“I don’t believe that—”
“What do you know of the world? How often do you even step outside these walls? The way Sivo reacted when you returned with me, I don’t imagine very often. You’re blind. You can’t know.”
I hissed a stinging breath. Not only was he selfish, but he was cruel and narrow-minded and he saw too much of the truth. “I left these walls long enough to save your life. Fortunate for you, I was not struck with a surge of selfishness then.”
“I didn’t ask it of you.”
“No, but you took my help, didn’t you?” I swung back around. “My mistake. I wish I hadn’t bothered.” I paused with my hand on the latch. Swallowing, my voice came out thankfully stronger. “Next time I won’t.”
A lie on both counts.
If the same circumstances presented themselves, I would react the same way. I knew that much about me.
“Don’t worry. There won’t be a next time.”
Turning, I stepped from the room, closing the door with a dull thud behind me.
It was a long day.
Perla emerged a few times from my bedchamber for fresh linens and water. I lifted my head in her direction at the first sound of her tread, as though she might reveal something in manner or speech about Fowler. Had he mentioned to her that he knew I was sightless? Had he said anything about me at all?
Perla frequently accused me of being quick to provoke. She always pointed to my bloodlines. Apparently, my father had been hot tempered. I punched the dough I was kneading and flipped it over.
Fowler had emerged fully clothed shortly after I left him. His scent had been less potent, and I knew I would never make the mistake of failing to recognize him unclothed again. He’d walked a hard line for my chamber. I didn’t even feel his gaze upon me. He would be leaving tomorrow. Unless he changed his mind and intended to leave this very day. I didn’t know and, of course, I couldn’t inquire. That would call too much attention to the fact that he affected me.
“How’s the boy?” I asked Perla as I set the dough in a bowl and draped a linen over it.
Her response was a grunt. Madoc still lived, and she was frustrated that I had made him our problem, that I brought him here and threatened our sanctuary.
I didn’t press for more. Perla was in no mood for it. The air felt strained and tenuous enough, brittle like the ancient parchment of the few books we possessed.
I held silent as Perla gathered what she needed. Sivo hummed lightly from the chair where he sat. She banged through the cupboards, searching for something.
“What are you looking for?” I asked tentatively.
“The large bowl with the chip in it.”
I automatically reached for it behind the basket of root truffles Sivo had gathered yesterday.
She grunted again as I handed it to her, her chapped fingers brushing mine. This grunt translated to: “thank you but I’m still angry with you.”
She returned to the chamber, her tread heavier than usual.
“She’s not happy with me,” I murmured.
Sivo stopped humming. “What makes you think that?”
He was teasing. I smiled and shook my head. “Oh, just a feeling.”
“She’s scared. She loves you more than herself. We both do. We worry about what will happen to you when we are . . .”
My smile slipped as his words faded, but the rest was there. I heard it even if unspoken.
I thought of Fowler’s words. Only the selfish survive this world.
They rang ominously, an echo that I couldn’t banish. If that were true, then Sivo and Perla had long outlived their life expectancies. That should disprove his statement and not make me feel like their demise was an impending fate chasing them like a bloodhound. It shouldn’t make me feel like my own time was slipping through my fingers like water through a sieve. My throat tightened at the notion. It wasn’t so much that I could die. Everyone died. I wasn’t afraid of death.
It’s that I would die with so little to show for my life. A long stretch of days spent trapped in a tower.
I was afraid that was all I would ever have.
SEVEN
Luna
THAT EVENING I ventured into my bedchamber. Slinked really, pressing flat against the wall, hugging a fresh pitcher of water to my chest—my excuse for entering the room.
Madoc was awake, thrashing and pleading for relief in a voice that cracked. I could smell the earthy bite of sweat beading his skin. The copper of his blood tainted the room.
Dagne sniffed softly from beside the bed and adjusted her weight in the chair. “What’s your name again?”
“Luna.”
We were both quiet for a long while until her chair creaked again and she said, “You’re lucky to have this place. I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere so clean and warm. So safe. I didn’t know places like this exist.”