“For which, I’m certain, the others are grateful.”
She snorts. “It has to be worthy and something that no longer serves you. I think Hefertus gave a finger. I do not know what I shall give. I rather like my fingers.”
“I have a suggestion,” I say, my tone wry. “Why not give up your lies? I would prefer them long behind us.”
She looks at me defiantly. “Only if you offer up your guilt. It chafes me. Surely, after all these years, it chafes you, too.”
I shrug my agreement.
She grabs a book from the shelf at random and without looking at it, slams it on the altar. It is very thin, the cover ragged and torn. A burned hole goes straight through the front cover. Ironic, that her book looks so much like her. She looks a challenge up at me, and without breaking eye contact, I draw my own book from the shelf and thump it on top of hers. I think mine is thick and gold edged.
She snorts, grabs the candle from the floor, and puts it on top of the books.
I open my mouth, but before I can ask her what comes next or if this will even work with the pair of us bending the rules of sacrifice, the platform rocks, and then a faint glow seems to form around it and we begin to drift along the shelves. It’s too dark to gauge how quickly the island moves, but move it does, and I find that against all odds, I am sorry. I will miss that place along the shelves where she bared her heart to me. I should feel guilty for that. But I gave my guilt up.
And now I must show her that the choice we made was worth it all.
“We are of an accord now, Poisoned Saint,” she reminds me as our island docks against the cliff face that had been opposite us before. “We are one. Don’t let them divide us. I think they will try.”
“They don’t kiss like you do,” I tease in a low undertone.
“How do you know?” she asks me, lifting a scandalized eyebrow. “Perhaps that will be the next trial.”
“A kissing contest?” I smirk at the absurdity of it.
“It could happen,” she says lightly.
And I like being teased by the Vagabond. I like it enough that I lean in over her shoulder as we disembark from the island and cross single-file to the cliff and I whisper in her ear.
“If that happens, I shall fail, for I refuse to kiss any but you.”
“Don’t be hasty. Cleft might offer,” she retorts.
But though I narrow my eyes and give her a dark look, my heart is far happier than it has any right to be in this God-forsaken place.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Vagabond Paladin
In all my wanderings over the windswept land, I had not thought to have such a gift as this — of soft kisses and warm eyes wanting to work with me, being one with me in purpose, choosing to take up a burden with me. I stole sidelong glances from time to time as if he might disappear if my eyes left him for too long. This harmony was an uncommonly precious thing.
For his part, Adalbrand met my glances with a small crinkling around his eyes and a very slight half-smile.
“We must try to pretend we are willing to go along with the rest,” he murmured to me. “I fear you are not well versed in pretense.”
“Poverty rarely requires it,” I said in a low voice.
“Chastity requires it almost constantly. I have pretended not to see your charms since the moment I met you.”
“I am sure it has been an easy face to wear,” I said grimly.
I was unused to pretty words and not sure what to do with them. Besides, I had to put aside softness for what was about to come.
Already, I felt the chafe of my conscience. I had sinned. Deliberately. I had added to the creation of a demon. There would be no way to purge myself of such evil without death — either mine or the creature’s that I was creating. It made me feel like I had serrated knives under my skin and every movement made a deeper cut. This was not a time for love.
“Trust me, it has not been easy.” He sounded a little hoarse.
I turned abruptly to face him.
