Her face was wholly unreadable. ‘Why do you think that?’
Jude tried to piece together his thoughts as quickly as he could. ‘You mentioned that they form a connection between the elders and the saints, and it was more metaphorical. But what if it’s not? What if it’s real? We know that the icons tie us to the Abbey, and that the iconographers’ magic is what forges that connection. But what if relics are how the eldersusethe icons?’
‘Use how?’ Maeve asked.
‘Did you ever connect two tins with a string as a child? You hold one side to your ear, give the other side to someone else, and it magnifies your voice,’ Jude said. She nodded. ‘Maybe it’s like that. The saint is one tin, the icon is the other, and the relic is the string between the two.’
‘That… makes sense,’ Maeve hedged. ‘I have a memory about it, I think. One from years ago.’ Her brows furrowed in concentration. ‘I was maybe sixteen when I saw inside one of Ezra’s relics. My first icon was waiting to be hung in the basilica, and Ezra was meant to bring me to see it put up. When he didn’t show up, I went looking for him.’ She paused, eyes losing focus like it took effort to dredge the memory. ‘I found him in his study. He was bent over something. A relic. He had the centre,the locket portion, open. I saw a glimpse inside it before he closed it. It was small. Hard to make out against the fabric lining. But unmistakable.’
She stopped. Met his eyes. ‘Inside… there was hair. A curl of human hair.’
Horror washed over him. He opened his mouth to reply, unsure what to say, but Elden’s approach froze the words on his tongue. Maeve pulled back, tucking her face away into her scarf as he arrived.
‘I’ve been doing some thinking,’ Elden said. ‘About the inn.’
It took Jude a moment to locate his legs to keep walking, his thoughts still circling what Maeve had told him.A curl of human hair…He shuddered. What did it mean?
‘Our funds aren’t exactly… limitless,’ Elden continued.
Jude narrowed his eyes. He was right, but why bring it up now? Besides, Jude had budgeted enough for a few nights in a decent inn, anyway. Vegetable farming was hardly the most lucrative business, but they had enough for food and lodging for perhaps a week if they were frugal. They weren’t planning on staying nearly that long, but they needed to be prepared for their plans to go awry.
‘I was chatting to some of the pilgrims in that last group,’ Elden said. ‘There’s more coming this time than they expected. Not many rooms left. Not many at all. Prices have gone up, too,’ he said with a blithe smile.
Like a distant, horrifying mirage, Jude saw where Elden was steering the conversation.
‘We can share a room. It’s no problem,’ Maeve chirped. ‘It’ll be a bit unusual, three people together, but I doubt it’ll raise too many eyebrows.’
‘No – it definitely will,’ Jude interrupted, speaking before fully considering where he was going. ‘Especially if we’re posing as pilgrims. Two men and a woman in a single room? People willdefinitelynotice.’
‘Aye,’ Elden said. ‘Jude and I will take one. Maeve, you’ll be in the other.’
‘She shouldn’t be alone,’ Jude quickly replied. Her grip tightened on his arm. ‘It’s not safe, especially with the Abbey so near. We’ll share a room instead.’
‘An unmarried couple sharing a room?’ Elden shook his head. ‘That’d be a scandal, too, no doubt. Unless…’ He tapped his finger on his lip, feigning contemplation. ‘You could always pretend to be married.’
Maeve stiffened. ‘Is that the best idea?’
Her words were like a dip in an icy river. The last thing he wanted was to force her into something she clearly didn’t want. ‘No, no, not at all—’ Jude backtracked. ‘If it makes you uncomfortable, Elden can pose as your husband. Or your father, maybe?’
‘I’m notthatold,’ Elden grumbled. ‘But if that’s the route you prefer, Maeve.’
She didn’t reply. The way she looked at him, it was as though she’d heard every shameful thought he’d agonized over earlier. How much he wanted her, how afraid he was to have her. Something in her face softened. ‘I’d rather share with Jude if it makes no difference.’
He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth.Married.He could do little more than nod.
He needed to keep his wits about him. He couldn’t afford to get distracted, not for his sake or anyone else’s. Whatever brand of dread the prospect of intimacy surfaced in him wasn’t the same as his fear about the Abbey, but he felt its keen sting.
It wasn’t the same, he told himself.Nothingabout it was comparable.
The Abbey had moulded him into something both cowering and devoted; a dog returning to its violent owner again and again, hoping for a gentle touch. Maeve was nothing like that. She’d sought him out for warmth when she’d been cold, lightwhen her world had darkened with the upheaval of her beliefs. She trusted him.
He didn’t want to let her down.
His thoughts dissipated like ink into water as he trudged through the snow. He may not have much in this world, but he still had enough left of himself to give to Maeve, which was exactly what he would do.
40
Maeve
