Текст книги "A vow of blood and tears"

Автор книги: Cate Corvin

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 41 страниц)

And with the truth, that conversation ended.

“Are you finished?” he asked abruptly. “I should take you to Wyn.”

I nodded, feeling like I’d ruined a perfectly good moment, and packed my journal and pen away. One of the keep servants slid past us unobtrusively, packing up the tableware I’d left behind—it made me feel a little guilty to see someone else picking up my mess.

But Bane had taken my hand, and as he guided me to a corner of the keep I hadn’t yet seen, new scents met my nose: the omnipresent tang of blood, but also herbs and smoke and spices.

“This is the Tower of Autumn, where Wyn and Visca live. You are never to enter if she’s not here, understand?” He took a breath when I looked up at him. “I don’t mean to condescend to you as though you’re a child, but there are things here that are dangerous to all of us. Things that should never see the light of day. Nobody is permitted in this tower without Wyn’s presence, not even me.”

Now I’m not so sure I want to go in, I signed. Maybe we should just go to bed? 

He knocked on the door, and Wyn opened it, her eyes gleaming with a fervor so intense I wondered if I’d spend the next hour looking over lists with her.

“Oh, lovely, she’s here.” Wyn beckoned me in, and shooed Bane away. “You go on. I’ll send her to you when I’m done.”

I looked back at Bane, silently begging him with my eyes to save me, but Wyn shut the door on him and hustled me into a chaos of desks and tables and arcane alchemical equipment. I was suddenly more conscious of my elbows than I’d ever been in my life.

“I’m working on something that requires another donation of blood. I’ll need… oh, about as much as we required for the ritual of the vows. Come here.”

She brought me to a desk covered with clean cloth, laid out with an iron vessel and another one of those leaf-shaped blades, polished to perfection.

With an internal sigh, I held out my arm and signed with the other. What is this for?

“I will suppose that you asked me the particulars of this donation, and I shall tell you… absolutely nothing.” Wyn gripped my hand gently, aligning the blade at my wrist. “I haven’t the faintest idea if this will even work. I’m stretching my arts and knowledge to their absolute limits, which is very exciting, but also…”

Also what?

The knife bit into my wrist, and I winced as Wyn turned my arm over, massaging it to increase the blood flow into the vessel.

“Well, it may end in death and tragedy, but there’s a price to be paid for knowledge,” she said cheerfully.

I wondered if she was entirely sane, or if years of living in the Below had given her a rather warped view of things.

It took several minutes to collect the blood she wanted—at least twice what I’d given for the vows—before she pressed a healing cloth to the wound and instructed me to hold it there.

She covered the vessel with a length of white silk, then leaned on the table and eyed me beadily. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to speak about to you.”

I tilted my head in query; my wrist still stung too much to move that hand.

“You are starving Bane.”

An accusing silence fell between us. Wyn didn’t blink even once, keeping her gaze fixed evenly on me.

I tried to sign, but she shook her head. “I don’t want to hear excuses. You made the vows to offer your blood as his, and you are starving him. He is living on the blood of murderers and rapists—a Lord, polluting his body with that filth, because you are starving him.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I tried to swallow it down; wasn’t I spending enough hours of the day wallowing in my own guilt, knowing I was denying him the blood I’d promised him and unable to shake my terror of it?

When he’d painted the picture of it for me, he’d somehow made it seem so distant; drinking from those who were convicts, prisoners… but hearing Wyn state it so baldly made it a thousand times worse.

He drank from rapists. From murderers. Not from someone who offered their blood with love.

No wonder he hadn’t wanted to speak of it to me.

“I’m not going to rail at you and demand to know why,” Wyn said. She tucked a lock of silver-and-blonde hair behind her ear, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “As I said, I don’t want to hear excuses or reasons. But I do want you to know what is happening—that he is slowly starving, because the ancestors know that he despises drinking from the veins of such foulness. And you should understand that if this should continue, whatever respect you have now from our people will fade into dust. You will be considered a ball and chain around his ankle, and your death and the subsequent choosing of a new bride will be a cause for great celebration.”

Something stung in my eyes; I blinked hard, trying to get it out. Maybe some dust, or an eyelash, but certainly not tears at the fact that I was a burden on Bane’s life.

“I’ve told you before that I like you, Cirrien, and that remains true,” she said gently. “But to a vampire, this is a grave insult. They won’t care that you were chosen by the whims of fate, or that you didn’t ask for this; they will only care that you made your vows to him and failed to uphold them. I know it’s not fair.”

Life isn’t fair, I signed, letting the bandage slip away. I’d rather feel pain; I thought I might deserve it a little.

“If you want to avoid being hated, and merely tolerated because you’re a requirement, I would suggest trying a little harder. We love him, but we hardly know you. And right now… when we look at you, we see a fiend in constant pain from his thirst, and a woman who has no marks on her.” She closed her eyes. “I once offered to find him a new lover if you could not handle the reality of your new life. If he continues to starve, to live in the agony of constant thirst, I will renew that offer. You will be the Lady of the Rift in name only, but his devotion will never be yours.”

By the Light, my throat ached; with unshed tears and words I couldn’t speak to defend myself. But how could I defend myself? She wasn’t wrong.

The vampires would see me as a leech, maybe even worse than one: I lived in luxury now, had been given everything my heart desired, and… I couldn’t even try to share my blood.

“I’m always the one lecturing you, aren’t I?” she asked with a wry smile. “Visca tells me to let it go—that you two will find your own way, or you won’t. But I’m not the kind of person who can just let things be. If you hate me for this, I’ll accept that, but I can’t let this continue without a warning.”

I nodded, still trying to swallow past that lump in my throat. It was fairly done.

She led me to the door and opened it. “I’m sorry, Cirrien, but if it’s hatred, you must find a way to let it go. If it’s disgust, you must find a way to reject it. And if it’s fear, you must find a way to overcome it. If there’s one thing I can promise, it’s this: Bane will never harm you.”

I nodded, and stepped into the hall with my head down. My own shame didn’t allow me to meet her eyes.

Without waiting for another word, I strode down the corridor, wanting to be alone with my own thoughts.

I couldn’t imagine hating Bane, nor even being disgusted by him, but… the fear I felt near his teeth was so overwhelming. How the hell was I supposed to overcome that stark, shrieking terror?

Most of all, I felt terrible guilt. Bane had gone out of his way to welcome me, to understand me, to give me a new purpose, and what had I done for him?

Nothing.

I slowed as I approached the Tower of Winter, and took the bandage from my wrist. The cut Wyn had made was now a pale pink, scar-like mark.

The knife had been as sharp as Bane’s teeth. Surely it wasn’t so much different.

Just… like many knives. All at once.

In my throat.

I shivered, my arms and back prickling with goosebumps, and shook that thought away. He was terrible to behold, but gentle and kind. He would never hurt me deliberately.

I tucked the bandage in a pocket in my dress, and steeled myself. I didn’t give a damn about the luxury, or the maids, or the pretty dresses. I cared only about Bane himself, and between the lines Wyn had made it clear—I wasn’t just starving him, I was making him feel worthless and unwanted.

That was the last thing I wanted to do to him.

So, to steel my nerves, I recounted my accomplishments. I had worked my fingers to the bone and sold years of my life to achieve things the Sisters hadn’t thought possible of me, but by the Light, I had done it anyway.

And if I could do that, then I could master my fear.

I could be what Bane deserved.

I stepped into the tower, shutting the door behind me. Bane stood at the foot of the bed, his back to me… he’d peeled off his oddly-tailored shirt, exposing his broad shoulders and brawny torso, the armor-like, blunted thorns rising from his spine and shoulders. That coal-black mane of hair spilled over his shoulders.

Fear gripped me, sharp and implacable. He was gentle, but still a beast. Kind, but still a monster.

With terribly jagged fangs.

“You’re here,” he said. “Come to bed, Cirri.”

By the Light, I was a coward.

I put my journal on the nightstand, and unlaced my overdress, following his orders and climbing into bed like I belonged there.

I didn’t belong at all. I didn’t deserve a single nice thing if I couldn’t bare my throat to him.

But my body betrayed me as he climbed into the bed, remaining motionless. It would take exactly one simple movement to tip back my head, exposing my neck, but my spine remained adamantly locked in place.

Bane curled his large form around me, and tentatively reached out to wrap a hand around my waist. “May I hold you?” he asked, his deep voice huskier than usual, a banked fire glimmering in his amber eyes.

Yes, you’d better. I wriggled closer to him, soaking up his warmth.

How could I be so afraid of his teeth, yet so intrigued by the rest of him? I breathed in his scent as his hand snaked around me, pulling me closer. The size of his body, the smoothness of that coal-gray skin… I was aware that he still wore trousers, hiding himself from me, but his cock was hard as stone behind those laces.

I reached out, tentative in my own way, and rested a hand on his chest.

Would he push me away if I tried to touch him?

Bane’s eyes glimmered faintly in the dark. “What are you doing, my Cirri?”

His Cirri. It almost took my breath away.

Touching you. I knew he wouldn’t understand, but I still signed. I’m curious about you. 

To make my point, I splayed my hand on his chest once more, his skin like velvet against my callused fingers.

Then I trailed them down, moving over the hard muscle of his stomach, tracing the contours of the ridges and valleys…

He took my hand, stopping me in my path. “You are afraid of me.”

I looked up at him, at those eyes gleaming with yellow nightshine in the darkness.

“You have good reason to be.” His smile flashed, the faintest moonlight catching the edges of his fangs, and a chill ran down my spine. “I won’t allow you to force yourself to touch me. But if you let me… I’ll show you that you don’t need to fear.”

It wasn’t his touch I feared, only his bite. My own muscles were rigid, still tense from Wyn’s accurate accusations, and to Bane, who was sensitive to the body language of prey… that must feel like I was terrified, forcing myself to be here.

But I would have to get my journal to make myself clear, and I didn’t want to get up from the warm circle of his arms.

Instead I nodded, still looking him in the eye, and carefully removed my hand from the cage of his claws to put it on his chest again with a very deliberate motion.

He exhaled, his disfigured lips twisting into a smile. He slipped his hand around me again, stroking my waist through the thin gown. His thumb brushed the bottom curve of my breast, and despite the fangs on display, my nipples hardened to tight buds.

“Do you trust me to touch you?” he asked, and I nodded again.

His hands were so soft and warm. Every movement was thought out, his claws held away from my flesh. He stroked with the pads of his fingers, moving his palm down over my thigh.

I tensed only for a moment, when he bunched the edge of my gown in his fist, and Bane waited until I relaxed.

It’s not you, I signed. I’ve never really been one for getting naked in front of people. 

I’d met the Cathedral hostler in the attic atop the Sisters’ stables, where the light was poor. He’d seen me nude in bits and pieces, but most of our trysts were done quickly and clumsily in the dark. As for the bowyer’s apprentice, it was the same: on my rare evenings off from studies or work, we would meet in the park, or occasionally a cheap room in an inn, and we never took the time to study one another. They were meetings to release tension, to have a quick connection with another human, little more.

But Bane was neither a gangly lad nor a taciturn man. I sensed his own curiosity, his own desire, swamped by the need to be careful.

So I stroked his hand, encouraging him.

He held his breath, drawing it up over my thighs, his fingertips never leaving my skin. He trembled.

It was that little quiver of the fingers that destroyed me inside.

Touch me, I signed, and put my hand on his cheek, cupping him in my palm.

He finally let out his breath, sliding the gown up over my hip. His hand rested on the curve, fingers tightening for a fraction of a second as though he meant to grab me fully.

But he moved his hand upward, over my stomach, until he cupped a breast. His thumb brushed my nipple, sending a shiver of pleasure through my nerves.

I would never be able to speak my desires aloud, but I had learned to express the sounds of my pleasure through breath: a soft gasp, an exhale of ecstasy. But I’d had to think about those, how to express myself to men who weren’t there to listen, but only to feel for a brief time.

With Bane, I didn’t have to think. I drew in a sharp breath, my back arching, and he squeezed again, kneading my breasts as his own breathing grew raspier.

His hand moved down, the very tips of his claws leaving pink lines on my skin, and he gently pushed my legs apart.

I had to trust him, as much as I wanted him to trust me, so I didn’t fight. I obeyed his silent order, my skin aflame from the way he looked at me, with hunger and barely-restrained lust. His cock was pulsing with his heartbeat against my leg as he traced his claws from my inner knee to the apex of my thighs, and my clit tingled with anticipation.

But Bane hesitated, swallowing, and a thrill of fear spiraled through me. His claws were sharp, and compared to him I was fragile, as delicate as glass.

But terror was a bedfellow to lust; adrenaline hummed in my veins, my nerves icy with fear and burning with desire. I had felt it for him before and it returned now, consuming me, a desperate need to feel him.

My stomach flipped as his head lowered, his forked tongue slipping between his fangs.

The twinned tips flickered over my breast, tasting me. They split, wrapping around my nipple and tightening before Bane released me. He snarled deep in his throat, and the primal need in that sound made me shudder as one massive finger slid between my nether lips.

I gasped without thought, my hips jerking forward, and Bane hissed.

“Be still, lover.”

Of course. There were claws, very close to a sensitive place.

I wanted to touch him in return, to wrap my hand around that throbbing shaft, but Bane’s muscles were quivering against me, his hand cupping my pussy, one fingerpad pressed to the swollen, aching pearl.

I realized he was holding himself back. If I tried to touch him and succeeded… he might forget his promise to be gentle. He might not be able to help it.

So I obeyed again, my breathing fast and shallow, forcing myself to be still.

He moved again, stroking me with the pad of his finger, bringing wetness from my core to my clit. My breath caught in my throat, all of my focus on holding myself still, but I couldn’t help the slight arch of my hips against him.

Not while heat was spiraling through me, settling in my center like a flood of fire. He moved his fingers in tight circles, pressing down harder with every pass. A low growl emanated from his chest, his eyes fixed on my pussy and the muscles jumping in my stomach.

“Gods, I want you.” His voice became distorted, so low it rumbled in my bones. “I want to taste you when you come.”

I couldn’t hold still, my nerves tingling, the sight of Bane’s restrained wanting overpowering even the fear of his fangs. My hips moved, rocking with the motion of his hand. His pupils had become thin slits, the sign of a hunting vampire.

That forked tongue tasted the air and he groaned, fingertips crushing against my clit harder, and that force, with the intent look on his face, shattered me.

My entire body shuddered, hips bucking, and Bane crushed his entire palm to me—keeping his claws from my flesh, grinding against my clit as the uncontrollable peak exploded through me, my breath as raspy as his. My nails dug into the blankets beneath us as I rode it out.

I finally collapsed in a languid puddle, skin flushed, and Bane slowly caressed his hand up over my stomach.

He was still hard as iron, his shaft ground against my hip, but when I reached for him…

He caught my hand, pulling me against him, my back to his chest. I should’ve known, but I was too wrung-out to fight.

“My lovely Cirri.” His voice was rough, raw, but his arms were an implacable prison. He stroked me from shoulder to hip, his fingers dancing over my skin. “You’ve trusted me. Let’s not tempt fate now. Sleep with me.”

I understood. He was on the edge, torn between thirst and desire.

And I was still too much of a coward to face the beast’s fangs.

So I settled against him, letting the sleepy, warm glow take me under.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 20 Bane

In the early hours of the morning, well before dawn light dared to breach the mist of the Rift, I stroked the spill of crimson hair on my pillow and wondered if I was still dreaming.

Had I really spent the previous months fearing what my life was to become? Locked every day in a torment of knowing that I would be hated, despised, that the faceless woman I’d pictured as my wife would bar and bolt her doors against so much as a word from me… and now here I was, after a night of touching her, holding her in my arms, thinking that I couldn’t possibly be awake.

This couldn’t be real, and yet it was.

Cirri shifted in her sleep, curling up tighter and letting out a tiny sigh. I pulled the blanket over her, tucking it in around her shoulders. With one last touch, barely a graze over her cheek, I climbed from the bed with as little motion as possible, determined not to wake her.

My eyes didn’t need light to find proper clothes, and she was still sleeping as I leaned from the window to pluck one of the tiny roses that had bloomed on the climbing vines outside.

Her hand was curled on the pillow, the other tucked under the blanket beneath her chin. I set the rose near her fingers, where she’d find it when she woke and know that I hadn’t wanted to leave her here alone… but there were things I needed to do, people I needed to see.

I opened her journal, debating the wisdom of what I was about to do—this journal was hers, and hers alone. But it was also our conversation on the page…

I picked up her pen, carefully pinching it between thumb and forefinger. While I had shattered my fair share of pencils—and Serissan glass quills were completely out of the question—the last thing I wanted was to so much as dent her main method of clear communication.

I have gone to attend my duties, but I will find you as soon as I can, my lovely rose. Koryek will bring you to the library, and if I do not see you before noon, I will come find you for dinner. 

I paused, and finally signed it as ‘your devoted beast’. She would understand that I was joking, I hoped.

I laid the pen atop the journal and quietly slipped from the room.

With every day that passed, fear and confidence grew in equal measure—confidence that this might not be a living hell, but a reward I hadn’t deserved; fear that one day she would wake up and realize she slept next to a monster, and that the only answer to a monster was to escape from it.

I would do my best not to be a beast she needed to run from. The note tucked into my shirt pocket seemed to burn against my skin, not only because I was hiding it from Cirri, but because I hadn’t been sure that my hopes would be answered.

The keep was already rising, along with the sun; I made my way to the Tower of Summer just ahead of servants bearing breakfast.

Of all the towers, this one was the tidiest, decorated with what the human nobles of Ravenscry had left behind when I took their throne. To my eye, it was overwrought and impersonal, all gilt and flowery still-lifes and overstuffed furniture, but it was usually reserved for visiting nobles, who seemed to like such things.

The guest now inhabiting the tower was not a noble, nor a vampire; the Silent Brother answered the door at my knock, giving me a brief, impersonal bow of greeting.

“I thank you for responding to my summons,” I said, stepping into the tower. “Of course, there will be gold in it for you, for every day that you are here.”

He grinned; the last time I’d seen him, in the tavern in Thornvale, I’d given him enough gold to live on for a year. When I’d written a note to my steward, asking him to pass the message along to Thornvale in the hopes that the Brother would still be there—and still interested in making an enormous sum of money—I’d wondered if he had already moved on to better climes, but the ancestors were looking out for me this time.

He was not a Silent Brother I recognized from the Rift’s small chapter, but he’d likely fought under the commands of one of my fellow fiends; speaking to me didn’t seem to phase him at all.

The Brother had shed his leather armor and wore only the pure white uniform of his order, and he unclasped a tiny notebook from the belt around his waist, producing a blunted pencil.

I’m Brother Glyn, happy to be of service, he wrote. The Vale chapter desperately needs the gold. This time, though, I think we should start at the beginning, properly. None of us learn to speak as you attempted, every word and concept all at once.

“Agreed. I’ve retained very little of it.”

When Brother Glyn sat in a chair, I sat across from him, selecting a sofa that looked like it would hold my weight with minimal complaint.

He tipped his head; he was as clean-shaven as every other Silent Brother, only the darkest stubble visible on his scalp, his blue eyes curious. He scrawled quickly and passed the little notebook to me.

Before we begin, I confess to some interest in why one of the four fiends would be interested in learning the priests’ tongue. 

I passed it back. “My wife is mute. She is fluent in the priests’ tongue, and it seems an unnecessary burden to force her to communicate via writing.”

He nodded, considering that, and I quickly added, “She belonged to the Silver Sisterhood.”

I couldn’t claim that I wasn’t the slightest bit concerned by the now-muted interest in Brother Glyn’s eyes; they were forbidden from speaking, but not from marriage. But the Silent Brothers and the Silver Sisterhood considered each other siblings, in the strange way of their religion; those who devoutly followed the Lady of Light, taking oaths in her service, did not intermingle.

So maybe there was a touch of jealousy. Cirri and this Silent Brother would be able to speak to each other far more easily and fluently than I communicated with her; he was not unattractive; and, most of all, he was human.

You are a wretched sack of covetousness, I told myself, and promised her silently that if she came across Glyn, I would not interfere with her speaking to him.

She should speak to whomever she wanted and that was fine, it would all be all right, because she slept in my bed every night and let me touch her and told me about her day over dinner.

I’ve brought a book, Glyn wrote. I borrowed it from the chapter in Frost Home on the way north. We will begin with the basics, the individual letters of the Veladari alphabet. That is likely what she speaks, if she learned from the Sisterhood. If you can memorize half of it today, I will be pleased with your progress. 

He rose from the chair, disappearing into the bedroom, and returned with an enormous, battered book, bound in worn brown leather and clearly well-used.

Glyn sat down, placed it on the table between us, and leafed through several pages. There were drawings of hands, each with a letter of the Veladari alphabet labeled beside them.

He held up a closed fist, palm out, thumb angled upwards. A, was the letter he pointed to.

I imitated the motion, and it was followed with B: four fingers held straight up, palm out, thumb pressed flat below the fingers.

And so it went. I was vaguely aware of time passing as Brother Glyn took me back to the beginning, the mist swirling bright white outside the windows, the sounds filtering in from the exterior of the keep.

Cirri was well awake by now… likely already holed up in the library, working on the inventory of the ancient vampire documents. She was only a thousand feet away…

I forced myself to not think of her, because this lesson, time, and gold would be for nothing if I didn’t beat it into my thick skull. This was to speak to her, to actually hear her, which made it easier to focus.

After another two hours passed, and I could form the letters of A through J without mishap, I asked if he needed to stop.

“Do you need to take midday?” I asked, glancing through the window at the heavy veils of mist clinging to the keep’s walls. I hadn’t seen him eat that morning.

Brother Glyn shook his head and wrote. I will be on a fast until the evening, he told me. We have all the rest of the day. You’re making better progress than I’d hoped, but we’ll see if you retain it. 

By the time the sun fell behind Ravenscry’s walls, painting the sky a bloody red, my brain felt overstuffed, nearly numb. But I held up a hand, and slowly, painstakingly formed the letters without error: C-I-R-R-I.

Cirri is your wife? Brother Glyn wrote.

I nodded, still distracted by remembering the letters for the next word: H-E-L-L-O.

Glyn watched me form several more words, leaning back in his chair and nodding after each one. G-O-O-D, he signed back with one hand, and I breathed a sigh of relief at my understanding.

He switched back to the little notebook. That’s enough for today. Try to retain this much, and we’ll review tomorrow before we move on. You have the motivation to accomplish much in a short time. 

“I do,” I said, folding my hand in my lap. “She’s gone long enough with no one understanding her.”

Glyn slipped the page-marker ribbon into place and closed the book, and I finally rose from the couch, my legs tired from doing absolutely nothing all day, but it was worth it.

I gave him my hopes that the hospitality was to his liking, and escaped the Tower of Summer, following the path to the library in the hopes that Cirri was still there.

She was; Koryek and his retinue were stationed in various places throughout the library, leaving Cirri in her own little pool of light, the books spread before her. She’d twisted her hair up into a messy bun that spilled over her neck, and her fingers were splotched with ink stains.

I paused in the doorway, staring at her and thinking how strange it was to come to this room, once dusty and lifeless, and feel like I was coming home. Not until these moments, when I could collect Cirri for dinner and speak to her, had I ever felt like I truly belonged here, like this keep was my house.

She turned a page, ever so slowly, and wrote something in her journal. One of her hands drifted up, nudging aside a lock of hair to massage her neck, and my gaze focused on that smooth column.

My throat itched; even from here I could smell her, the skin musk and roses making my mouth water.

I had controlled myself last night, keeping my fangs firmly clamped together, but ancestors… the thirst never ended.

But I would rather drink convict blood from a wine decanter than frighten her away. Even if the thirst was a torment, and the ache to rut with her an agony, if it meant that she remained in my bed and let me touch her, I would take the asceticism and be grateful.

I prowled forward, letting my claws tap the floor to announce my presence. She straightened up, sucking in a breath as her back popped, and twisted her head to smile up at me.

“Surely you’ve finished the inventory and moved on by now?” I asked, resting a hand on her shoulder and doing my utmost best to not remember the way she’d felt writhing against my fingers last night, or I’d be tempted to imagine taking her right here on this table.

I did notice that she turned to a new page in her journal, preserving the note I’d written for her this morning.

Inventory is finally finished, and I’m beginning with the altar book, she wrote. I found one small portion of text in it that might prove useful—it appears to be a Veladari hymn, of all things, but I’ll take what I can get. 

“Save it for tomorrow,” I advised her. “Dinner is to be served soon, and I’ve missed you all day.”

There was a brief, unreadable flicker in those green eyes, but her smile didn’t waver. I missed you, too. 

I pulled out her chair and helped her organize the books—although my version of ‘help’ mostly involved keeping my claws off them—and led her to the little nook where dinner would be served. The servants were already bringing in the trays, uncovering a plate of paper-thin slices of meat and cheese, pickled vegetables, bread, and an assortment of honey and jam.

She laid her journal on her right, already writing as she rolled a pickled radish one-handed into a slice of cured ham.

I think you know how my day went. I’m going to be a hunchback by the time I’m done with this project, but it’ll all be worth it. I’m cross-comparing the hymn translation tomorrow. Where were you all day? What did you do?

There was no mention of my scent, so she knew I hadn’t been in the forest. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I wanted to gain more fluency before I surprised her with my new knowledge. “I’ve been studying, actually. But don’t ask me about what, because I won’t tell you.”