She looked at the book and nodded.
“Could that beS? A lot of words that end inTalso end inS-T.”
Lord, she wished she knew how to read. She could sound words out, but this was an entirely different matter.
“Cost. Rest. Must. Test,” Marcus mused.
She knew he was guessing, but it made sense. It was better than nothing. She wrote downSin place of all theY’s. She sat back and stared at what they had. “To.” It was the only word they had deciphered. Maybe.
Marcus grinned, satisfied and proud.
Sage smiled at him. He was still very close to her. Their arms touched, and she felt the heat of his shoulder muscles. And she didn’t mind. She liked the way he smelled and the touch and sight of his body. Oh, this was bad. Very bad.
“See this? It’s a four-letter word and a five-letter word. Could it be last to first?” Marcus asked, indicating the words.
Sage stared at the letters. He was guessing again, but it was better than not trying. She wrote “last” and then “ferst.”
“It’s f-i-r-s-t,” Marcus corrected her spelling.
“Oh.” Sage altered the letters. She had sounded the word out. She couldn’t help that it sounded how she wrote it. She began to write in “‘last”‘ below the first line, in place of the letters.
Marcus stopped her. “Do one letter at a time. Just in case it doesn’t work.”
She did. The words still all looked foreign to her. She couldn’t sound anything out. There were too many letters missing. It made no sense to her. Her mind struggled to solve the puzzle.
Marcus mused, “T,A, blank,L. What could that word be?”
Sage began to work through the alphabet, plugging in letters and saying them in her mind. “Table?”
Marcus looked at her with a frown of suspicion. “Your spelling is atrocious.”
She shrugged. “It’s not one of my strong points.”
His eyes narrowed. “How can you decipher this code if you can’t spell?” He straightened. “You do know how to read...don’t you?”
Dread sliced through her. “Of course,” she lied instinctively, feigning indignation. “How could I figure this out if I can’t read?”
“That was the third word you’ve spelled wrong.”
Frustrated because he was right and he had seen through her defenses, Sage gathered the parchment and folded it together. Reading had always been her weakness. The one thing she wanted more than anything. It just was not viewed as important to the way her family lived. Not as important as sword fighting, or lock picking, or hunting. She shoved the parchment into the book and rose, embarrassed and angry. “So, I am not a perfect speller. That doesn’t mean I can’t read.” Even though she couldn’t.
Marcus stood quickly, holding his hands out in supplication before him. “Sage, I didn’t mean to insult you. I just think decoding is more difficult if you can’t read.”
“You don’t need to read to decode.”
“But...you do.”
Incensed and hurt that her secret was so apparent, and that he had figured it out, she lifted her chin and whirled, marching away toward the tree where the horse was tethered. She would escape tonight. What difference did it make if he knew she couldn’t read?
“Sage!” Marcus called.
She sat down with a harrumph and crossed her arms, closing off communication. Imagine! Him accusing her of not being able to read. How humiliating. How embarrassing. How correct.
She and Marcus had been making progress on the black book. Then, he had accused her of not being able to read. Of course, he was right. She couldn’t read. She could only read two-letter words—and what good was that? She could sound some of the others out. Usually. Apparently, not well enough to fool him or to decode the book.
Upset and ashamed, she refused to look at him. She had always wanted to read. It had been a fierce desire inside her to know why. And books gave answers. And knowledge. She had begged her father to find someone to teach her, but it wasn’t important to him. She always felt like an outcast among her family because she thought learning to readwasimportant. She always felt Willow and Raven were laughing at her for her desire to read.
Oh, what was the use? Marcus was right! He had kidnapped someone to decode the book who couldn’t even read. She rose, frustrated. “So, I can’t read. What difference does that make? I can sword fight. I can pick any lock you give me. I can figure out any puzzle.” She held the book out to him. “Like this book. It doesn’t matter if I can’t read. I can sound words out. And I can certainly decode this book.”
