Razorland Book 3 - Page 60

She held on tight as the man adjusted the sail so the wind would send him back to the isle. Relatively speaking, it didn’t take long for more boatmen to arrive. It was lucky we had relatively little—and none of it heavy—but Edmund and Momma Oaks were skilled crafters, so we’d be comfortable soon enough.

Rosemere hasn’t changed, I thought, as Rex helped me ash.o.r.e. My parents stood nearby, marveling at the beauty of the place. As soon as he got word, the governor came down to welcome us, shaking my hand firmly and expressing pleasure that I’d brought my parents. They seemed awed by the attention, and though I was past the point of savoring it, their enjoyment was reason enough for me not to run off with Fade or go looking for Stone and Thimble.

“How’s Morrow?” I asked when he paused in his polite remarks.

“He’s well, though it was a near thing. I have Doctor Tegan to thank for his life.”

“She’s amazing,” I agreed. “I’m sorry he got hurt. You probably blame me for getting him into trouble, and I’m sorry about that too.”

To my surprise, the elder Morrow laughed. “Not at all. n.o.body has ever been able to prevent James from doing exactly as he pleases, not even me. The only thing I can do is be here when he comes home.”

Momma Oaks aimed a pointed look in my direction. “It seems we have something in common, sir.”

The governor smiled. “So I notice. You’ve an impressive number of bags and boxes for a visit. Have you come to stay?”

“If you’ll have us,” Edmund said.

Before I could respond, he was telling Mr. Morrow about his skill as a cobbler and how fine a seamstress Momma Oaks was. I could’ve hugged the governor when he said, “We can definitely use people of such skill.”

If there was one way to make my parents feel at home, it was by implying they were needed. I listened to them idly, leaning against Fade for warmth, until the governor decided nothing would do but for us to stay as his guests. I declined, preferring to occupy Stone and Thimble’s loft, but Momma Oaks, Edmund, Rex, and Gavin accompanied Mr. Morrow. His family lived in the largest house on the island, so there would be plenty of s.p.a.ce.

Fade and I went along to our friends’ cottage. I rapped on the door, hoping they’d be glad to see me. Thimble’s face lit with pleasure when she answered and she swept me into a tight hug; I wasn’t the only one who had put aside lessons learned down below in favor of better and brighter ones.

“Dare I hope you’ve come to stay?” she asked.

“We have. Not with you,” I added. “At least not forever. But I’d appreciate it if we could board here while we figure out something more permanent.”

Thimble smiled as she stepped back to let us in. “Of course you’re welcome.”

Stone echoed her warm acceptance, and he seemed genuinely glad to see us. We’d all changed so much, but not to the point that we were strangers to one another. That night over dinner, we talked until our throats were hoa.r.s.e, filling in all the gaps and smoothing the rough spots. Robin was adorable, and while Thimble cleaned up from supper, I held him, and Fade caught me smelling the brat’s hair. I ducked my head, conscious of how absurd I likely looked, but his eyes were hot when they lingered.

Later, in the loft, Fade whispered, “I’ve been dying for some time alone with you.”

He’d spoken those words before, more than once, but this time, I knew what he meant. I rolled over and kissed him, then we practiced some more, quietly, and this time, we got it exactly right. Afterward, I traced the scar on his side. Fade shivered at my touch, pressing closer.

“I came so close to losing you,” I murmured.

“You never will.”

I kissed him once and again, counting back all the times he’d kissed me, until I lost track of the numbers. That got him worked up again, so it was a while before we settled. But a quiet doubt trickled into my mind.

“What was that?” Fade had always been good at reading me.

“Is it all right? When I touch you.”

“It’s the best thing in the world.” But that wasn’t what I was asking—and he knew it. So he added, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely fine. And sometimes I have bad dreams. But when you’re near, everything feels better.”

“Then I’ll stay close,” I promised.

Unexpectedly he stirred, digging around in his pack. “I have something for you.”

I sat up, intrigued. “What is it?”

In reply, he produced a shiny silver wire, festooned with sparkling stones, and I lost my breath. “What … when?”

Somehow he interpreted my incoherence correctly. “I bought it after you left. I remembered how much you admired it. I probably should’ve given it to you when Edmund married us in Soldier’s Pond. But I was waiting for the right moment.”

As he fastened it around my wrist, I whispered, “It’s perfect.” And silently vowed never to take the bracelet off.

In the morning, we began our life together.

After breakfast, we strolled through the village hand in hand; I had no particular destination in mind, but when Fade led me past the docks, I realized he did. He didn’t go far, past the last cottages, up a gentle knoll, where the view was incredible. From this vantage, I saw the market, the boats on the river, and the governor’s house on the other side of Rosemere.

“This is where I want to build,” he said. “If you’re willing.”

Since I’d decided where we would live without asking him, it seemed fitting for him to choose the site where we’d raise our home and—if life was kind—grow old together, not as people did down below, but like Edmund and Momma Oaks. My heart swelled with the possibility; we could have years and years here in this beautiful place. It was so much more than I ever could’ve dreamed.

“It’s beautiful. Do we need permission?”

“I already asked.”

I canted my head in surprise. “When?”

“Before you got up this morning. For some reason, you were extra tired.” Fade wore a wicked grin, such pure temptation that I considered pushing him down into the bracken to show him what tired felt like.

But we had work to do first.

As I saw it, there was one benefit to being the Huntress. The way people watched me when we walked back through the village annoyed me, but also meant that volunteers came out in droves to help build our cottage, once we a.s.sembled the materials. With half of Rosemere pitching in, the walls went up fast, then the builders filled in the stones and laid the floors. Stone and Thimble helped, as they’d crafted their cottage, and Thimble had worked out all manner of cunning tricks to make a home snug and cozy.

The only dark cloud came from Tegan. One day, while I was working alongside Fade, she made her way out to the site; she stood watching us with a thoughtful expression. I set down my stone and hurried over to her. In my haste to get our house finished, I hadn’t seen her as much as I’d have liked. I had reckoned there would be plenty of time to visit this winter. But the melancholy in her expression told me that probably wasn’t so.

“You can’t go,” I said quietly. “I can’t say good-bye to you, Tegan. Don’t ask that of me.”

My heart broke a little when I recalled Stalker whispering those words to me, just before I ran into the horde. I thought of him often, amid my happiness, and his death was one of my fiercest regrets. I saw that shadow in Tegan’s face too.

“Deuce,” she whispered. “It’s time for me to keep my promise.”

I knew the one she meant—to Dr. Wilson—and I was supposed to remind her of it, but selfishly I’d hoped she would forget. She didn’t belong in Winterville … or maybe she did, and I just wished she didn’t because I needed her nearby.

“He knows so much, and I want to learn it all. I feel like I have to.”

I understood that impetus, too, but I wished I could convince her that she didn’t have to be anything in particular to be worth saving. Choking up, I reached for her, and she hugged me too tight for long moments. Somehow I managed not to weep into her shoulder. We whispered to each other that it wasn’t forever—we would visit and send letters with the traders as they came and went—but we both knew we had come to the parting of the ways. From this point on, there would be no more adventures, no more wayfaring. She would go to Winterville and become a learned soul while I stayed here on the isle.

“Let me go,” she commanded.

And I did.

I turned around so I didn’t have to watch her leave, then I sank to the ground and cried. Sometimes it felt as if all happiness came at a price. You could never, ever, have perfection. Life gave you beauty so you could bear the pain. At length, I dried my tears because Fade wore his fierce and brooding look, and I never knew how he would react. Tegan wouldn’t thank me if my man charged after her and brought her back because her path was making me sad.

Then I paused my work on the cottage to go to the governor’s manor. One person in Rosemere would share my sorrow in equal measure.

Morrow opened the door when I knocked as if he had been expecting me. His face was thin and pale, newly marked with a red scar. The rest of him seemed sound enough, though he still hadn’t regained his full strength. I gave him my arm as he escorted me to a large room with a crackling fire. When I was working I didn’t notice the nip in the air as much as when I stopped.

“She’s gone,” I said softly.

He lowered his head, the hair falling into his clever face. “I know.”

“How long before you go after her?”

“I’ll give her the winter, long enough to miss me.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” I guessed he hadn’t told her how he felt about her; I could’ve explained why she was so leery of men. But as promised, I had kept Tegan’s secret, and n.o.body knew what she’d suffered in the ruins. With Stalker dead, the truth would die with me.

“Then I’ll come and go until she asks me to stay.” His smile was a sweet and somber thing. “I’m working on your story, you know. It’s keeping me busy during my convalescence. I hope to have a draft ready for you to read by spring.”

I smiled at that. “Fade can read it to me. It’s not my strong suit.”

For a few seconds, I imagined curling up with my man before a fire, listening to Morrow’s words. I couldn’t imagine anything better. We talked a little longer, enough for me to be sure he’d be all right in Tegan’s absence, but the storyteller was stronger than he looked and he had one precious gift that rendered him invincible—eternal hope. Either that, or he was mad, which might explain why he’d followed me.

“I plan to call it the Razorland saga,” he told me.

“Why?”

“Because of something you said when you were telling me about your journey north … about how the world’s all razors that cut you no matter what you do.”

“It isn’t anymore,” I said softly.