*
Eleanor was just setting out for an early morning run when she saw a light already flickering in Daniel’s window. She ducked inside the apothecary building and pushed open the door to his room.
“You’re up early,” she said. Then, noticing that he was dressed for the cold of a late-autumn morning, “Are you going somewhere?”
“I need to visit the Meadow Isles,” he said.
There was a map of the archipelago pinned to his wall, and it took her a moment to find the chain of low, grassy islands in the south. “That’s not a short trip.”
“No. The supply boat leaves with the tide, I may be gone for a few weeks.”
“Were you planning to tell me?”
“You did not feel the need to tell me you were seeing your Venncastle friends again.”
“And by ‘Venncastle friends’ you mean Raf, of course. I wish you two could at least try to get on. You might actually like him.”
“I think not.”
She wondered vaguely whether another argument about Venncastle would be enough to persuade him to fall out of love again. And it should be easy enough to push him into a fight – they’d certainly argued about it enough in the past. Instead, she changed the subject: “Anyway, what’s it about? What suddenly needs your attention down there?”
“The islanders report a new cultivar of yarrow. It may be nothing, but I suspect there is truth in it.”
“Yarrow?”
“Woundwort,” he translated, and she nodded her understanding.
“So...?”
“They say this is stronger, and if so, there are some things I would like to try. You would not be interested in the details.”
“Okay.” His natural reticence frustrated her but in this case it was probably true: apothecary had always bored her. “I’m sure you won’t be able to resist telling me all about it when you get back.”
“If it comes to anything.” He picked up his travel bag, the same one he’d been living out of for the past few months. “Anyway. I must go if I am not to miss the tide.”
“Have a good trip.”
“I will.”
She watched him stride away, and wondered what sort of games her mind was playing with her. She didn’t even want to be in this relationship, but it irked her that he’d been about to sneak off without even saying goodbye. She slammed his door shut and started running again. There was nothing as good as a furious sprint for clearing the thoughts.
Revolution (Chronicles of Charanthe #2) Page 16