“Gabriel…”
He brings me into the cradle of his arms and meets my eyes. “You and I are at the foothills of our journey. Neither of us trust each other. When we do—” his fingers wrap around my wrist, right where that binding tattoo sits, “—everything will change.”
My pulse throbs in my throat. Is he talking about forever with me? Promising a future different than the one we have right now? Or is he pledging to someday bed me?
As quickly as he touched me, he lets go, and turns away. Leaving behind his warmth and the hint of something else. Secrets?
Gabriel is keeping things from me as ardently as I keep things from him. I feel it in every fiber of my being.
I sink to the edge of the mattress. “I don’t understand you.”
The shadow of the doorway frames him as he pauses near it. “You will.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Aflock of birds flies overhead as I stop in front of Kassandra’s cottage the following afternoon. She opens the door on my third knock and ushers me inside. Averill smiles from her place in a chair near the lone window where she sews what looks to be a dark gray surcoat.
“Hello, Sol. Did you enjoy the festival?” she asks.
“I did.”
My skin warms as I recall the way Gabriel kissed me. He may not have initiated the moment. He responded, though. Oh, how he responded.
Averill smiles and continues sewing tiny stitches along the hem.
Kassandra cuts me a thick slice of bread and leads me into her bedroom, a cozy looking space large enough for her bed and a washing stand.
We sit on the edge of the mattress, where she speaks first.
“I’m so happy, Sol.” A wide grin spreads across Kassandra’s mouth and shines in her lively blue eyes.
“Your grandmother was right.” I tear off a piece of bread and take a bite.
“She’s always right.” A frown wrenches at Kassandra’s mouth. “I mean, about things like this. She rambles about many other things that haven’t made sense in summers.”
“Like Hector?” I ask, testing the waters.
The famed warrior seems more a myth than a reality.
Kassandra nods. “Yes, like Hector.”
“Your grandmother seems to like him.” Something else stands out from the festival, something I overheard Praxis say. “Are Praxis and Alden related?”
She smiles and nods. “Alden is Praxis’ father, and yes, they’re both related to Luc.”
“But Luc and Praxis aren’t brothers?” If only I had learned more about Roland’s family before I came here.
“No.” Kassandra shoves curls from her cheeks. “Cenric is Praxis’ brother.”
“Oh.” Inwardly, I frown as I think of the long-haired warrior. “Where is Luc and Leah’s family?”
Sadness stretches across Kassandra’s features, thinning the lines near her mouth as she frowns. “Their mother died giving birth to Leah. Their father…” Kassandra exhales. “He was murdered over ten summers ago.”
Empathy wells in my chest. Empathy for Luc and Leah.
“There used to be a lot more of them. Before…” Kassandra stares down at her hands and shakes her head.
“Before?”
