by Barb Hendee
“I thought I’d ask you.”
“Truly? You truly won’t mind if we leave now?” she asked.
“I’ll do whatever you prefer.”
She sank down onto the bed. “Oh, Anton, take us home.”
Chapter Seventeen
A day and a half later, the small contingent crossed an open field, and Céline could see Castle Sèone in the distance.
Sitting on the bench of the wagon, Helga had been criticizing Sergeant Bazin’s driving for much of the journey, so Amelie trotted her little black gelding up beside the wagon, pulling Helga’s attention and trying to give poor Bazin some relief.
Before leaving Kimovesk, Anton had procured Johanna a horse, and she now rode beside Rurik. Anton hadn’t even questioned Céline when she told him the young woman needed a new home and position.
The weather was cool, but it wasn’t raining and a break in the clouds overhead let a stream of sunlight through.
Along the journey home, Céline had had a good deal of time to think, and she was troubled by growing concerns that she didn’t have as much control over her ability to see the future as she’d previously believed. During this investigation, the mists had shown her snippets of the futures of Lizbeth and Maddox and not enough to have allowed her to change the course of events.
Worse, when she read Lady Saorise, the mists had shown her scenes from two years in the future and had not shown her the scene of Saorise attempting to murder Anton. After some consideration, Céline thought she now understood why. At the reading, she’d focused all her energy on learning of Saorise’s possible involvement with the deaths of Carlotta and Lord Hamish. The mists had shown her scenes to answer that question . . . scenes that depicted Saorise’s investment in the marriage and thus making it unlikely she was the killer.
Céline had asked a specific question, and the question had been answered. How could she learn to make the mists show her what she most needed to see? This was something she would need to explore in the coming days.
Thankfully, they were almost home.
Anton’s horse drew up beside Céline’s, and Anton looked down at her. Right away, she knew something was wrong.
“Céline,” he began, “we’re almost to Sèone, and we’ve all let some of our manner toward each other . . . slip. I’ve been the worst offender, but once home again, we’ll need to go back to how things were before.”
“You mean I’ll need to call you ‘my lord’ every time I address you in front of someone else?” She tried to sound light but knew she hadn’t fully succeeded. They’d been through a good deal together this past week.
Some of the haunted loneliness came back into his eyes. “Yes.” He looked straight ahead. “I value all that you do for me, and I wish I didn’t need to ask so much of you. I wish . . . I wish . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence.
“I have wishes, too,” she said. “Have you thought about how either of us might attain them?”
“I’ve yet to come up with any answers.” He paused. “Have you?”
“No, but perhaps we’ll figure it out.”
Looking down again, he nodded. “Perhaps we will.”
* * *
There was about an hour of daylight remaining when Amelie and Céline finally walked through the door of their home, the Betony and Beech.
Amelie took in the sight of their familiar surroundings.
Oliver greeted them with a yawn, and then he began rubbing on Céline’s legs. There was a bowl of fresh milk inside the front door.
“I’ll need to send Erin a gift for looking after him,” Céline said.
“Yes,” Amelie answered.
Although she’d been managing to behave like herself for the most part, she had not been able to put Kimovesk behind her, no matter how hard she tried. She still smelled the dank air of Damek’s castle. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Heath lying dead on the floor or she remembered the things she’d seen in his past.
She’d been hoping that walking through the door of her home might help, but it didn’t, or at least not yet.
Céline was watching her.
“Why don’t you go for a walk in the village?” Céline said. “It will do you good to be outside among the market stalls of Sèone again.”
Although Amelie wasn’t sure that would help, at the moment it sounded better than staying here. She didn’t even want to bother changing from this wool dress into her pants—and that was saying something. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“No, of course not. Go and take a walk.”
Turning, Amelie headed back out the door. The weather was fine for autumn, and she turned toward the market.
Then she stopped.
A tall man with a goatee, wearing a tan tabard, was coming down the road toward her. He halted a few paces away.
“Jaromir,” she said.
“I know you just got home, but it’s been the longest week of my life. I’ve seen the prince is safe, and I had to come see you.”
She had no response. He was so open. So honest. She’d missed him.
“I’ve an invitation,” he went on. “A group of minstrels arrived, and they’re performing this evening in the market. The village is all a-twitter. Master Earnshaw at the sweet shop has been making candied apples all day.”
“Candied apples?”
Jaromir tossed a coin in the air and flashed her a grin. “I’ll buy you two.”
Something inside her melted. She knew she had to be cautious around him and she had no intention of becoming another in a long line of his mistresses, but at this moment, there was nothing in the world she’d rather do than go to the Sèone market with him and hear music and eat candied apples.
He held out his arm.
She took it.
Looking for more?
Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.
Discover your next great read!