“You think I should abandon my blind mother in Toam?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said quietly. “But it’s a choice you made, to stay there. To take care of your mother even if life would be easier for you if you left. It’s a choice that speaks well of you.”
Warmth blossomed in her chest at even that small crumb of approval. She was annoyed at herself. His opinion didn’t matter.
“I do agree with Tilly on one thing,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“You don’t belong in that village.” He sifted his fingers through her hair. She would have shoved his hand away if it hadn’t felt so good. “Any other beds she’s tried to shove you into?”
There was an edge to his voice despite the quiet tone.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this.”
He laughed, low and deep. “I thought we were breaking rules, angel. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve.”
“I don’t lose my nerve,” she told him. “I’m brave, remember? Brave enough for the high seas. And clever enough to start a business. And pretty under all the dirt and cursing.”
“I still owe you a dress.”
“And a husband,” she said just to see what he’d say.
He didn’t say anything right away, but she could hear the hiss of his breath as he exhaled. “I’m not shoving you into anyone’s bed.”
“Good.”
She wouldn’t let herself be shoved. When she did finally sleep with someone, it would be someone she picked out for herself. She was curious about the whole thing. It had to be good, didn’t it? People did crazy things for even a taste. But she’d never come across anyone she wanted in that way. The witch hunter was the first, and what did that say about her? The man who’d branded her mother. It had to be some sort of strange perversion that made him so attractive despite their history. They were tied together because of it. And there was strong emotion there. Maybe that was it, pulling her toward him despite herself. It was like playing with fire. Like those moths. An irresistible tug toward something you knew was going to hurt.
Except would it hurt to sleep with Casrian?
She thought about the way he moved when he was fighting. The way he was holding her now. She thought sleeping with Casrian would probably be amazing. It would only hurt later when they stepped out of the woods and back into the real world, leaving this strange truce behind.
The rain eased as the darkness closed around them. The temperature dropped and she shivered. He tucked her in closer against him.
“Get some sleep,” he murmured, his breath stirring her hair. “I’ll take first watch and you can have second. Maybe by then we can have a fire.”
She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, what with the swamp so close and snakes on her mind. With the cold and the damp. But Casrian’s steady heartbeat was like a lullaby. The warmth of his body sank right into her as she listened to the rain and the storm. He stroked her back, loosening her stiff muscles.
He was a witch hunter.
She shouldn’t feel safe in his arms. She knew she shouldn’t. It was maybe the most dangerous place for her to be. But still she slept.
22
Rowan stared into the dark. She listened to water drip off the trees and watched the tattered clouds split apart to reveal swathes of glittering stars. Casrian had woken her at midnight for her watch. The rain had stopped by then, and she started a small fire.
She tried not to watch Casrian sleep. He took up too much of her attention as it was without her noticing that he looked younger without his brows drawn together in disapproval or admiring how the firelight touched his skin. Looking at him now, it was impossible not to see the boy he’d once been. He was a noble. An orphan. A bastard.
Well, she’d been right about the last one, anyway.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes and stretched out her mind toward the trees. An alien awareness acknowledged her with the barest brush against her consciousness. She accepted that as an invitation to sink deeper into the connection, slipping past branches and sliding down the trunk of the nearest willow into the buried roots. In her mind’s eye, she saw the network of threads that connected one tree to the next in a glowing, tangled web. The willows seemed uncorrupted by the rot. At least, theyfelt fine to her, but they were flighty, unserious things, drunk on the rich swamp water nearby.
They’d already forgotten about the storm that had passed only hours ago, let alone the days before. She stretched outward, leaving the small copse and moving deeper into the woods, searching for signs of the captain’s missing men.
She found a stand of pine trees to the east that remembered a group of men passing that way. Pine trees had good memories, but they weren’t as talkative as the willows. She caught only the barest of impressions, too indistinct to know whether they were the captain’s men or someone else. Occasionally there were merchants or brigands that passed through the woods. The pines told her of metal and fire and the stomp of horses’ hooves through the soil. She followed that path farther east, stopping where the threads dimmed into something she didn’t like. She withdrew and adjusted course, reaching until she recognized the familiar warmth of an old oak. Oaks grew tall and burrowed deep. They had always seemed more aware to her than other trees. This one remembered a group of men as well. A small group that had passed below its branches only days ago. They’d moved away from the river, into the hills to the east, probably in an attempt to escape the woods. Away from the fort.
She didn’t dare reach farther. The oak warned her against that, almost gently pulling her back from the threads that led deeper into the woods. It spoke of the spreading darkness that way. Of damp and black rot and devouring insects. Rowan silently thanked the old mother for her help before returning the way she’d come.
