed for hours if Henry weren’t waiting back in the vault, probably annoyed by the time I had already spent. I did allow myself the luxury of several long minutes while my thoughts drifted at will. The tension faded away, all the accumulated worry and anger from earlier this evening. I had no doubt that Henry loved me, that his own anger had stemmed more from fear than anything else. Not that I had a choice regarding the boy, but if the roles were reversed, I might have reacted in a similar manner.
Now it was time to let bygones be bygones. Henry loved the feel of my skin when it was freshly saturated with power, and I stood from the bank anxious to see how adverse he really was to my being so different.
The sun faded the moment I stepped back into the mist, and I soon found myself kneeling at the altar. Henry leaned against the wall, his eyes closed and a serene look that beckoned me closer. Careful not to make a sound, I pushed to my feet and went to him, Brigid’s fire radiating from every pore as I rose on tiptoes to brush a kiss on his mouth. He responded at once, encircling my waist and pulling me hard against him. With a soft moan, I wrapped my arms around his neck.
His kiss grew deeper, then his mouth dropped to my neck, his hot breath sending delightful tremors through my body.
“I hoped you would have second thoughts about my power,” I murmured, pleased by his reaction.
He froze, his body growing rigid against mine. Slowly lifting his head, he reached up and pulled my arms down, placing them at my side.
I looked at him, startled by the sudden change. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked it when I’ve just returned from the Otherworld.”
“Not this time.” His eyes flashed with anger. “Get dressed. It’s time to leave.”
“But Henry—”
“I said get dressed, Selah.”
Humiliation burned in my skin. I spun around and stormed back to the pile of clothing. Putting my back to him, I yanked the sheath over my head and threw it in the basket. I stood still for a moment, shaking with rage. What did he expect from me? That I would grovel at his feet, beg forgiveness for something entirely out of my control? That I would risk my soul to save my body?
I gave a derisive snort, picked up my shift and tugged it over my head.
Maybe when hell freezes over.
Chapter Eight
Mr. Faber
I stayed in bed the next morning, too tired and depressed from last night’s events to get up. After drinking so much from the sacred spring, I should have been bouncing with energy. Instead, I remained buried beneath the bedcovers, in blatant disregard to the sunlight that spilled into the room from around the edges of the draperies.
A tentative knock sounded on the door. I ignored it, tossed onto my other side and pulled the quilt up to my chin. The creak of hinges was followed by the sound of soft leather soles on the wooden floor.
“Are you awake, Selah?” Nora asked. “Beth told me that you fainted on the front steps after returning home from the theater.”
She sounded so worried that I couldn’t help from rolling back over to look up at her. “I just got a little light headed. Nothing to worry about.”
“It’s all my fault. I should never have stayed knowing that you were walking home in the cold. Please say you forgive me.”
I propped myself up against the headboard, surprised by her entreaty. It hadn’t occurred to me that Nora would actually blame herself for my fainting. “There’s nothing to forgive,” I said. “It was just a stupid fainting spell. If truth be told, I’m embarrassed by the trouble I caused and would prefer not to think of it again.”
“You’re such a bad liar,” she teased, her good humor returned. “But have it your way, I’ll not be one to argue.” She crossed the room and opened the drapes. “That’s better. It’s a beautiful day, I hope you don’t plan to spend it cooped up in the dark.”