Instead, with a look one could only describe as empathy, she handed over the mug of tea.
“Peppermint and lavender,” she said softly. “I find it helps keep the nightmares at bay.”
I thought to deny the offer, but the simple kindness was a balm on my still-fractured heart, and I took the mug with a silent nod of thanks.
Her gaze locked on mine, she leaned back against the windowsill, the shape of her illuminated by the moonlight.
I closed my eyes and sipped the tea, grateful for the warmth as much as the excuse to look away from her.
“Thank you for the tea,” I finally managed, “but I’ve no need of your company. You may go.”
She shrugged. “Needs and wants aren’t always the same thing. Besides, I’m feeling a little restless tonight too.”
“Yes, well… As you can see, I’ve got plenty of work to…” I gestured at the book I’d left on the table—a collection of hand-drawn maps of the realm—but my weak excuse faded away in a sigh. “Why are you here, Miss Barnes?”
“I just came from the kitchen. I was on my way to my suite when I heard you.”
“And?”
The compassion in her eyes deepened, the weight of it almost unbearable. “And… and maybe I know what it’s like to be haunted by a past you can’t even remember.”
Her words struck a deep chord, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was haunting her. Was it the mother who’d tried to drown her as a child? The sisters she’d never even gotten the opportunity to know?
Something knifed into my chest at the thought, but I dismissed it, chasing it away with another sip of tea.
“Hunted,” I said softly. “I felt as if something were hunting me, not haunting.”
“Is there a difference? Ghosts. Monsters. Memories. All of them can destroy us if we give them the power to.”
“Power isn’t always given away. More often than not, it is stolen from us. Stripped when we’re at our most vulnerable.”
“Then wielded like a weapon, keeping us cowed and fearful—yeah, I’ve seen this episode before.” A heavy sadness touched her eyes, and in that moment, my own evaporated, replaced with a deep anger at the very thought of anyone wielding a weapon against her.
But then, as quickly as it had risen inside me, the anger vanished, hot guilt bubbling in its wake.
In my efforts to save Midnight, to pursue my own needs, I had done just that—taken her power. Wielded it like a weapon against her and her companions both.
Literally and figuratively.
Yet still, she’d come here tonight offering tea and a sympathetic ear.
Shaking my head at the wonder of it, I finally said, “It seems I’ve misjudged you, Miss Barnes.”
“Hmm. You think?” A smile flickered at the edges of her mouth, and something deep inside me stirred, warm and hungry.
Longing.
The witch was getting under my skin in ways I should never have allowed, but it was happening, bit by bit, each night. Each moment, even this one.
When Melantha had first bargained with the Darkwinter witch, I’d been more than curious, more than eager to see how she might be of use. To see whether the summoning and resurrection of the Darkwinter ancestors really could turn our fortunes in this war.
In my mind, she was a means to an end. A weapon the enemy would never be able to defeat, just like I’d told her from the start.
But she wasn’t just a weapon. She was a marvel. She was kind and generous. She was fierce and resourceful. She fought for herself, fought for the people she cared for. I wasn’t certain of her combat skills, or whether she could evenholda sword, much less use it. But she was smart and quick on her feet. And she was powerful. In her presence, I could feel the threads of her magick even through the dampener cuff, the force of a thousand caged birds desperate to break free.
“Miss Barnes, I—”
“Haley,” she said. “You need to call me Haley. Miss Barnes makes me feel like a naughty schoolgirl. Besides, I kind of like how it sounds when you say my name.”
