The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [14]
Somehow, in the Barrens, when he and Lirith huddled out of the soundless fury of the storm while Falken ventured into the ruin that had once been the Keep of Fire, the witch had touched his hand, and she had come close to him. Perilously close. He had seen his past play out while she watched, as if performed by actors on a stage, and all the deepest secrets of his heart had been laid bare.
In the time since, he and Lirith had never discussed that moment. However, he could see the knowledge in her eyes each time she and Aryn were near. Which was all the more reason why it was best that he return to Embarr. Aryn could never know of his feelings—would never know. She had burdens enough to bear without having a love she could never return placed upon her.
If only Durge could find a way to take his leave of the baroness without causing her harm. In her innocence, it seemed she had grown fond of his care and protection. It was a fondness Durge knew must not be mistaken for something deeper. All the same, to leave her might cause her distress, and that was something he could not do.
With a sigh—and no answer to his dilemma—the knight turned from the window.
As he did, he nearly collided with a trio of young women. Durge did not know any of them by name, although he recognized them as ladies of the queen’s court. What had caused them to rise before the dawn? Then he noticed their wind-snarled hair, the dirt on their hands and cheeks, and the bits of dry grass and twigs that clung to their gowns, and he was certain they had not just risen but instead were only now going to their beds.
He nodded to them, and the young women burst into giggles. They bent their heads, whispering as they glanced at the knight, and despite himself he felt his cheeks grow hot. This brought more peals of mirth. Then, clutching each other, the three ran down the hall.
Durge glowered. He appreciated women of strength. His noble mistress, Lady Grace, was a woman of power. But of this—these idle games of spells and mischief—he did not approve. Would that Aryn not become such as these women. Although he doubted that would happen. Her teacher, the Lady Lirith, was not given to frivolity, and for that Durge respected her.
All the same, Durge wondered if perhaps Sir Beltan wasn’t onto something. There were too many women in this castle with too many secrets, all watching and waiting. It was like the card he had drawn from the crone’s deck: the woman gazing down from the moon, beautiful but watching.
He had been right about the Mournish; they were indeed a queer folk. Going to them had been unwise, for the old woman’s words had seemed to upset both Aryn and Lirith.
And what of her words to you, Durge of Stonebreak?
But it was more trickery, that was all. In these last months Durge had seen wonders, yes, but they had been wrought by the hands of gods, not men. He did not believe in such human magic.
And yet magic shall be the death of you.…
An icy breath of air coiled around Durge, and he shivered as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Had the window behind him swung open? If so, this was a wind out of the depths of winter, not the gentle days of late summer. He turned back toward the window to shut it and for the second time that morning saw a ghost.
Man of logic though he was, he knew at once those shades were more than a mirror’s tricks of light and shadow. They stood before the window—which was still tightly shut—as colorless and translucent as the mist beyond. She was a maid of twenty, lovely if far from perfect, with an overlarge chin and wide eyes, her hair the stuff of shadows. Before her stood a tiny child, his mouth a pretty bud. His hair was as light as hers was dark. They had never known where he had gotten it, for both of them had hair of brown.
Durge’s heart had stopped beating. This was a stillness akin to death. The two seemed neither sad nor happy. They only stared forward, their expressions without emotion. Did they even see him? Then her eyes met his, and there was pale recognition in them. She opened her