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Shivering, I slowly backed away. “Just for a while . . . just till my mother gets herself settled—”
“And when will that be? She’s had you on the run eleven years. Is she showing any signs of getting better? Of finding her way in the world? She’ll keep you with her, a crutch, as long as she can.”
I choked up and waved my hands in the air, trying to make him realize how unreasonable he was being. But even as the words, “You’re talking about my mother!” came out of my mouth, I knew that he was right.
“I can’t promise when, but I will return to you,” I whispered low on the slipstream, and he heard me loud and clear.
“I need to know that I’m not waiting for a promise written on the wind. For a hope that will never come. I’d rather leave the Golden Wood than wait here, knowing I’ll never have you by my side.” He was angry now, and the hurt filled his face, making me feel horrible.
I turned, shaking my head, wanting nothing more but to forget my mother. Forget the streets. My wolf tattoo on my stomach was snarling and I reached down, trying to soothe it. Grieve paused, holding his breath.
I finally shook my head. “I promise I will return to you. But I don’t know when. I have to look out for my mother. I’m all she has.”
“Then go to her. Go to her now. Leave me with my pain.” He tossed the flowers he’d picked for me on the ground at my feet. “Go. Just go.”
“Grieve . . .” My words drifted off as he turned and slowly, head down, walked away from me, not looking back.
As a shadow passed over the wood, I turned and ran.
I should have gone back, talked it through with him, but I was young and afraid to fully trust anyone. I’d learned how dangerous it was, in my short years on this planet. And even though Grieve was standing there, heart on his sleeve, and I wanted to be with him, I knew that now wasn’t the time. I’d never trust him fully at this point—or myself.
Run, but never forget. Never forget him, Cicely. At the right time, you will return and your love for him will be fully grown, mature, ready to make promises.
I hope so, Ulean. I shivered as I left the Golden Wood, my tears so dark they could not fall. It would be nine long years until I saw Grieve again, but I thought of him every day, and grew to understand just what I’d given up.
I closed my eyes and leaned against the shower stall. If only I’d stayed—could I have prevented the massacre out at the barrow? Could I have saved the Court of Rivers and Rushes? Could I have made a difference?
No. Ulean was firm. You could not have stopped Myst, and she might have destroyed you if you had tried. You were not so strong back then. You knew it wasn’t the right time. You did what you needed to.
I shook my head. She was right. In the two years I wandered around alone after Krystal died, I’d grown even stronger, more independent.
Stepping out of the shower, I reached for the towel. When I thought about it, Krystal had, in her own fucked-up way, prepared me for this. She’d taught me to trust only myself, to stand on my own two feet.
I toweled off, wandering around my room. A picture of Heather and Krystal on my desk caught my attention. Doomed sisters, my aunt and my mother. Were Rhiannon and I doomed as well? Were we fated to unhappy ends, to lose our loves, perhaps even our lives?
You are at war. War is never easy, and seldom pretty. Ulean swept around me. Try to stay in the present. Looking forward can do more harm than good, and looking into the past will merely make you melancholy.
You’re right. I will be strong. I won’t let you—or my cousin or Grieve—down . . .
When I finally went downstairs, Rhiannon had left my breakfast on the counter. I could see her outside, sweeping the snow off the back steps.
Kaylin wandered into the room, dressed in camo cargo pants and a black wifebeater. His muscles were tight and defined, and he gave me a long look. “What have you been up to?”
I didn’t feel like talking. For one thing, I wasn’t sure what the hell had happened during my so-called dream. For another, even if I did, Kaylin would tell me what everybody else had: Forget Grieve, let him go and accept that Myst had won. And I couldn’t do that.
“Looks like Rhiannon made breakfast.” I slapped some toast and bacon on a plate, then added a hard-cooked egg and moved to the table.
Kaylin made an egg-and-cheese sandwich and joined me. “I heard about last night.”
Jumpy, I jerked my head up. “Last night?” Had I been making noise?
“Yeah, Lannan and everything. You need to talk?”
“Oh, Lannan. Right.” I was never sure what to think about Kaylin. He was 101 years old, a martial arts expert and computer geek, and he was also a dreamwalker. A night-veil demon had embedded itself into him, body and soul, while he was in the womb and had altered his very DNA. I thought he might be attracted to me, but I wasn’t sure if that was just him trying to be friendly or what. When Kaylin wanted to help, he could ferret out extremely private information.
I swallowed a bite of toast and licked the melted butter off my fingers, then told him about Geoffrey’s offer, and Lannan’s reaction. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be a vampire, so I’m not interested in Geoffrey’s proposition. Nor do I want Lannan thinking he has some proprietary claim over me. I am indentured to the Crimson Court, not to him.”
“You are walking a thin line. Lannan is not your master, but he holds the key to punishing you if you disobey Regina or Geoffrey. And he’s very good about creating infractions where there are none. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but I sure wish you’d insisted on Geoffrey overseeing you.”
