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For such a man, for such a love, it could be no wonder why Helana had waited.
Doing the same wouldn’t have helped Sarya, either. And yet during those horrible months when Sarya had still been trying to understand why Crase had been able to move on so quickly, perhaps it had been inevitable that—in the depths of her grief and pain—she’d settled on the belief that something in herself was lacking. That she hadn’t loved him enough. That she hadn’t been willing to bear any pain to stay with him. And after seeing what others had sacrificed for their loved ones, Crase had known it.
He’d known she wasn’t worthy of his complete and utter devotion. And so her parents must have known, too.
Over time, Sarya had come to a more rational view. Yet a sense of guilt—that every loss was her own fault because she hadn’t done enough, hadn’t loved enough, hadn’t been enough—still lingered. Usually, she could push such thoughts away. Yet it wasn’t so easy when faced with Aven, and the evidence of all that he’d been willing to do.
At least she wasn’t struck with guilt on this day. As Bannin and Ouin went ahead, Sarya followed more slowly with Helana and told her of the bones the demon had left.
“An unwelcome gift, indeed.” Helana’s expression tightened. Her gaze flicked to the hilt of Sarya’s sword, which jutted up over her shoulder. “Where will you hunt for it today?”
“Along the forest road.”
Her brow furrowed. “Across the river from your part of the forest? If it was there last eve, should you not start nearer to your cottage?”
“If this thing came over the Glass Mountains, a river does not contain it. But it’s also so we can leave warning to anyone entering the woods from the north.”
Helana nodded, her gaze on Ouin, who was helping Bannin untie the nannies from the cart. “My brother gave to Ouin last night the task of protecting us so that he wouldn’t be tempted to hunt the demon on his own. Or with his friends.”
Sarya smiled. She’d gleaned as much from the way Bannin had greeted his nephew.
“The young ones in the village all wish to be as my brother is.”
Uncertain how to judge the other woman’s tone, which seemed rather pointed, Sarya only agreed quietly, “He is the best of men.”
“And yet you rejected a courtship? But perhaps it is for the best.” This time there was no mistaking the note of challenge in her voice, or the hardness of her eyes as her gaze raked Sarya from head to toe. “A lucky escape for him.”
As if she’d been punched in the gut, a gasping breath wheezed from Sarya’s chest. She would have called Helana a friend. Not an intimate friend—Sarya had none of those anymore—yet she liked and respected the other woman, and she’d believed that regard was returned. But Helana—who had waited for her husband, and who was so much like her brother—had found her lacking, too.
“Helli!” Bannin snapped.
All the world seemed slow and thick, though the turn of her head was likely quick. Bannin was watching them, a thunderous look upon his face, his furious gaze leveled at his sister.
“Stop. Your. Tongue.”
From nearly the first moment of their acquaintance, Sarya had seen the brother and sister snipe and poke at each other—yet always with affection and tolerance. There’d been many a time when Bannin had told Helana to hush her mouth. But his anger now sounded nothing akin to their usual exchange.
Seeing how taken aback Helana was, it likely wasn’t. Helana left her side even as Bannin stalked toward them, and as brother and sister passed each other, Sarya heard her say to him in defiant tones, “I only wish for your happiness.”
Jaw clenched, Bannin said nothing.
His expression softened as he neared Sarya, green eyes searching her face. “What did she say?”
Had he not heard? He must have only seen her reaction. Just as yesterday, when he’d seen her response to his joke about not waiting for marriage and demanded to know what had hurt her. And Sarya…had blurted out half her history to him.
Yet she could not repeat what Helana had said. Not while being choked by the lump in her throat. As it was, she barely managed a whispered, “Nothing of import.”
His brows drew together. “It was not nothing that—” He broke off, grimaced. His chest rose on a few deep breaths before he said, “I won’t demand an answer. Tell me only if you wish to.”
He’d demanded answers before. But not anymore?
Heart aching, she slipped past him to unharness Foggy from the cart. Then she remained by the stallion, stroking his neck and breathing in his familiar scent, letting his steady presence soothe her tattered emotions—and letting his massive body hide her from sight.
“A captain in the Horse Guards!”
