Page 47 of The Midnight Arrow
“She’s sick,” he murmured.
I straightened. “Sick? With what?”
“An ancient thing,” he said, his eyes opening once more. “And no one can help her. Unless…”
“Unless what?” I asked. “Maybe I can help her. Maybe I can?—”
He sucked in a sharp breath, his wrist jerking between us. Frowning, my brow furrowed, I watched his gaze go to his inner wrist.
Knowing what it was, I pressed my lips together, already feeling a restlessness take hold.
Whatever it was that Lorik saw, his jaw tightened and he looked at me.
“Maybe I can help her,” I said again, feeling desperation claw in my throat. “If I can see her, maybe?—”
“I have to go, Marion,” Lorik replied.
“What?”
“This summons…it’s urgent,” he confessed softly. “I have to go.”
“Now?”
His lips pressed into a hard line, and despite the heat in the bathing tub, I suddenly felt cold. He inclined his head sharply.
“Oh,” I whispered. Then I realized I was sitting on him and scrambled to get off. “Of course. I understand.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. And to his credit, it sounded like it. His jaw was tight, his teeth gritted as he stood from the tub, water sluicing off him.
“Will—will you be back?” I asked.
He must’ve heard the vulnerability in my tone because he said harshly, earnestly, “Of course, Marion. Of course I’ll be back. I just need… I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. But I will be back.”
In my mind, I thought,And how much longer will we be able to keep each other when he is always pulled somewhere else?
Lorik leaned down to press a hard kiss to my lips.
“Wait for me?” he asked against my lips. “Then we can continue this conversation, I promise.”
How long?I wondered.
“All right,” I whispered, looking up at him when he pulled away. “Be careful.”
“I always am, little witch.”
Then he was gone. I heard him dress, I heard the front door to my cottage close. And I was alone again, sitting in the tub that was still hot with his magic.
I was alone again…only this time it felt so much worse.
Nineteen
Market day in Rolara had always been something I’d dreaded. A necessity, though I’d always felt the lingerings of guilt when villagers lined up near my usual stall before I even arrived.
I should enjoy this more,I’d always thought as I’d lugged my cart of potions all the way from the Black Veil into the village. Every month, like clockwork. People depended on my potions. They made their lives better. And itdidmake me content. There was a sense of pride in my work.
But I was no longer the fresh-faced, starry-eyed recruit in the Healers’ Guild as I once had been. I’d hidden myself away after Aysia’s tragic death, unable to take the whispers and pitying looks that followed me everywhere I went. I was comfortable in the Black Veil, comfortable in my solitude with my glowflies and Peek for company.
Every month, as I lugged my cart to the market, there was a sense of duty now. Duty because I was a keeper of glowflies and the keeper of the rarest of them all—shadevines. Duty because I’d taken an oath, bound in magic. Duty because…well, I needed the money to keep my cottage running, to buy any provisions I needed, and to pay the witch for the monthly protection spell.