She gazed into his green-gold eyes, trying to gather her train of thought. “I don’t like the dark, either. Funny for a cypher, I suppose, but I dislike feeling helpless. That was the worst part of my captivity. At first, Markus held me in a spacious room, but I kept trying to escape, and I wouldn’t give them what they wanted, so his mother had me moved to a tiny cell under the house.”
“That’s barbaric,” Gavriel muttered. “I had no idea the Foxes were still so brutal.”
She forked potatoes into her mouth. “Then you don’t know them very well. But my point is that I endured it without losing my mind. If I had not done that, I never could have gone down into the tunnels with Kal. I wouldn’t have met Borosus. I wouldn’t have seen the source.”
He nodded. “They tried to break you,” he said. “But they only made you stronger.”
Cathrynne liked that. “Yes.” She drained her cup of tea, feeling pleasantly restored. “Do you ever walk on the moors? I wouldn’t mind a spot of exercise.”
Gavriel grinned. “Every day, when I’m home.” He stood, tossing the broadsheet aside. “Come, I’ll show you the estate.”
A flight of stone steps led down to a kitchen garden with early spring lettuce and a few cabbages, and then to a track leading across the moor. Cathrynne followed him down, glancing back to admire the manor house behind her. Everfell had a pleasingly wild, untamed appearance. Seven chimneys rose from its slate roof, and dense brambles covered its stone exterior. Prickly on the outside, she thought with amusement, just like its master. Yet like Gavriel, it also made her feel safe and wanted.
Spring had taken firm hold and the heather was in bloom, vast swathes of purple against the green meadow grass and fescue. Gavriel shortened his stride to match hers and they hiked in easy silence for a while.
“How long have you lived at Everfell?” she asked.
“About five hundred years. I’ve tried to keep it as it was when I first came. We light the hearths for warmth in the winter, and use candles and oil lamps rather than electricity. I hope it’s not an inconvenience.”
She shook her head. “Not at all. My family’s dacha in the countryside was much the same. I like the simplicity of it.”
A shadow crossed his face at the mention of the Lenormands.
“I’m sorry for the way my grandmother treated you,” she added quickly. “It was unfair.”
Gavriel looked uncertain—which was not a quality she’d seen often. “I don’t blame her. It’s my fault . . . ” He paused and drew Cathrynne to a halt. “There,” he said softly, pointing to a russet shape in the heather. They watched the fox trot past, its bushy red tail almost as large as its body, and disappear into a stand of gorse.
“She’s hunting voles,” Gavriel said with a smile. “Spring means new litters and hungry kits.”
Whatever he’d been about to say regarding Nestania, he seemed to change his mind. They rambled along dirt tracks that wound through the rolling hills, meeting more denizens of the heath. A startled chocolate-brown hare with black feet zigzagged across their path, running so fast it was a blur. A few minutes later, Cathrynne exclaimed over a nest with three speckled eggs hidden in the grasses until a pair of irate skylarks harried them onward. Gavriel pointed out golden plovers and merlins, a distant roe deer in a copse, and the tracks of a badger along a muddy section of road.
It was so different from the streets of Arioch where Cathrynne had spent her entire adult life. The city had its charms, but she began to understand Mercy’s yearly trips into the mountains to hike and camp. There was a peacefulness in the wilds, a calm solitude that healed the soul.
They reached the cliff edge in late morning. The inland sea stretched to the horizon, sunlight fracturing on the waves. Wind gusted stronger here, blowing salt spray amid the cries of gulls. They stood side by side in silence, watching the waves heave against the rocks below.
“Sometimes I launch from the cliffs,” Gavriel admitted, “and fly with the peregrine falcons.”
“For fun?” she teased.
He donned a scowl. “I am unfamiliar with that term, Rowan.”
“Oh, stop. Do you really fly with falcons?”
“I do. And we race.” He preened. “I usually win.”
She shadowed her eyes with one hand, scanning the sky. “Aren’t they the fastest thing in the world?”
“They are the fastest animal,” he said. “A falcon’s heart can beat up to nine hundred times per minute. They are extraordinary. My father borrowed some of their traits when he designed the angels.” His lips curved. “I don’t hunt small birds, but I do have the ability to tuck my wings and dive at tremendous speeds.”
Cathrynne had seen falcons perform this feat from the top of the astronomy tower in Arioch. “It makes me dizzy just thinking of it. Aren’t you afraid of crashing into the water?”
“Of course.” The wind tugged a lock of raven hair across his forehead. “That’s why it’s fun.”
“I won’t ask for a demonstration,” she laughed.
He grinned and gazed out to sea. “None of my friends are here today. They are probably tending their fledglings.” He leaned over the cliff until the soles of Cathrynne’s feet began to tingle and she reminded herself that tumbling over the edge was not a concern for him. “You can’t see it from above, but they nest on the ledges.”
She took in the wide panorama of rolling hills, distant woods, and sun-kissed waves. “This is a beautiful place. Thank you for showing it to me.”
