Or slamming my head into a wall. I would never forget the feel of Brigid’s knife and how easily it had slid into Mr. Chubais’s heart. Nor the searing anger that erupted out of nowhere. Tonight though, there had been no weapon, no blood, not even a fight. Just a single yelp and the creature lay dead. “How did you kill that hound?”
Her smile returned, a little more devious than usual. “I’ve learned that it’s as easy to stop a heart as it is to heal one. Easier in fact.” She held her hand up, palm toward me. Moving her fingers playfully, she swiped it quick as lightening into her lap. “But you’ve got to be fast or they’ll have your throat out in a thrice.”
I stared at her, aghast. “You...you used power from the Otherworld?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“But that’s forbidden. You could lose your birthright.”
Cate offered nothing in her own defense, just raised a brow and gave me a knowing look. Who is the pot to call the kettle black?
The truth came crashing down around me, knocking me right off the moral high ground. My sins were greater. She may have harmed one of Cailleach’s hounds, but I had harmed another person. Dropping my eyes, I continued to twist my ring. “Did your spies tell you what I did to Julian in the garden?” How I used my power against him.
The carriage had slowed to a more reasonable pace. From the sound of cobblestones beneath the wheels, we were back in the city, each minute bringing me closer to home and the sweet escape of sleep. The guilt was too much, and I kept my eyes down to avoid Cate’s gaze.
“Now that you mention it,” she said off-handedly. “I did hear something about an argument.”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I wanted to sink into the carriage seat, away from her penetrating gaze. “He grabbed my arm and I used my power to make him let go.”
“I see,” Cate said. “So you used your power in self-defense.”
“The reason doesn’t matter. My temper got the best of me and I misused my gift.” That was the truth, plain and simple. I sniffed and brushed away an errant tear.
Cate watched me, her head cocked slightly to one side. “My spy must have spoken in error,” she said after a moment. “From what I heard, Julian kissed you and then refused to release your arm after repeated requests. Did he also ask for help?”
“No, but—”
“But nothing,” Cate said, cutting me off. “He was holding you against your will, not asking to be healed. Do you understand the difference? Brigid would never punish you for protecting yourself.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. My world felt oddly tilted, and I blinked several times trying to orient up from down, right from wrong. The very idea that my actions could be justified sent my moral compass spinning. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Cate reached over and patted my hand reassuringly. “Put your mind at ease, Selah. Your oath remains unblemished. Brigid shall have no complaint against your behavior tonight.”
My hand grew warm and tingly as an image of Brigid’s garden came into my head. I saw Brigid sitting beside the sacred spring, a long finger trailing along the water’s surface. She looked up and smiled at me, beckoning me forward to partake of her power. Enthralled by such pleasant musings, I nearly missed the subtle movement on the bench beside me. Releasing a startled cry, I jerked my head around to peer into the far corner. Darkness filled the space, with one shadow heavier than the others.
Cate held up the lantern, illuminating a young boy, his knees pulled up tightly against his chest. We were not alone, had not been alone since first getting into the carriage.
“Most adults overlook children,” Cate said, “but I’ve found them to be a tremendous asset, so small and quiet as mice when they want to be. Do you remember Johnny from the dressmaker’s shop?”
I stared at the child, astounded that I had missed him earlier. “Yes, of course I do. Was he the spy in the garden tonight?”
“That particular spy is a boy of mine who recently got a position in the palace as a pageboy. He is one of many who keeps me well informed of the goings on at court.” She smiled. “Johnny came here tonight to tell me that Deri has been spotted loitering around my bakehouse. Chances are she’s gone by now, but I thought it best to have a look before returning home.” Her expression turned wistful. “My bath will have to wait for another hour or so.”
My mouth fell open in surprise as I looked back to Cate. “You own a bakehouse?”
Cate laughed, and I was instantly reminded of a hundred little silver bells. “We may heal them,” she said, “but unless they are fed and taught a trade, all of our work will be for naught.”
I stared at her in disbelief. Noblewomen did not own trade shops of any variety. Did they?
The carriage slowed to a stop. The door swung open, and Johnny scurried out before I had a chance to move. Cate got out next, assisted by the driver, who then turned to help me.