“She stays until she is well enough to return to the chapter house,” Gavriel said. He glanced at the bed. Cathrynne’s eyes were closed, her breathing even. Something tightened in his chest. “Until then, tell no one she is here.”
Yarl nodded. “Of course. Shall I have some tea brought round?”
“Yes, please. And food. I’m starved.”
After passing on these orders to the cook, Yarl joined him in the dining room, where Gavriel ate a quick meal of soup and cheese and sketched out the broad strokes of all that had happened in the last few days.
“I’ll keep my ear to the ground regarding events in Kota Gelangi and Arjevica,” Yarl promised. He shook his head. “I cannot believe it was the young aide who murdered Barsal Casolaba!”
“We must discover his true identity,” Gavriel said. “But I am too tired to think more on it just now.”
“You should retire, sir.”
“In a while.” He gave a weary smile. “If you need me, I’ll be in the library.”
Gavriel sought the peace of his inner sanctum and the comfortably familiar scent of cold ashes, leather, and parchment. Correspondence had piled up during his absence. Letters and entreaties from across the empire. He broke the wax seal on an official-looking missive from the Collegium in Andar Jeyla and read the opening lines.
Then read them again.
Something about a complaint over new tariffs on nutmeg and lentils, but he found it impossible to focus on the particulars. His thoughts drifted to Cathrynne and the feel of her in his arms. The rightness of it, despite his father’s laws and the harsh punishments he himself had doled out to others.
Gavriel leaned back, Valoriel’s stern, slightly contemptuous voice echoing in his head. You are an archangel of Kirith, not some lovesick boy.
No, of course he wasn’t. He had brought Cathrynne Rowan to Everfell for her own safety, nothing more. She had endured enough suffering on his behalf. She needed time to heal and recover before she resumed her duties. Everfell was the ideal place for that, peaceful and secluded, with a dozen servants at her command.
I am a shepherd, not a wolf.
Yet the words of Alluin Westwind returned to him unbidden.
I love this witch with all my soul. With every breath and thought and deed. Have you never loved someone thus?
Chapter 36
Cathrynne
Everfell sat atop a windy hill a short walk from cliffs that plunged down to the sea. The light had a bright, dazzling clarity and the air was never still, with a perpetual salt breeze blowing off the waves.
Cathrynne opened all the windows of her bedchamber and soaked in a copper tub filled with piping hot water. One of the maids was about her size and had kindly lent her two dresses suitable for the warm spring weather, one white with yellow flowers, and one forest-green with a square neckline. She chose the green one, which was a little loose in the bodice but otherwise fit perfectly. Her ribs were still tender, so she was glad for the extra room. The gathered skirt fell just below her knee, comfortable for walking and sitting.
Her room had a four-poster bed with a soft, faded quilt patterned with stars in varying shades of blue. A hope chest sat at the foot, while the other half of the chamber nearest the windows held a pine armoire smelling of mothballs and a vanity with a wavy three-paneled mirror.
Cathrynne sat down and studied her reflection. It had been over a week since she escaped from Markus and the bruises had healed to faint shadows. She looked more like herself again—on the outside. But so much had happened, she needed time to process it all.
The strange powers of Levi Bottas. Seeing her mother, sister, and grandmother after twenty years. Actually speaking to a blue emperor named Borosus . . . The last part still felt like a dream. And the flight across the Parnassian Sea! It had been exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Much of the trip had passed in darkness, and she had drifted off for long parts of it, but the sensation of being carried by an angel was not one she would soon forget.
Cathrynne liked Gavriel’s home immediately. It was quiet and peaceful, with simple, sturdy furnishings. The only sounds were the calls of birds and chirps of insects. She untangled her damp hair with a silver comb from one of the vanity drawers. It had terrible knots from the wind whipping it about, and she worked through them slowly and patiently, watching the barn swallows swoop and dive beyond the window. It made her think briefly of the illusion at Markus’s house, of the robin and the squirrel and the vast green lawns. She wondered if the spell was drawn from a real place somewhere in the world. It had been so perfect, so detailed . . .
A knock came. Cathrynne opened the door. It was the apple-cheeked maid, Mia, who had lent her the dresses.
“You look lovely, miss,” she said with a smile. “Breakfast is ready, and the master sent me to ask if you’ll join him on the veranda.”
“Oh yes, I’m famished. I’ll just get my boots on.” She looked around the room. “Er, if you know where they are.”
Mia’s blue eyes twinkled. “They were in quite a state, miss. The master took the liberty of ordering a new pair from the cobbler down at the village. You can wear these in the meantime.”
She handed Cathrynne a pair of stout walking shoes that looked to be about the right size.
“Ah, thank you.” She took the shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll be right down.”
