Page 16 of A Touch of Shadows

It seemed like a lifetime ago since Elodie had last seen the light glinting off the waves. Since she’d arrived at the tower in the midst of the Cellandre Forest and had finally found peace and sanctuary.

She had made it her own. A home for her and the tiny child she brought with her.

She had gone so far as to make a bargain with the old magic in the forest.

She opened the chest she kept locked, hidden up here, and stared at the fragmentary remains of that old, forgotten life. And sank into her memories. Those things she kept shut away from everyday life. And from Wren.

It held almost all the things she had managed to take with her on that fateful night. All of her dearest treasures. All but one.

Elodie opened the chest only when she was certain Wren would not appear. The girl had a way of moving in almost complete silence, even as an infant. She would appear from the shadows, her dark eyes always alert and watchful. There were so many things Elodie didn’t want to have to tell her, not yet. Perhaps not ever.

She loved Wren so much, but the past… the past was dangerous. Secrets needed to be kept. And one would lead to another, and another. Letting one loose would bring all the lies tumbling down.

The locket nestled in the palm of her hand, a golden disc marked with the flames of the Aurum. It had been a gift, a cherished and special gift, and the day he gave it to her was supposed to be the happiest of her life. That was what everyone said anyway. But Roland… Roland had understood. He had always understood. There was no chance of joy in her marriage. There never had been a chance. No matter what she had hoped for.

Elodie bowed her head over it, stroked the surface with her fingertips and slowly, torturing herself with every movement, she opened it.

His face gazed back at her. The portrait was perfect, even in miniature. It captured everything about him, the light in his dark eyes, the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth and his ever unruly hair. She’d painted it herself. So long ago. She’d poured her love into every brushstroke. The locket was just to hold it. The portrait was the treasure.

Her eyes burned with tears, and she closed the locket again. All the same she kept it clenched in her hand and tried to control her emotions. And failed.

It didn’t matter. The pain never really faded. She’d spent more years away from him than she had with him. Her whole adult life. And the pain never faded.

But once upon a time he had been her every joy, her dearest friend, her secret love.

Until her actual life made that impossible. Because that was always going to happen. She’d been a fool to think otherwise. They had both been fools. But oh, it had been nice to dream, if just for a little while.

She’d only been a girl herself. And now… well, it wasn’t like she was ancient. She wasn’t even forty.

Elodie never willingly drew attention to herself. She knew better than that. The wrong word to the wrong person, the wrong connection… everything would fall apart.

She’d have to do something about Pol Turner. She had been telling herself that for some time but she’d hoped his marriage would sort him out. More fool her. It just made him even more vindictive. He wanted far more than he was ever going to get out of life, thought himself entitled by his strength, good looks and frankly only adequate skills. He thought he could have a wife and child on one hand, and… what? A hedge witch as a plaything. No, never. Especially not her Wren.

Farringdale wasn’t far enough away for her, and the sooner they left the better.

Roland would have beaten him black and blue as a lesson. No, Roland would never have let the self-aggrandising little prick get anywhere near the girl. Elodie should have been more like him. If Roland had been here… One look was all it would take. Her Paladin, her champion, her knight-at-arms, her… her friend. And her lover. He’d know what to do.

She had been as smitten with Roland as Wren was with Pol, once upon a time.

Holy light, she’d been a fool.

Her tears felt hot against her skin and she carefully kissed the locket, ready to put it away again, to seal up her past and close it all back up in the chest. Hidden, safe, but never forgotten. Not by her.

A sudden sensation like a thin blade digging deep in her sternum jolted Elodie’s attention to the here and now.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

The wards she had long ago woven through the forest were a part of her and she knew the moment they were breached. The old magic warned her. Pushing back from the chest, she got to her feet and made for the window. All around her the trees were still. Nothing was within sight of the tower. She checked the other quadrants, a window at each side, but there was nothing at all. The forest stretched out around her in all directions and?—

A thin line of smoke streaked the sky to the north. Cursing, she grabbed the telescope and swung it around to get a better view. Thirbridge, it had to be. There was nothing else in that direction until the border, which meant…

Elodie heaved in a breath and turned back to the table in the middle of the chamber. The old clay dish in the middle didn’t look like anything, the kind of thing to serve a communal meal or fill with fruit, perhaps. She took the water jug and poured the contents into the bowl, filling it right up to the edge. Leaning on the table, her arms braced to support her, she stared into it and forced her mind to clear. To go elsewhere, to the wards, to the edge of the trees, to Wren…

Her heart slammed against the inside of her chest as the water swirled and her own face stared back, frustration marking lines on her brow.

‘Show me!’ she said, impatient and afraid.

For a moment the world resisted and she pushed harder. Magic was second nature to her and always had been. It wove around her, threaded through her life. It would do what she wanted. It had to.