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I woke with a start in the middle of the night. My room was drafty and cold. I cast a lighted orb above my head.
Seren had reentered Gorlassar two days earlier. She was welcomed with open arms. No one had asked about me, at first, until she found Aneirin and Catrin.
Catrin broke down in tears when she heard I was well. Aneirin frowned and turned away as Catrin wrapped her arms around him. Seren told me later he had cried. He turned away so I couldn’t watch with my dragon sight.
His thoughtfulness during his distress saddened me immensely. As did his grief over my exile.
Seren was happy to be reunited with Cephias. Her bond with her mate caused me even more torment. I shut my mind to her. She didn’t need to feel my sorrow. I was missing a whole world. My former life. I wanted the freedom of coasting on Seren. The thrill of being champion in a tournament. I missed dancing with Catrin, surrounded by a ring of admirers during the midsummer gala.
I shook my head. Clean slate. New life.
How did I get rid of the stain on my heart-center though? The black shroud was like sticky resin. I once left Seren’s saddle under a cypress tree. Sap had dripped over the seat. No matter how much I scrubbed, a tacky stain remained, and my abrasive efforts damaged the leather.
I sighed, wondering why I was awake and stressing over things beyond my control. My own wretched sob must have woken me. I’d been crying in my sleep—again. As I mopped the tears from my face, light shifted in my mind. A stirring in the citadel. I listened for a disturbance.
Nothing. Quiet.
I slid from my bed and stuck my head into the empty hall. In my mind’s eye, light moved to the first floor. One was Caedryn’s greenish-yellow light, moving with two others.
What was he doing? I had grown suspicious of Caedryn over the past few days. He left the citadel and ventured into the city every afternoon when he thought I was reading in the library and he could safely leave me without fretting for my well-being. Every evening, after supper, he paced in front of the hearth as I pretended to embroider.
Embroider. I scoffed. Lowri asked me if I wanted a hoop, needle, and some thread to occupy myself in the evenings. She said the winters were tediously boring. My mother embroidered, but I didn’t care for it. Lowri looked so dismayed when I said no that I changed my mind. So I picked at the fabric, with my needle, drawing the thread through and making odd lines and X’s I decided might pass for flowers.
But I mostly watched Caedryn. His hands were clasped behind his back. He paced three steps forward, and turned, pacing three steps back. Often he glared in my direction. I deduced that some of his tension stemmed from having me present. Did he really feel so much concern over me? I knew that wasn’t all.
Something else unnerved him.
Lowri pointed out an obvious mistake in my stitches. I wiggled my nose and considered passing my hoop to her so she could fix the stitch.
“It’s dull work, is it not?” Caedryn paused in front of the fire.
“Uh, yes. It is,” I said, surprised he was asking me about my needlework.
“I haven’t the patience.”
“You’re ill at ease,” I said. “Sit down, or you’ll have the countryside in an uproar.”
“Are you offering comfort?”
“What comfort I could offer snarled in the storm you’re brewing.”
“You wouldn’t want me to sit and stew,” he said. “Storms that turn on themselves are the most catastrophic.”
I dropped the fabric into my lap. I couldn’t abide his agitation along with my own. As I spoke, I hoped the fire’s flames danced in my eyes and gave them greater intensity. “Storms that collide clash with raucous thunder.”
“And deadly lightning,” Caedryn said.
I gripped the hoop with both my hands and stared down at it. Did he not realize the constant cloud cover I had under the surface? A single rumpling breeze might set me off. His storm had better not collide with mine, or he’d feel a shock.
Caedryn resumed his pacing.
“It does no good to fret,” I hissed. “Fix whatever you’re fuming about.”
He halted, and his head snapped in my direction. “Since you cannot abide my company tonight, then perhaps you should retire.”
I stood and tossed my work onto the sofa. “Enjoy your solitude.” I blew out of the room, with Lowri following.
When I’d asked Lowri where Caedryn disappeared each afternoon, and if she knew why he was in such an uproar, she said, “Personal business.”
