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Chapter 103

Author: Rae
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-10-22 13:59:34

Selene asked me to walk with her to the burial ground at dusk, three days after Gideon had pinned his long paper to the armory wall.

She said very little as we left the compound by the east gate. She wore a plain gray cloak and carried a canvas bag over one shoulder, and she walked with the slow, careful stride she'd never entirely lost since the raid, as though every step had to be agreed with in advance. Dessa had taken Wren, and I had not asked what the bag held. I had learned, by now, when
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  • Carrying His Claim   Chapter 115

    By the third week, I had begun to believe I was safe.It was a dangerous belief, and I knew it, even as I let it settle over me like a warm blanket. The cottage had become, by then, almost a home. I had learned the rhythm of its drafts and the moods of its chimney. I knew which floorboards creaked and which stair tread had gone soft. Wren had begun to smile, an astonished, lopsided thing that arrived without warning whenever I leaned over her cradle, and every morning I woke to the sight of her small face turned toward the window and thought, *we've done it.*I had not heard hoofbeats on the path in sixteen days. I had counted.Hobb came on the seventeenth, in the late afternoon, with snow melting on his hat and his weathered face set in lines I had not seen before."Lass," he said, stopping at the gate. He did not come in. "I've done a daft thing."My hands went cold. I set down the washing basin. "What have you done?""Went down to Millbrook market, Tuesday. Bought a bolt of linen a

  • Carrying His Claim   Chapter 114

    She rode into the Ashwood courtyard at dusk on the sixth day, so stiff from the saddle that Marguerite had to help her down, and she asked to see Kieran before she asked for water.Gideon told me afterward that she walked into the study like a woman carrying something heavy across a river. She did not sit. She stood in front of the desk with her cloak still frosted at the hem, and she told them everything, from the Hollow Ash to the black firs to the pale, mild voice saying a matter of tidiness. She told them about Orsik, and the forged letter, and the threat against Aldric's garrison. She told them about the old man at the crossroads who had asked, in a child's voice, who Pell was.When she finished, nobody spoke for a long moment."I'll kill him," Kieran said at last. He said it quietly, and I think that was the frightening part. "Lucan. I'll find him and I'll kill him.""You'll want to," Selene said. "I did, for about an hour. But he is the only reason we know what Orsik plans next

  • Carrying His Claim   Chapter 113

    What happened at the crossroads that night, I know only in pieces.One of Gideon's riders watched the first part from a ridge half a mile off, and described it afterward in a flat, careful voice. Selene told me the rest, repeating what Lucan had told her at dawn, and she stopped twice while telling it to steady her breathing. I have put the pieces together the way I think they fit. I have tried not to make Lucan better than he was, or worse.He rode north for an hour before he stopped.The old drovers' track ran pale beneath the moon, and at its meeting with the northern road stood a shattered milestone and a stand of black firs. It was an unremarkable place. In two years of twice-yearly meetings, Lucan had never once thought of it as sinister. He had thought of it as the place where a good thing was quietly being done.He dismounted, and tied his horse, and waited with his hands folded in his cloak. He told Selene later that he had never felt so old.The man came at midnight on foot,

  • Carrying His Claim   Chapter 112

    The Hollow Ash looked, Selene told me, exactly like a place designed to be forgotten.It squatted at the crossroads under a bare, split oak, a long low building of weathered gray timber with a sagging roof and shutters that had not been painted in a generation. Smoke curled thinly from one chimney. A single lantern hung beside the door. She and Marguerite had reached it at dusk after two days in the saddle, and from the edge of the trees she studied it for a long time, her pulse beating in her throat.She had sent word ahead by an ordinary rider, a single line in her own hand. *I'm ready to talk. Meet me at the Hollow Ash. Come alone, as always. S.* It was the kind of note she would have written to him in any other season of her life. She had not signed any promise in it. She had not lied. She had only left him to read what he wanted."You're certain," Marguerite murmured beside her."No." Selene dismounted. "But I'm going in anyway."Marguerite slipped into the loft above the common

  • Carrying His Claim   Chapter 111

    Selene told me this part herself, much later, sitting across from me with a cup of tea going cold between her hands. She did not dress any of it up. She had spent too long learning what that costs.I have set it down in her words as best I can, because nothing I could have invented would be as honest."I didn't sleep for six days," she said. "Not properly. I'd lie down, and the minute I closed my eyes I'd see the pages nailed to that door, and I'd count them. Garrick. Tam. Alder. Finn. Corin. Isolde. And then Pell. And then your name, over and over, because by then I knew you were gone and I knew why."The hall had emptied by noon on the morning of the pages, she said. Kieran had spoken, and the worst of the shouting had died, but nothing had been settled. People drifted away in clusters, avoiding her eyes. Ilse had walked her back to her room and stood at the door like a sentry. Marguerite had come at dusk and sat on the edge of the bed without speaking, her hands knotted together in

  • Carrying His Claim   Chapter 110

    The cottage was exactly as I had left it, and nothing was as I remembered.I came upon it at dusk on the fifth day, after a long climb through the birch wood with snow beginning to sift down through the bare branches. It stood at the end of a path I'd nearly lost, a low gray shape against the hillside, its slate roof furred with moss, its crooked porch sagging at one corner like a tired old woman leaning on a cane. The gate hung open on its one remaining hinge. The herb bed under the south window was a tangle of frozen stalks.I stood at the edge of the clearing with my daughter against my chest and my legs trembling under me, and for a long moment I could not make myself go any closer. In my memory, this house had always been warm. There had always been smoke curling from the chimney, and the smell of bread, and my grandmother on the porch with her shawl wrapped tight. It had never occurred to me that a house could die."It's all right," I whispered, to Wren, to the empty clearing, t

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