Someone caught her arm in the hall just outside her room, and she turned to see Caiden standing there, his dark hair hanging limp in his eyes, his white cravat loose at his neck.
She stepped back and he released her, but his gaze never left her face. “What do you want?” she asked him, wary. Outside the Ruen-Dahr it was full night, the Baron several hours in his grave. Inside, lamplight flickered orange from its wall sconce.
A muscle jumped in Caiden’s jaw. He was nervous. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left.”
She dug her fingernails into her palm. “I don’t want to talk to you, Caiden.”
“I know, but—” He took a step toward her. “I have to tell you that—that I’m sorry. That I miss you. That I—that I love you—”
“Get away from me!” she snapped angrily. “You made it very clear that you never loved me.” She stalked away from him, heading toward the stairs and the meal waiting in the dining room, but he followed, grabbing for her hand. She shook him off. “Leave me alone!”
“Talia, listen. Please. I do love you. You have to understand. It was just my father. And now that he’s gone—well, that changes everything.” He stared at her, willing her to hear him. He licked his lips, another nervous tic.
“Stay with me. I’ll find a lawyer to dissolve my marriage with Blaive, I’ll make you my wife, in name as well as in truth. Please, Talia. Please.” His voice was rough with tears.
She recoiled, like she’d stepped into a pit of snakes. “I could never stay with you after everything you’ve done—not as your wife and certainly not as your mistress! If you let go of your selfishness for half a moment, you might make something of your situation—of yourself—and be the better for it. But there’s no future for us.”
“Please, Talia—”
“Goodbye, Caiden.”
She left him in the hallway and swept downstairs, every nerve on fire.
Talia stepped into the dining room and found Blaive there, alone, her head in her hands. She looked up, and Talia saw that her soft face was streaked with tears. “I thought I could make him forget you, but I was wrong. He doesn’t want me. He wants you.”
Talia’s skin was still crawling at Caiden’s words. “No, he doesn’t. Or he won’t for very long.” She looked into the other girl’s eyes. “He wants what he can’t have. What he’ll never have.”
Blaive bit her lip, chin trembling. “He barely speaks to me. He hardly looks at me. He can’t forgive me for manipulating his father—”
“He shouldn’t treat you like that no matter what you did. It was his choice to marry you. No one forced him to do it.”
“But the Baron—”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Talia, gently.
Fresh tears slid down Blaive’s pale cheeks. “He loved me, once.” Her voice cracked. “Two years ago, now. He teased me and I laughed at him and we were so happy.”
“What happened?”
“We quarreled. It was foolish, but I was sixteen and I wanted my way and he wanted his and—I went home and he didn’t come after me. I was too proud to write him, and so I didn’t. But I forgave him. I thought he would appear at Shold House one day, and we’d both apologize, and be married. Live out our lives together. Be impossibly happy.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand, curls sticking to her damp face. “But he didn’t. And then the Baron wrote me, inviting me back to the Ruen-Dahr, implying that Caiden was ready to marry, but I didn’t know he’d written without Caiden’s consent. I didn’t know Caiden had really forgotten all about me.”
Talia swallowed past her tight throat. “I’m so sorry.”
Blaive caught her eye and smiled sadly. “It wasn’t your doing.”
“Even so.” She had the sudden realization that the two of them could have been friends, perhaps, in another lifetime, in some other story. She smiled back.
Talia went directly to the music room, praying she wouldn’t bump into Caiden again on her way. Wen was sitting at the raina, mourning clothes hanging too-loose on his thin frame.
“Wen?”
He looked up, eyes unfocused behind his spectacles, and practically leapt from his seat to come over to her. “What’s wrong?” He folded his hand around hers.
“I—I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything. Anything at all.”
“I need to go away for a while. I thought—I thought maybe you would let me stay at your holding for a few weeks—for the rest of the winter, perhaps.” It would be easier, when she was away from here. Away from Caiden and the sea and her fate. She’d be able to think again.
“Of course you may stay at the Ruen-Shained, for as long as you wish,” he said, his eyes dark with concern. “What’s happened?”
“I just—I need to—I can’t see Caiden again.”
Anger hardened his face. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.” She tried to smile. “Nothing, Wen. I promise. I just need to go away.”
He studied her a moment more. “When would you like to leave?”
“Tonight. At once, if possible.”
Wen glanced out the window and nodded. It had stopped snowing. “Give me half an hour to arrange everything.”
There was only time for one trip up to the library—she grabbed as many books off the shelves as she could carry and brought them down to her room. She packed quickly, stuffing the books and an assortment of the dead Baronesses’ gowns into two ragged carpetbags she unearthed from the wardrobe. Then she settled her fur-lined cloak around her shoulders, and she was ready.
Wen appeared at her door and offered to carry the bags for her, but she only gave him one, hefting the other herself. She followed him downstairs, across the foyer, and out into the snowy drive. Ahned was waiting with Avial and Ahdairon, and he quickly loaded Talia’s bags onto the saddles.
It was freezing; the horses’ breath fogged in front of them, and Talia’s toes were already going numb. She swung up onto Ahdairon, and Wen mounted Avial, taking the lantern Ahned handed him.
Wen nudged the gelding into a trot, and Talia followed on the mare, the wind sharp and icy on her skin. The lantern bobbed from Wen’s saddle, a wayward star in the dark.
They arrived almost before she was ready to, trotting up to the house, light spilling from the windows like liquid gold onto the snow-covered drive. Wen swung down and handed his reins to Talia while he went to speak with the housekeeper. She sat and waited for him, staring up at the hesitant winter stars peeking through a patch of cloud.
Wen and Anira came out a few minutes later, the housekeeper all hugs and smiles, Wen solemn and steady beside her.
“Miss Dahl-Saida,” said Anira, helping Talia off Ahdairon. “I was so sorry to hear about the Baron’s passing. A little peace and quiet will do you good, I’m sure of it.”
Wen untied the bags, and the tall servant who reminded Talia so strongly of Ahned took them inside. “If you need anything, just send word. I’ll come as quickly as I can.”
She looked at Wen, standing there in the drive with his hands stuffed into his pockets, and she wished suddenly that he would stay with her. “Are you going to be all right?”
He shrugged. “I’m always all right.”