CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
There wasn’t much to pack. Everything I had would fit into a double-sided saddlebag with room to spare. I wasn’t taking the new clothes I’d bought. I’d leave those here for Pauline, since I couldn’t wear them in Civica anyway. I’d take some food too, but this time I’d be staying at inns along the way. That was one of the concessions I’d made when Pauline angrily threw the pouch of jewels I had given her back in my face. We had argued all afternoon. There had been words with Berdi too, but she finally accepted that I had to go. As for Gwyneth, I think she knew all along, even before I did.
But Pauline had become fierce in a way I had never seen. She finally stomped off to the tavern when I pulled my bag from the wardrobe. I couldn’t tell her that hers had been one of the faces I had seen in the meadow. A face like Greta’s, open-eyed but not seeing, another casualty if I didn’t do something.
Whether the alliance ended up being effective or not, I couldn’t take the chance of even one more person I loved being destroyed if I might have been able to prevent it. I looked around the small cottage to see if I had forgotten anything and saw my garland of lavender flowers hanging from the bedpost. I couldn’t take it with me. The dried flowers would only be crushed in the saddlebag. I lifted it from the bedpost and held it to my face, sniffing the fading scent. Rafe.
I closed my eyes, trying to force away the sting. Even though there was nothing he could say or do to make me change my mind, I’d thought he’d at least try to talk me out of it. More than try—demand. I had wanted him to give me a hundred reasons why I should stay. He hadn’t even given me one. Was it that easy to let me go?
I understand about duty.
I swiped at the tears rolling down my cheeks.
Maybe he had seen it in my face. Maybe he’d heard the resolve in my voice. Maybe he’d been trying to make it easier for me.
Maybe I was just making excuses for him.
Lia, I have to take care of something early, but mid-morning I’ll meet you at the blue cistern for one last good-bye. You shouldn’t be farther than that by then. Promise you’ll meet me there.
What good would one last good-bye do? Wouldn’t it just prolong the pain? I should have told him no, but I couldn’t do that either. I saw the anguish in his face, as if he were battling something large and cruel. My news had jolted him. Maybe that was all I needed, some sign that he didn’t want me to go.
He had pulled me into his arms and kissed me gently, sweetly, like the first time he had kissed me, remorseful as he had been that night.
“Lia,” he whispered. “Lia.” And I heard the words I love you, even if he didn’t say them.