AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He breathed. Already his color returned, a dusky golden bronze where he’d recently been fish-belly white. But had it been their healing that had done it? For the merest fraction of a moment, she’d almost thought . . .
“That is life, Sabrina.” Sister Ainnir sagged into a chair, her face as waxen as the dripping tapers behind them. “Annwn will have to wait for this one.”
Sabrina’s feeling of not-quite-rightness disappeared in the afterglow that always followed a success. This man had arrived at the convent unresponsive, given up for dead. And through her efforts he held to life. Her skills had saved him. This was something she, Sabrina, was good at. A prowess no lack of wealth or beauty or elegant Society airs could diminish.
She pulled the blanket up over the stranger. Let her eyes loiter for a moment over the harsh angles and grim lines of his face. Even asleep he looked prepared to do murder. Lips pressed in a thin slash of anger. Jaw clamped.
What misfortunes had landed him on a rocky beach, lungs full of ocean?
His emotions spoke of violence and combat. His body bore this out. The hardened muscles, the web of scarring, the frightening intensity of expression.
She pushed against his mind, barely connecting. A mere glancing caress. Hoping to transmit peace, safety, the warmth of a soft bed, the security of a quiet room. Yet even that lightest of touches brought back a ricochet pound of emotions. No more the cyclone’s angry devastation. Instead there was grief and torment and a crushing anguish that stung her eyes with hot, unbidden tears.
She gasped, falling back into herself with a swipe of her sleeve over her burning cheeks. Forced her gaze and mind away from him, though she felt his knifing presence at her back, the looming silence of him like an approaching line of thunderheads in a yellow sky.
And yes, she read far too many novels if she was spinning such melodramatic notions from a half-drowned pirate.
She shook off her fancy to focus on Sister Ainnir, who returned her gaze with one of dazed exhaustion. Good heavens. Here she was dream-spinning when she should have been concerning herself with Sister Ainnir.
They’d been here for hours, dinner come and gone. Afternoon’s heavy dusk deepening to night. Had it been too much for the aged priestess? Had she offered more of her strength than she could easily give?
“Let me help you back to your quarters.” Sabrina offered the old woman an arm to lean against as she struggled to her feet.
“And the gentleman?” Sister Ainnir sighed. “Perhaps one of us should remain.”
“It’s my night to stay,” Sabrina said, glancing back at the stranger with an unconscious shudder and, no, it was not excitement. “Sister Noreen is here now. I can have you settled and be back before she goes off duty.”
“Then I accept your assistance with gratitude. This old body isn’t as spry as it once was. And I’ve found I enjoy my bed far more than I used to.”
The two of them made their painfully slow way through the passage into the main ward. “You’ve a great gift, my child,” Sister Ainnir said. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
The earlier bitterness resurfaced now that the emergency had passed. “Sister Brigh doesn’t think so. I’m a grown woman, yet she treats me like a child.”
Sister Ainnir paused, turning to face Sabrina. “Sister Brigh fears anything that would topple the delicate balance of the world we Other have created for ourselves. She believes our survival lies in remaining apart from the Duinedon. Not bringing attention to ourselves. Your family—your father—believed just the opposite. Rightly or wrongly, in her mind, that makes you a threat.”
“If that’s the case, how will I ever get her to see past my father’s sins? She’ll never agree to my taking final rites.”
Sister Ainnir started walking, drawing Sabrina after. “Brigh is not the only one w
ho matters in such things. You’ve many allies within the community who recognize your potential.” She chuckled. “Look around you. Don’t think I don’t know who it is who keeps this place running. I’m too old for wrestling death.”
“You’re not old, Sister,” Sabrina countered diplomatically.
“And you’re a horrid liar, young lady. I know exactly how old I am. I feel every year, especially on nights like this. No, it’s up to you to take over here.”
Up to her? Was Sister Ainnir saying what Sabrina thought she was saying? “I’m not a full priestess yet.”
“Not yet, but who could deny your readiness after tonight’s work?”
She was saying what she thought she was saying. Joy bubbled up through Sabrina’s chest. She clamped on the whoop that threatened to spill out of her. A whoop was not an appropriate reaction for a dignified bandraoi priestess. Besides, she could heal the sick, raise the dead, and cure the common cold and Sister Brigh would still find a reason to hold up the final rites. Probably accuse Sabrina of showing off on top of all her other crimes.
Leaving the ward, they crossed through the hall and out into the night, the wind tugging at their skirts, clouds scudding silver-edged across the sky. A moon shining high and pale above, reflected in the scummy puddles of the courtyard.
“You possess an innate talent and have learned to use it as well as any fully promoted infirmarian.” Sister Ainnir’s words trembled thin and strained in the damp cold. “What can Ard-siúr say to that?”
“She can say, ‘Thank you very much, but don’t count on it.’ I’m a Douglas, remember?”
“Aye, I do. And that in itself should seal your destiny as bandraoi. For the Douglases have all been known to bear a Fey strength above the ordinary.”
