But, like the others, he, too had continued on.
‘There’s an inn we can stay at once we get into the town,’ Elden said as they descended towards the low-slung village in the distance. ‘Maeve, you and Jude can hide there while I fetch the robes and whatever else we might need.’
Maeve’s dark eyes reflected the pale landscape surrounding them, snow dusting the tips of her lashes. ‘Hiding in an inn? Not really how I pictured making my grand return to the Abbey.’
The edge of her smile showed over the red knitted scarf.
Hisscarf.
‘Perhaps not,’ Elden replied. ‘Safest option, though.’
‘Is it?’ Jude murmured. He glanced at the new bag slung over Elden’s shoulder, its sides bulging. Somehow, in the chaos of fleeing the church, he’d still managed to get the promised fire materials. ‘We have the wood and flint now,’ he continued. ‘Why not find somewhere to bunk down outside where it’s safer?’
Maeve’s teeth chattered audibly. Elden shook his head. ‘Saferwhere we can get warm. I’ll sell the wood if needs be. Some extra coin wouldn’t be the worst thing.’
Maeve bobbed her head in agreement. The corners of her eyes were tight, two faint lines between her brows. She’d been unusually jovial today after Elden had rejoined them, teasing and joking with a sort of frantic happiness that worried Jude more than if she’d trudged along in silence. Like she was trying to conceal the sourness of her fear with sugar.
He hated it.
He felt her hidden fear as keenly as his own; had seen her turn to the sky countless times over the hours, blinking rapidly against the headache heknewwas building behind her eyes. The Abbey’s hold grew stronger with each step towards it – why was she so determined to act otherwise?
Yet, as he watched Maeve laugh and gather snow to lob at Elden, he felt himself softening. If she’d rather spend the last few hours of relative safety feigning happiness, the least he could do was play along. No good could come out of dragging her into the pit of worry he was currently luxuriating in.
Jude bent and gathered a snowball of his own. Maeve squealed when it landed directly between her shoulder blades with a wetsplotch, spinning around and running for him. Her cheeks and nose were rosy, her grin more genuine than he’d seen it all day.
In a flurry of limbs, she tackled him backwards into the snow. It fell around them in a cold drift, flaking into his eyes. She brushed the powder off his cheeks and nose with the tips of her gloved fingers. Her lips turned up in a contagious smile. He allowed himself the span of two breaths before he braced his hands on her hips and prepared to manoeuvre them both back to their feet.
The look in Maeve’s eyes stopped him.
‘Got you,’ she whispered. Her gaze flicked from eye to eye. He drew in a quick breath. Maeve’s eyes dropped to his mouth.Her own lips parted on an exhale. Cold, gloveless fingers touched the corner of his mouth. The side of his jaw. The soft hollow under his ear.
A faint shout sounded in the distance. Elden calling their names.
Maeve’s eyes landed on his for a heart-wrenching second before she pulled off him and onto her feet. Icy air slid over him in her place. He gazed at the pearl-grey sky, contemplating the benefits of letting the snow consume him entirely. Arousal faded into nebulous, anticipatory worry. Half want and half fear.
He’d kissed women before – girls, really, since he’d been barely fifteen the last time it had happened and his partner the same age. Forbidden kisses at the back of a pub, little more than a clumsy fumbling of lips and teeth, neither of them knowing what they were doing. Over eight years had passed since the last.
He’d done nothing else.Nothing.
If Maeve were to kiss him, if she were to undress and search out pleasure from his body, he’d be clueless. Absolutely, damningly hopeless, just like he’d been in her bedroom when her waist had been warm under his hand, her eyes soft and wanting. If he hadn’t been able to take what he wanted, what she’d offered then, would he ever be able to?
Never mind that his body was peppered with scars and tattoos, both from his hand and the elders’.DEVOTIONwas scored into his back, for fuck’s sake. Though she knew it was there, he shuddered at the prospect of her seeing it in real life, touching it.
She deserved better than him in every way that counted.
The very idea of that level of vulnerability with another person sent a wash of numbness down his limbs. He couldn’t bear to disappoint her.
But yet, hewanted. More than anything.
Putting his pathetic mess of worries behind him, Jude rose.He caught up with Maeve near the path. ‘There was a passing group of pilgrims. Two children throwing snowballs.’ She studied him, face lapsing into seriousness. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine.’ He held out his arm for her to take as they trudged through the snow. ‘Well, no. I’m… apprehensive,’ he amended.
She hummed. ‘I don’t know what to expect. Especially once the hymns start.’
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll feel more settled when we’re indoors.’
Maeve fell silent, squinting up at the heavy clouds above. ‘About relics…’ Jude began, hesitant. He’d been waiting all day to bring it up. ‘Do you think it could be how the elders access the magic in the icons? How they can control our memories individually.’
