Constantine stared down at the food. It smelled delicious, but his head pounded, and he kept hearing the gravelly tumble of rocked echoing off the ruin walls in his mind, as if taunting him to return.
A chair scraped and he looked up to find Theodora taking her seat. She glanced up at him, and he noticed that her expression was tense, angry. He hadn’t realized until now that it was how she’d looked when Constantine had first discovered her at Benningsgate, and he hadn’t realized that the look had gradually faded until today.
She picked up a chunk of the bread and dipped it into the stew. “How long will you work in the ruin?” She took a bite.
Constantine thought it best that he follow her example and eat, even if he didn’t feel like it. He needed to preserve his strength for the hard work that yet lay ahead of him. He picked up his own hunk of bread.
“As long as it takes.”
After a long pause, Dori asked, “Have you given up on your cause against Glayer Felsteppe, then?”
Constantine felt his gut clench. “No,” he said levelly. “But I will lay my son to rest properly first. I’ll not be turned from it. And you’ll not question it if you wish my aid.”
He could feel the tension rolling across the table as if it were a prickly tide. He glanced up and saw that Theodora was no longer eating but only staring down at her trencher.
“What is it now, Theodora?” he asked, feeling the spiral of anger begin at the base of his pounding skull.
“Nothing.” She stood from her chair and picked up the half-eaten round, then walked past him. He heard the door open. “I thought you’d be waiting,” she said to someone outside the cottage. “Here you are, then.” The door closed.
“You’re angry with me,” Constantine ventured, “because I’m delaying going to Thurston Hold. You would harangue me on this of all days?”
“I’m not haranguing you in the least. I’ve not said another word about it, have I?”
“No, but you’re still angry,” he repeated. “Is that the only reason why you did what you did today? So that I would feel guilty if I didn’t—”
He hadn’t anticipated the slap she dealt him, although he should have been more familiar with her demeanor by now.
“Your guilt,” she said in a trembling voice through clenched teeth, “is of your own making. Whateverfailuresyou’ve accumulated have nothing to do with me.”
“You really are a brat, aren’t you?” he accused, feeling his rage at her rising, although he couldn’t have explained why.
“A brat now, am I?” Dori accused with wide eyes. “Because I’m not cowing to your every whimful edict? When I was wrapping Patrice’s body, I waskind!”
Constantine stood from the chair. “That was a ruse.”
“My patience is too far past its end for engaging in games, Constantine. Since you’ve come here, I’ve never really known whether you would help me or not. Now you seem content to play at lord again, over your handful of subjects in this”—she looked around the small room—“house.”
“I nursed you from the brink of death.”
“Did that make you feel noble?” She smirked. “I assure you, I was closer to the brink of death before you arrived, and I would have survived had you not.”
“If you don’t need me, why the pout?”
Her gaze was full of daggers. “I supposed it would be much more convenient should you kill Glayer Felsteppe for me.”
“As it was convenient for you to marry him after your father died?”
“Rather more as it was convenient for you to run away to the Holy Land rather than be humiliated by Patrice’s infidelity.”
Constantine raised his hand and Dori stepped toward him. “It’s painful, isn’t it? The truth? Especially when you’re not using it to deprecate yourself like some . . . somemartyr.”
“Shut up, Theodora,” he warned.
“You leftyour family, your home;you leftthe friends who helped save your life. All to serve your own agenda. When all I ever wanted was tokeep what I had.”
“Shut up,” he repeated.
“And now I’m to wait on you as well, until it’s absolutely convenient for you tokeep your word!”
