to the experiment or to his quest for power. Who would have thought that the enigmatic, ruthless figure of the vision could be so . . . ordinary?
I was falling asleep as I read. I glanced out the window, wondering if Anluan was in the garden again, but there was no sign of him. A light rain had begun to fall; the grayish green fronds of chamomile and wormwood bowed down under its gentle persistence. I turned my gaze back to the page, where Nechtan set out a dispute over access to a particular grazing area. My eyelids drooped.
I woke with a crick in my neck and an uncomfortable awareness that I had been sleeping with my head pillowed on my arms for quite some time—the light in the library had changed, and my body was aching with cramps. Sitting up, I realized I was no longer alone. Anluan was standing in the doorway to the garden, watching me. Under the scrutiny of those piercing blue eyes, I wilted.This was not a good start.
“You sleep soundly,” he observed.
“I’m sorry. I was awake most of the night. It was cold. And . . .” No, I would not tell him about the flight from Market Cross and the exhaustion that was more than physical. I would not speak of the nightmares. “Thank you for putting it away, Lord Anluan,” I added. “The mirror, I mean.”
“Mm.” He still had his eyes fixed on me.Their look had become wary, puzzled, as if he was trying to work out exactly what sort of creature I was. “Not Lord, just Anluan. We don’t use titles in this household. You’d best get on with your work.”
“Yes, I . . . May I ask you a question, Lord . . . I mean,Anluan?” Did this chieftain really mean me to call him by his given name?
“A question.What question?” His tone was less than encouraging.
“I was told—the others told me, over supper last night—of certain . . . presences, in the woods. I was warned of the same thing down in the settlement, and I thought the folk there were exaggerating, the way people do sometimes, to tell a more entertaining story. But it seems it’s true.”
Anluan regarded me, and all I could read on his uneven features was a profound desire to be somewhere else. After a long pause he said, “You like to talk.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, taken aback.
“You find it easy to talk.”
“Not always.” Cillian used to wait until Ita went out somewhere. He would only hit me in private. I was accustomed to being so frightened that I couldn’t move, let alone speak. I had despised myself for staying mute and frozen as he hurt me, but the little voice inside me, the one screaming No!, had been drowned out by the terrified hammering of my heart. After I told Ita the first time and she wouldn’t believe me, after I learned she was blind to the bruises, I never tried to tell again.“But . . . it would be useful if you could answer some questions for me, since you are the only person here who can read and write. If I’m to make sense of these records . . .” My voice trailed off; his expression was becoming more distant with every word I spoke.
“The task is simple enough,” Anluan said, not moving from his stance by the door. “Sort, read, translate.Your job is unrelated to these tales and rumors.What is your question?”
“It is . . . I . . . you say, tales and rumors .” Tension coiled in my stomach, a familiar sensation. “Is it not true, what the others said about the strange beings in the forest?”
The crooked mouth went into a tight line. I had angered him. I felt myself shrink down, although he had not moved.“What does that matter?” Anluan snapped. “Can you do this work on your own or can’t you?”
I made myself breathe. It’s not Cillian. Be calm. Speak up. “I—I—” My voice was a feeble squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I can do it on my own, yes, though possibly not by the end of summer. If you could help—if . . .” I clutched my hands together; he would think me a halfwit if this was the best I
I was falling asleep as I read. I glanced out the window, wondering if Anluan was in the garden again, but there was no sign of him. A light rain had begun to fall; the grayish green fronds of chamomile and wormwood bowed down under its gentle persistence. I turned my gaze back to the page, where Nechtan set out a dispute over access to a particular grazing area. My eyelids drooped.
I woke with a crick in my neck and an uncomfortable awareness that I had been sleeping with my head pillowed on my arms for quite some time—the light in the library had changed, and my body was aching with cramps. Sitting up, I realized I was no longer alone. Anluan was standing in the doorway to the garden, watching me. Under the scrutiny of those piercing blue eyes, I wilted.This was not a good start.
“You sleep soundly,” he observed.
“I’m sorry. I was awake most of the night. It was cold. And . . .” No, I would not tell him about the flight from Market Cross and the exhaustion that was more than physical. I would not speak of the nightmares. “Thank you for putting it away, Lord Anluan,” I added. “The mirror, I mean.”
“Mm.” He still had his eyes fixed on me.Their look had become wary, puzzled, as if he was trying to work out exactly what sort of creature I was. “Not Lord, just Anluan. We don’t use titles in this household. You’d best get on with your work.”
“Yes, I . . . May I ask you a question, Lord . . . I mean,Anluan?” Did this chieftain really mean me to call him by his given name?
“A question.What question?” His tone was less than encouraging.
“I was told—the others told me, over supper last night—of certain . . . presences, in the woods. I was warned of the same thing down in the settlement, and I thought the folk there were exaggerating, the way people do sometimes, to tell a more entertaining story. But it seems it’s true.”
Anluan regarded me, and all I could read on his uneven features was a profound desire to be somewhere else. After a long pause he said, “You like to talk.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, taken aback.
“You find it easy to talk.”
“Not always.” Cillian used to wait until Ita went out somewhere. He would only hit me in private. I was accustomed to being so frightened that I couldn’t move, let alone speak. I had despised myself for staying mute and frozen as he hurt me, but the little voice inside me, the one screaming No!, had been drowned out by the terrified hammering of my heart. After I told Ita the first time and she wouldn’t believe me, after I learned she was blind to the bruises, I never tried to tell again.“But . . . it would be useful if you could answer some questions for me, since you are the only person here who can read and write. If I’m to make sense of these records . . .” My voice trailed off; his expression was becoming more distant with every word I spoke.
“The task is simple enough,” Anluan said, not moving from his stance by the door. “Sort, read, translate.Your job is unrelated to these tales and rumors.What is your question?”
“It is . . . I . . . you say, tales and rumors .” Tension coiled in my stomach, a familiar sensation. “Is it not true, what the others said about the strange beings in the forest?”
The crooked mouth went into a tight line. I had angered him. I felt myself shrink down, although he had not moved.“What does that matter?” Anluan snapped. “Can you do this work on your own or can’t you?”
I made myself breathe. It’s not Cillian. Be calm. Speak up. “I—I—” My voice was a feeble squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I can do it on my own, yes, though possibly not by the end of summer. If you could help—if . . .” I clutched my hands together; he would think me a halfwit if this was the best I
Similar Books
