you weren’t caught unawares at being approached so soon.”
She swallowed. Unawares was barely a fitting description for what she was feeling at this moment. Her insides were all in a knot and she felt feverish.
“Maere?”
“I - I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s just as you said. He did surprise me. I wasn’t expecting anyone so early.”
“Good day to you, then,” the abbess said.
Maere stood still, firmly rooted. Her hearing keen, she listened while the older woman walked away. When she was certain the abbess was gone, she righted the chair and sat down.
Slowly, she unrolled the thin skin. Her face blanched. Her hand flew to her mouth and she cried out. The painted image of her own face stared back at her. Green eyes, dark red hair – even the freckles on her nose were there – just like he’d described to her earlier. In the background were several images: To the right, a dark-haired man, partially obscured. To the left, an older man, gray-haired, wearing a white robe. A fire burned in the foreground. Above her, the full moon, and above that, a raven’s head, its wings sweeping out to serve as a frame for the entire painting. Whether the gesture was protective or possessive, Maere couldn’t be certain.
She let the parchment fall out of her hand. It made a scuffing noise as it hit the floor and rolled back onto itself. She closed her eyes and leaned back wearily. She must be losing her mind. There could simply be no other explanation. What else would explain why a man – someone she’d never met – would come and give her such a drawing? And how did he know of the two men in her dreams? Two men –obviously bent on evil – who no one else could see?
She shook her head. Of course, maybe none of it had happened. Maybe she’d imagined everything. Seelie had never been hurt or raised from the dead with a touch of her hand. There was no evil coming for her, just the lust in her heart, exposed the night before as she slept.
Maere laughed bitterly. None of it mattered, anyway, because one thing was obvious: The devil had tainted her soul and meant to claim her as his own.
Chapter Eight
The sun peeked in through a small tear in the black curtain, then disappeared. It cast a thin ray again that struck Maere straight in the eyes. She squinted and shifted to her left a little. The sun went away only to return a few moments later. It found her again, on her knees, and she moved back to her right. What was this cat and mouse game the light insisted on playing with her? And why did she feel there was an old animosity between her and the sun?
Maere pulled her attention back to her prayers. She’d been praying all night, ever since the strange man had visited the day before, ever since – well, she couldn’t bear to think of what had happened during her dreams. If only she could heal herself as easily as she had healed Seelie.
There was a thought. Perhaps she could do just that. She glanced around the anchorage. The sun seemed to have lost interest in her for the moment and was now focused on the golden citrine necklace hanging on the wall over her mattress. Perhaps there was some logic to this healing idea? Maere sat back on her heels and rubbed her hands together. She spread the idea before her again and looked at each and every word. If only she could heal herself . Why hadn’t the thought occurred to her before? What was it she’d done when Seelie came to her?
Maere pushed her hair off her shoulder and raised her right hand. She placed it carefully over her forehead, covering her eyes. She crossed her left arm over her breast. “Heal,” she whispered. She waited. Nothing happened. “Heal,” she said louder this time. Nothing happened. “I said ‘heal’!” She shouted so loudly she must have frightened the birds away from the tree outside her anchorage, for she could hear them take flight.
Well, that was fine. She could bring her friend back to life but couldn’t dispel her own demons. She
She swallowed. Unawares was barely a fitting description for what she was feeling at this moment. Her insides were all in a knot and she felt feverish.
“Maere?”
“I - I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s just as you said. He did surprise me. I wasn’t expecting anyone so early.”
“Good day to you, then,” the abbess said.
Maere stood still, firmly rooted. Her hearing keen, she listened while the older woman walked away. When she was certain the abbess was gone, she righted the chair and sat down.
Slowly, she unrolled the thin skin. Her face blanched. Her hand flew to her mouth and she cried out. The painted image of her own face stared back at her. Green eyes, dark red hair – even the freckles on her nose were there – just like he’d described to her earlier. In the background were several images: To the right, a dark-haired man, partially obscured. To the left, an older man, gray-haired, wearing a white robe. A fire burned in the foreground. Above her, the full moon, and above that, a raven’s head, its wings sweeping out to serve as a frame for the entire painting. Whether the gesture was protective or possessive, Maere couldn’t be certain.
She let the parchment fall out of her hand. It made a scuffing noise as it hit the floor and rolled back onto itself. She closed her eyes and leaned back wearily. She must be losing her mind. There could simply be no other explanation. What else would explain why a man – someone she’d never met – would come and give her such a drawing? And how did he know of the two men in her dreams? Two men –obviously bent on evil – who no one else could see?
She shook her head. Of course, maybe none of it had happened. Maybe she’d imagined everything. Seelie had never been hurt or raised from the dead with a touch of her hand. There was no evil coming for her, just the lust in her heart, exposed the night before as she slept.
Maere laughed bitterly. None of it mattered, anyway, because one thing was obvious: The devil had tainted her soul and meant to claim her as his own.
Chapter Eight
The sun peeked in through a small tear in the black curtain, then disappeared. It cast a thin ray again that struck Maere straight in the eyes. She squinted and shifted to her left a little. The sun went away only to return a few moments later. It found her again, on her knees, and she moved back to her right. What was this cat and mouse game the light insisted on playing with her? And why did she feel there was an old animosity between her and the sun?
Maere pulled her attention back to her prayers. She’d been praying all night, ever since the strange man had visited the day before, ever since – well, she couldn’t bear to think of what had happened during her dreams. If only she could heal herself as easily as she had healed Seelie.
There was a thought. Perhaps she could do just that. She glanced around the anchorage. The sun seemed to have lost interest in her for the moment and was now focused on the golden citrine necklace hanging on the wall over her mattress. Perhaps there was some logic to this healing idea? Maere sat back on her heels and rubbed her hands together. She spread the idea before her again and looked at each and every word. If only she could heal herself . Why hadn’t the thought occurred to her before? What was it she’d done when Seelie came to her?
Maere pushed her hair off her shoulder and raised her right hand. She placed it carefully over her forehead, covering her eyes. She crossed her left arm over her breast. “Heal,” she whispered. She waited. Nothing happened. “Heal,” she said louder this time. Nothing happened. “I said ‘heal’!” She shouted so loudly she must have frightened the birds away from the tree outside her anchorage, for she could hear them take flight.
Well, that was fine. She could bring her friend back to life but couldn’t dispel her own demons. She
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