“I did do it. But they were murdered by someone else first.”
Cool rain drizzled from clouds so thick, Lux felt compressed beneath them. Drops fell from Shaw’s lashes, where he’d pushed his cap back to better see her.
“Saints above,” he breathed.
“More like the devil below, I should think. But I’ve never been a worshipping sort.”
She watched him swallow. “You think that crow was revived? I thought you were the only one capable of that.”
“I watched the bird swallowed into the heart of the tree. And I watched it today, perched on the bridge. I can’t explain any more than that.” She touched the thin scratches stretched along her cheek and decidedly avoided the deeper one by her eye.
“I’m sorry about your parents.” Shaw moved to her side, and though his hands reached between them, where she struggled to handle the remaining bait, his gaze wouldn’t release hers. It brimmed with understanding.
“It was a long time ago.”
“All the same, I didn’t know. Or didn’t understand. The rumors… You could say they paint a different portrait.”
Lux snorted. “I’ve heard them all by now, I think.” Her expression turned thoughtful as she walked alongside Shaw, farther from Ghadra. She was stunned to discover she wished it wouldn’t end. That they could keep walking endlessly, far away from here. What might it be like? To stay beside someone who understood her.
She wiped rain from her nose. “Do I truly act like I’m sculpted of ice?”
“In the dead of winter.”
She laughed, and Shaw smiled down at her. “Thank you.”
His smile faded to a quizzical frown. “For what? If anything I should apologize for not getting to you sooner.”
“No. Don’t.” She swallowed, unsure how to go on. But he’d asked, and she found that her heart ached to answer. “Sincethe night of their deaths, I struggle to control my thoughts sometimes, and when they spiral out of control as they did… I can’t always find air. My mind is this irrational, uncontrolled nightmare without an escape. But you pulled me back from falling to it entirely this time. I’ve never had someone do that for me before.”
His smile returned, exceptionally brittle. “Knowing my father was down in that prison, witnessing the conditions they kept, and learning of his death, I experienced something of the same. Horrific paintings came into existence during the worst episodes. Art no one should ever experience. But I think it helped me cope.” He cleared his throat. “Lux, if you ever find yourself in that place again, know to find me.”
For the second time that afternoon, and for an entirely different reason, Lux struggled to draw breath. When she wiped her nose again, it was less for the rain, than the tears.
“I’m sorry for the loss of your father.”
Shaw pulled the rope from his shoulder, preparing to craft another snare. His soft “thank you,” floated between them before it was swept greedily into the wood.
They had walked asmuch of the forest’s edge as they’d dared, and now the foul-smelling bag lay empty at Shaw’s feet. Six snares. Lux hoped it would be enough.
Twilight neared, but it no longer brought the same urgency to look out across the bridge, studying the watchful trees. Dread filled her instead. Beginning in her soul, its roots crept throughout her body, and she motioned for Shaw to hurry.
They had used up nearly all the supplies, and so it was with light arms that they turned their backs on the wood, the bridge a distant outline they strode toward. She quickened her pace.
“Lux—”
Lucena.
She broke into a jog.
Lucenaaa.
She ran outright.
“Lux!”
Fog swirled about her boots, and she slipped on the rain-soaked grass. A hand grabbed at her arm, but if it had meant to steady her, it had the opposite effect. She faltered, and then fell, bringing Shaw along with her.
She gaped at him in the tangled aftermath.
