“What would you have us do with her, Elijah?” she asked.
Elijah stared for a long time, his stone hands clenching into fists and then opening. At length he said, “We burn her. Her father was a salamander, and she should be returned to her maker by fire.”
The Warders shook themselves free of their elemental forms and gathered under the Ravensblood. Hector picked up a rake used to gather hedge clippings and scraped the kindling and twigs into a pile. Then he poured the last of the kerosene over the impromptu bonfire. He handed the matchbox to Elijah.
The young man glanced to his uncle, then lit a match and threw it onto the remains of his mother.
28
It was a subdued party that moved back through the maze to the house. Dawn was mindful that Elijah had now lost both his parents, and while the lad said Ava meant nothing to him, the death of his mother wasn’t something to celebrate.
Lettie walked arm in arm with the young man. Marjory and Hector held hands, although the nurse kept pushing at the retainer and telling him to get away. Dr Day walked at the back of the small group, his black bag dangling from one hand.
Dawn pulled Jasper to a halt and let the others vanish around a bend in the maze. “What did Ava mean when she said your father ruined her family?”
“I don’t know. My father lived for a thousand years and fought many battles. The last, in which he was greatly injured, was when Elizabeth Tudor made him earl, gifted him this land, and the Warder council entrusted my parents with a Ravensblood sapling. Perhaps in saving England he wronged her family, or it might have been from an earlier time.” He ran one hand through his hair and removed a leaf from his battle with Ava.
Dawn let out a sigh. So many families locked in a never-ending battle for vengeance. When would it be over, or did they ride the swing of the pendulum until the end of time? She had thought defeating Ava would be the end to their concerns, but so many strands remained. “Lettie said that Ava stole her Cor-vitis seed. If she did, how do we recover it now she has been destroyed?”
Jasper glanced at the corner of yew where his sister had disappeared. “I don’t know. I didn’t even think such a thing was possible. Did she say when?”
“Years ago, possibly even decades.” Sadness dropped through Dawn. How she wished the quiet doctor was Lettie’s perfect match, but if the seed had germinated from someone’s touch decades ago, it couldn’t possibly be him. How would they ever pinpoint when it happened, let alone who was at the estate at the time? Finding Lettie’s seed and match would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.
“Ava might have thought to use it to trick me or Julian into thinking she was a true mate. But as to how we find it, I have no idea. It would have to be here, somewhere.” Jasper gestured to the tall green walls and beyond.
Dawn’s analogy of needle in haystack evaporated, now she was searching for one tiny invisible seed hidden somewhere in hundreds of acres. It was even more hopeless than diving into a pile of hay.
She tried not to be disappointed. Just as the Ravensblood had healed her by removing the traces of Ava’s vine, she hoped the tendril in Lettie’s head was likewise squashed. Perhaps when her mind healed, she might remember more about who awoke the seed. Even if they never found her Cor-vitis, she could still have a chance at a happy life with the gentleman who sparked the reaction. Unless he had married decades ago and was now a fat, old grandfather.
Jasper pulled Dawn close and placed a finger under her chin. He tilted her face. “Lettie will heal and then I suspect will want to set sail. We have all been prisoners for too long.”
Then he kissed her, a leisurely taking as the moon rose above then. Dawn had pressed closer to him when something nudged against her side.
Mouse.
She laughed and patted the wolfhound.
“We were probably taking too long for him,” Jasper said. “I suspect he’s going to want to sleep in my room now.”
“Is that an invitation? I’ve not seen your room.” She smiled in the growing dark. She had tried to imagine where he might sleep in the big house. Would his room have some remnant of the boy in there, like a toy hidden under the bed, or would it be the domain of a man nearly three hundred years old and full of cobwebs and dusty reminders of lives long since passed?
“We can remedy that oversight,” he growled.
The dog barked and trotted ahead as they left the maze.
The lines drawn by the Cor-vitis on Dawn and Jasper faded over the next few days, and an identical intricate knot work pattern slowly emerged on both their upper arms. As her wrist healed, the splinter merged with her skin to form a trunk with tiny leaf-covered branches curved around her wrist like a bracelet – a miniature replica of the Ravensblood tree.
Each day she discovered more about the unique connection between Lord Warder and the Ravensblood. Dawn was aware of each Warder on the estate as silver strands that radiated out from the tree to the individual. The link to Jasper was stronger and pulsed with a life of its own. She had only to pluck a strand as though it were a harp string and the Warder would answer.
Dawn couldn’t completely abandon the cosy gardener’s cottage, and it didn’t feel right to move into Jasper’s enormous suite. Their nights were divided between a number of different beds, including the one in the lavender room. The gentle civility of the furnishings reminded her of home and made her feel closer to her parents, and she sought its soothing purple and grey tones when grief raised its head.
Jasper never uttered a word of complaint but simply laid his head next to wherever Dawn chose to sleep. Although he did occasionally mutter under his breath about the bed in the cottage being both too small for certain activities but not so large that she could escape his grasp while they slept.
As a sign of her move to the big house, Dawn relocated the delicate orchid to the side table in the family’s private drawing room. The plant’s vivid cerise blooms were a punch of colour amid the soothing greens and browns that showcased the orchid perfectly.
Today Dawn sat in the drawing room with an open sketchbook on her lap doodling plans for a conservatory. It was a type of space the manor house lacked, and a glass enclosure would give them somewhere warm and sunny to sit when the temperatures outside plummeted over winter. She had decided the south side of the house, reaching toward the herbaceous border, would be the best location. Now she had to decide on a shape and size. She had brought the obsidian egg to sit on her papers and held the warm weight in her hand as she drew. Rubbing its stone surface soothed her and reminded her of her mother.
Lettie and Elijah played chess at a table with the board inlaid in the surface. Two serious faces studied the pieces. Every day the tight lines around Lettie’s eyes diminished and her laughter seemed lighter and more natural. She had less need for Nurse Hatton, and soon the older woman would be free to live her twilight years as she pleased.
Jasper sat in a worn leather armchair by the fire. An open book rested in his hands, but Dawn caught him staring at her when he didn’t think she would notice. At night, they exchanged quiet words of love, and with each day, that bond grew into something stronger and deeper. She wondered if he plotted his proposal but didn’t want to ruin her anticipation of the event by asking.
Hector knocked briefly on the door and then entered. “Large trunk arrived on today’s train for Miss Dawn.”
“Oh marvellous.” She laid down pencil and set the egg to wobble on the pad as she rose to her feet. “It will be all that remains of my life in Whetstone.”
“And a letter accompanied the trunk,” Hector said, holding out a cream envelope.
Dawn froze and glanced to Jasper.