“I suppose we should head back,” Gavriel said with reluctance.
As they turned to the path, he bent to pick a bouquet of buttercups. He presented it to her with solemn formality, the sunlight burnishing the flecks of gold in his eyes. “I’ll have a vase with water brought to your room,” he said.
She grinned and held the bouquet under her chin. “Well?”
He looked befuddled. “Well, what?”
“If my chin turns yellow, it means I like butter. Haven’t you ever tried it?”
He shook his head, a wry grin tugging at his lips. “I must say, your chin is very yellow.”
“Then I shall have scones for dinner, with extra butter and jam,” she declared imperiously.
“As my lady desires.”
She flushed and covered it by tickling his chin with a buttercup. “Does the lord of Everfell like butter?”
“Only if it comes from the local pasture,” he said loyally. “The cows are happy, so they make the finest butter in all of Sion.”
“And do you commune with these happy cows?” she asked, as they started walking back to the house.
“I do. They are part of the estate and thus under my personal protection.” He glanced at her. “As you are, Cathrynne.”
She arched a brow.
“Not part of the estate,” he added hastily. “You know what I mean.”
“I do,” she said. “And I’m glad you brought me here. It’s a good place, and I needed that. But I should be getting back to the chapter house. I must tell them about the kaldurite.”
“Of course,” he murmured. “I have considered the matter, and I believe that under the law, it belongs to the witches. Haniel would only work mischief if she had control of it.” He paused. “It’s getting late though. One more night before you leave would do no harm. I shall miss your company, Cathrynne.”
She tried to ignore the small thrill that went through her. He meant nothing by it. And she could not . . . would not . . . Ugh. Why did her thoughts tangle so when she was near him? Flustered, she bent to add some sprigs of meadowsweet to the bouquet. The white blossoms complemented the yellow, but it also gave her a chance to gather herself.
She could not say that she would gladly stay for weeks, taking long walks with Gavriel across the moor, eating divine food, and pretending that they could be more to each other than cypher and angel.
“One more night,” she agreed. “I confess, I like it here very much.”
He looked boyishly happy. They walked back to Everfell, trailing short noonday shadows across the moor.
***
A delicious lunch had been laid out when they reached the house. Fresh lemonade with just the right amount of tartness, chilled tomato soup, cucumber and cheese sandwiches on the same soft, chewy white bread she’d had for breakfast, followed by little cakes dotted with just-picked blueberries. Cathrynne stuffed herself and regarded Gavriel’s trim waistline with envy. How on earth did he manage to eat like this every day? If she had his cook, she would end up very plump—and too content to care a whit about it.
The only thing to do after a long walk and leisurely three-course lunch was to take a nap. She retired to her bedchamber, leaving him in his study (where else?) to go over the heaps of correspondence that had piled up in his absence.
She drifted off to the cheerful warbling of robins in the birch trees. At first, she dreamt of Borosus. He was soaring above the sea, blue scales shining in the sun. A smaller Sinn with silver and green scales flew beside him. Somehow Cathrynne knew it was a female.
She stood on the cliff edge, watching them perform an intricate dance together, plummeting toward the waves in a tight spiral and then rolling away at the last moment. For such large creatures, they were graceful and acrobatic. Cathrynne felt a profound sense of awe. The Sinn were not mindless predators as she had been taught. They were thinking, feeling, intelligent beings who had been persecuted for hundreds of years.
She was about to call to Borosus when the ground beneath her feet crumbled. Dirt and pebbles skittered into the void below. She scrambled back but it was too late. The cliff gave way and she was falling, the walls racing past as she plunged to her doom on the jagged rocks?—
As often happens in dreams, there was no impact. A moment later, her pulse still thundering, she stood on a vast plain of ice and fire. The sky was as black as the bottom of the ocean. But a cold gray light, like dawn on a bitter winter’s morning, illuminated the barren landscape.
At the rim of the horizon was a smudge that might have been hills, or possibly a city, but it was obscured by the steam rising from pits in the frozen earth. Cathrynne closed her eyes and tried to wish herself back in her bedchamber.
When she opened them, nothing had changed—except that a figure was walking towards her. It had reddish skin and wore no clothing besides a loincloth around its hips. Its head was bald as an egg. The features were blandly androgynous, but as it drew closer, two small, high breasts became visible and Cathrynne revised the pronoun to she.
“Greetings!” the woman called with a toothy smile. Her head cocked in appraisal. “I am surprised to find a witch here.” She chuckled. “But all are welcome!”
