disappointment. “Child, child. You don't know what you are saying.”
Kit couldn't stop the tears from falling. “I do! I understand what it means, but I can't live without him.”
“Come with me.”
Kit stood up, struggling to control her emotions. She followed her grandmother into the garden, to a bright yellow bush with clusters of tiny pink berries. The old woman plucked a berry and held it up to her mouth for a moment. Then she offered it to Kit. “Eat this.”
Kit looked at the fruit. “Why?”
“You wish to have a future with this human man?”
“Yes.”
“Then taste that life before you choose.”
Kit accepted the berry, which was firm with a velvety skin. Looking to her grandmother, she placed it in her mouth and bit down. The cool juice splashed on her tongue, and then her mind exploded as she was deluged by waves of colors and sounds more complex and beautiful than anything she'd ever known before. They surrounded her and lifted her up to the gleaming sky.
Kit blinked. She stood in a dim hallway. Faint rays of light filtered through the lattice of a high window, casting silver diamonds on the hardwood floor. She looked down to see that she was clothed in a long dress. It was stylish and sleek, though with a higher neckline than she usually wore, but it was somber black with no adornment. She started to concentrate to change the color and shorten the skirt, but then realized she was wearing shoes-stiff, leather things-and she could feel the floor. She was solid again!
Excited and anxious and afraid all at the same time, Kit looked around. Where was she? The hallway gave few clues. There was a door a few steps away, but before she could approach it, a young woman in a simple black smock came around a corner with a steaming cup on a fine porcelain saucer.
“Your tea, madam,” the young woman said as she held out the cup.
Kit started to reach for it-she'd never had human tea before-but something didn't feel right. Her stomach hurt fiercely as if it had been beaten with a stick, and a sour taste rose in the back of her throat. “No,” she said. “Where am-?”
The door opened, and a man in a long black coat exited. He carried a leather satchel and a straight walking cane. “He's resting now. I gave him a tonic of figwort and comfrey root for the pain, but it's only a matter of time. In fact, it's a miracle he's lasted this long. I'll send my man around tomorrow to settle accounts.”
Kit didn't understand anything the man said, but the girl in the smock said, “This way, Doctor.”
Kit watched them go. Then she leaned toward the door, which stood ajar. Inside was a lofty room. The decor was rather opulent, like some of the rooms she used to spy out back in Othir's mansions when Caim was working. Coffered ceiling, wooden chests against the walls, a tall wardrobe and dresser, and a cheval mirror set in a bright brass frame. And, of course, the bed, which was huge, big enough to sleep three or four people, but there was only one person in it now.
Kit went inside for a better look. Still unsure where she was, or how she had gotten here, she moved around to the side of the bed. The occupant was an old man. His silver hair was full, but cropped close to the scalp. His face was creased with deep lines like old leather. Kit leaned closer, and the breath caught in her throat as she recognized a resemblance through the drooping, wrinkled flesh. She swallowed, afraid to speak.
He opened his eyes. “Kit?”
Through the hoarseness and the straining, she could hear his old voice, the voice she'd loved for so long. “I'm here, Caim. How did this-?”
Kit stopped talking as she reached for him and saw her own hands. Instead of smooth and elegant, they were withered, the skin along the backs sunken to where she could see the bones. A large brown spot covered the knob of her left wrist. She pulled the hands-her hands-back and tried to hide them in the laced sleeves of her dress. “Caim, what's happened? You're so old, and I'm…”
She turned to the glass, the movement slow and stiff. The face that looked back at her was ancient. Her violet eyes were hidden within deep pockets of wrinkles. “I'm horrid!”
“No.” He coughed. “No, my love. You're as beautiful as the first time I saw you.”
Kit sat on the bed and touched his arm. The firm muscles she'd once fantasized about, wanting to hold her, were shrunken to thin cables. “How did we get so old, Caim? I'm a mud-woman now, but I don't remember how I got this way.”
He shook his head. “I'm sorry. I know I promised to never leave you, but I don't know…”
His eyes closed as his voice drifted off.
“Mistress?” The girl had returned. She stood at the door. “Can I get you anything?”
Kit shook her head and looked back to Caim, resolved to wake him for some answers, but he exhaled a long, quiet breath before she could shake him. His chest seemed to shrink in upon itself, falling lower and lower. She waited for it to rise again. One heartbeat extended into a second, but his chest did not move. Kit clamped her teeth shut to hold back the wail that clawed up her throat. The room grew dimmer as the walls closed in around her.
The sun was in the same place in the sky when Kit returned to her grandmother's retreat. The flowers of the garden swayed to the breeze, surrounding her in a thousand heady scents that all smelled of ashes. She looked for her grandmother and heard the door to the cottage close. Tears welled up in her eyes, but they did not spill.
Kit walked back down the stony path to the water's edge. Standing in the sand, she thought about what she'd seen. Was it the future, or just a nightmare? A gust of wind blew through her hair. Small waves capped in white foam scudded across the water's surface as Kit pondered her destiny and the man she loved.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Caim groaned as he rolled over. The return journey from Othir had been rougher than he expected. He hurt all over.
Blinking up at the soot-black sky, Caim pushed aside his stiff blanket and sat up. Freezing rain encrusted the ground. Dray, bleary-eyed and slack-jawed, sat beside the campfire from which rose a few tendrils of smoke. Caim scooted closer to the warmth of the coals. “Do we have any more wood?”
Dray shook his head. “That's the last of it. And I doubt you'll find much dry timber around today. Been raining since midnight.”
Caim rubbed his hands together. A cold breakfast was the least of his worries. Josey was somewhere on her way north, to find him, of all things. From what Hubert said, she'd been through a lot since her ascension to the throne. Would he even recognize her anymore?
And then there was Kit. He'd been cruel last night. He wished he could say it was an isolated incident, but he'd been distracted for weeks, not giving her the attention he knew she wanted. Things had changed between them during their time in Eregoth. He needed to acknowledge that and make things right between them.
Caim studied the terrain to the north. The tugging in his head was strong this morning, as strong as it had ever been. And it had a strange texture, too. The droning buzz had changed to an insistent whine behind his ears. Why was that?
As he tried to figure it out, the others crawled from their blankets. They ate as they packed up the meager camp. Caim went to Egil and pointed in the direction of the pulling. “Keep us heading in that direction.”
The guide scratched his beard, which was flecked with small pieces of ice. “As you say, but the farther north we go, the better the chance we'll be seen. The Bear tribe is thick all through this region.”
“I understand. Do the best you can to keep us out of their way. Unless you'd rather head back. You didn't sign up for this.”
“Nah. This is a good-paying job. Anyway, I'd feel bad if you got lost up here and froze yourselves to death.”
Caim smiled, though it made his cheeks ache. As they headed out single-file after the guide, Caim stayed to
