“Come on.” Jasper took her hand and drew her away. “It will be dark soon, and we can start fresh in the morning. I have grown quite accustomed to our evenings together.”
So had Dawn, but their time together was also weighted with expectation. Each glance and touch whispered that he waited for her to surrender to the forces that would bind them together. She needed some time alone with her thoughts without the pressure of him watching her. “Do you mind terribly if we don’t tonight? I am rather tired. I want to curl up in bed with the botany books for a few hours, and then I plan on an early night. I am researching diseases that affect other large trees in hopes of finding something similar and a corresponding way to heal the Ravensblood. I will be rather engrossed and not much company.”
His smile sagged. “Very well. But I will join you later tonight to keep watch for Ava. Tomorrow we can celebrate fighting our way to the middle of the maze.”
She leaned in for a gentle kiss. Perhaps Elijah was right and she shouldn’t be afraid of this thing winding around them. Nature usually knew what was best, and Dawn learned in her little garden to let the plants dictate the best spot or combination. Who was she to second guess a force that had nurtured mankind since the beginning of time?
Tomorrow, once the maze had fallen to them, she would tell Jasper that she wished to consent to their bond. A thrill ran through her body at the thought of what might happen afterward. Until then, she would have to hypothesise and steal peeks at the anatomy book she had taken from the library when no eyes, not even the ravens, were watching.
After Hector delivered her dinner tray, Dawn donned her nightgown and robe and curled up by the fire with her books. The light outside faded to dusk as she pondered the state of the tree. The way a disease struck a tree gave many clues as to how it originated and how it might be cured. Did it absorb through the roots and soil and move upward? Or did it hit the leaves and soak downward? Or even, in this case, did Ava’s python vine constrict the sap flow of the tree?
“Blast,” she muttered and slammed the book shut. Research was pointless without some direction. Then the idea hit her. They were so close, a small and determined person could climb through the gaps in the vine. So long as she was very careful.
But she had promised Jasper that she would wait until morning. There was also the chance the centre of the maze was Ava’s stronghold, and Dawn wasn’t prepared to face her just yet. But as she sat, the scratch in her wrist heated and she rubbed her thumb over it. Intellectually, she knew she should stay in the cottage. But something stirred. The tiny piece of Ava’s vine in her body wanted to join the larger vine in the maze and it pulled her like the string of a marionette, moving her feet.
She glanced at the clock; she still had an hour before Jasper would arrive to take up his sentinel position. Could she sneak a quick look at the tree before full dark? There should be time for one brief look at the centre and the tree before he would be on her doorstep. That should satisfy the poisonous vine and allow her to sleep.
Decision made, and before she lost her courage, Dawn grabbed a lantern from a cupboard and then, as an afterthought, picked up the poker from by the fireplace. She would arm herself in case Ava was sitting on a carved wooden throne at the centre. She still didn’t know how she would ever confront Ava, but she remembered fighting the greenfly that affected her roses. Both were a blight upon the garden. One was just somewhat larger and possibly capable of retaliation.
To avoid any trouble, she vowed that if there were any sign of Ava, she would immediately retreat. She gripped the poker a little harder as she trod the path through the garden to the maze with Mouse at her heels. Once she reached the entrance, the dog whined and refused to follow.
“Stay here, boy. I don’t think you’d fit through the gap in the vines anyway.”
The wolfhound gave another plaintive yelp and then lay down, his massive head resting on his paws as worried eyes tracked Dawn.
Once inside she turned left and immediately lost sight of Mouse. Dawn walked quickly in the fading light, wanting to make the middle before night claimed the estate. Dark fell faster in the hedge corridors with the yew leaning over the path and blocking the rising moon. The air was chillier, and she tugged at her robe to pull it closer to her exposed neck. The way was relatively clear, and soon she had wound her way back and forth to the last section.
“I hope I do not regret this,” she muttered as she surveyed the last barrier.
Dawn cast her eye over the wall of interlacing vine and determined where would be the best point to climb through. Then she pushed the lantern and poker through as far as she could reach, careful of the sharp thorns waiting to catch the unwary. She already had one unrelenting scratch and did not want to add others.
Next she lifted her gown and robe, tucked her head down, and eased one foot through a gap. It took a wriggle and squirm to slide her body between grasping vines. A thorn caught her robe, and she had to stop and work it loose before trying again. After just a few minutes, she emerged on the other side.
Dawn drew a deep breath before the tightly guarded heart of the estate. Exhilaration raced through her blood like the time she drank a glass of champagne, a happy memory of celebrating her eighteenth birthday with her parents. Happiness at having come so far was tinged with sadness at what she found.
Before her stood the Ravensblood tree. It was both beautiful and dying.
The tree occupied one corner of the overgrown lawn. In overall dimensions, the small area was much like the secret room she had drawn in her ladies’ retreat, the drawing that had earned her place at the estate. The old tree spread a wide canopy over the entire area. Enormous roots undulated across the ground like giant octopus tentacles that dove into the earth. With the last streak of dusk, the top quarter of the tree appeared to be on fire. Orange and red leaves flamed from a black torch-like base.
Dawn took ten slow steps through grass that tickled her calves, and then set down her lantern and impromptu weapon at the base of the tree. She reached out a hand to touch the trunk. The bark was deep grey and lined with wrinkles like an ancient face. All over the surface ran thick black lines. They bulged, swollen as though they were veins carrying poison upward to the foliage.
Dawn smoothed her hand over the bark and a strip peeled off. She glanced at her wrist as she brushed the piece away. Similar black lines ventured up her arm from the scratch. “She has poisoned us both, but how do I heal us?”
With one hand anchored on the tree, she stepped around the massive trunk that was easily eight feet in diameter. On the other side, the raised roots formed a mossy hollow. Dawn sat down in the tree’s embrace and wrapped her arms around a giant root. She pressed her face to the cool wood and breathed in the rich loamy scent. If she listened hard enough, would she hear the garden’s heart through the tree?
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sentient being under her cheek. People forgot that trees were living, breathing creatures. But not Dawn. Their entire life cycles from birth to death were enacted in one spot. She knew what that was like. She had thought her short lifespan would start and finish in a diminutive backyard in Whetstone. Then fate brought her here, to Ravenswing.
The gentle giant surrounded her and emitted a soft thrum as the tree inhaled and exhaled. Dawn found a comfort in its embrace that reminded her of curling up in her mother’s lap to hear a story. As her mother whispered of stone gargoyles, fiery salamanders, and eternal love, she fell asleep.