“I came for you,” she said, an edge of stubborness to her voice. He perked up. It was the first bit of emotion she’d shown. “You’re the reason I’m here. Because you called me.”
He wilted again. “I called you?” he asked, fighting the creeping fear.
She nodded. “Me.”
“I called you? Do you mean when Maria was … ill? In London?”
“Maria died,” she said abruptly.
Specks of light danced before his eyes and he struggled to stay standing. He sat down hard, the pain to his tailbone bringing him back before he could slip into sweet unconsciousness. He thought he wanted answers but now he knew he didn’t. But they kept coming.
“And you called me,” she continued. “I brought her back. I came for you so I’ll stay with you.” She frowned and wrinkled her brow. “I have nowhere else to go.”
“Go home, Maria,” he urged.
She only smiled at him and turned toward the creek. He couldn’t bear to watch her plunge herself into the water and then tear into a raw fish so he turned his back on her in despair. If he could find out how to fix what he’d done… but first he had to find out what he’d done. There was no helping Maria until he gained the knowledge he needed. And yet he couldn’t leave her to fend for herself.
As if she needs me to defend her. He picked his way through the forest, certain an arrow would pierce through him with every step. Sneaking back into Sorin’s small bachelor cottage, he angrily stuffed the few bits of clothing he had into a vegetable sack.
“I’ll keep you hidden until the healer figures out what you did to Latham,” Sorin said. “He’s alive, that’s something. You should stay and learn about your gift. It’s only her they want gone.”
“Not according to that old councilman,” Owen snapped. “And it’s not a gift, it’s a curse. After what happened I’m surprised there aren’t any torches and pitchforks.”
“Don’t let it come to that, Owen,” his cousin warned seriously. “The people here have their reasons for being fearful. You can never imagine how we used to live.”
“But you’re strong. Why can’t anyone fix her? Everyone here is supposedly so strong.”
Sorin shook his head. “And not a single one of us understands what you did to— what happened to Maria. Most of us don’t want to risk finding out. I’d like you to stay, but I have to stand with the majority. She has to go. Especially after that show of violence. What you did can be explained by your ignorance of your powers, but since we don’t understand Maria’s… condition… we have to assume malice on her part.”
Sorin rubbed at his throat reproachfully where Maria’s spells had strangled him. Owen narrowed his eyes at the silent jab at his conscience. He supposed his cousin didn’t think he already felt guilty enough.
“Well, she won’t go without me, so it was nice getting to know you.”
Owen waited, hoping Sorin would change his mind and call a new tribunal, beg him to stay, anything. He only sighed deeply.
“I wish things had been different.” He rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a leather pouch. “It’s not much, but it should get you a fair distance without having to walk.”
Owen’s pride boiled within and he almost refused the money. But after three days in the village the soles of his feet still ached from all the walking he’d done to get there. Between that and Maria’s stash, he might not have to hide in the storage hold for the passage back to England. He took the pouch and nodded his thanks.
“I hope to see you again one day. Under better circumstances,” he said. It was a lie. He really had no hope at all.
Marching down to the creek, he called for Maria to hurry up. She smiled at him and thankfully it was a little less wolfish. Or perhaps he was getting used to her brittle facial movements.
“Leave it,” he said when she leaned over to pick up the day’s fresh catch. “We can buy less smelly food.”
They traipsed silently through the forest, having to work back toward the main gates to get on the road. He was afraid a group of armed men would be on the lookout for them, maybe to hurry them on their way with arrows or worse, seek retribution for what had happened, but when they burst from the trees only a few yards from the gates, there was only the young mother who’d stood up for Maria at the tribunal. She hurried from her spot under a shady tree and handed him a bag filled with bread, cheese and dried meats, and a blanket. Her face was puffy and tear streaked.
“It’s the best I could come up with,” she said apologetically. “But please take it. I’m sorry I couldn’t convince them to let you stay. I’m sure wh-what happened was a mistake. Just a mistake. It looks as if Agathe and Latham will recover, at any rate.” She nervously tried to make eye contact with Maria, even going so far as to swivel her head to the side, but Maria gazed fixedly past her.
“Do you know that for certain?” he asked, looking around. He didn’t want to get hit by any more rocks. It looked like everyone was locked up tight in their homes, shutters closed and locked until the evil was well outside their walls.
She swallowed hard. “They’re both alive. Latham spoke and it seems he’s himself.” Another nervous glance at Maria. He hadn’t turned the villager into whatever Maria was, at least.
“I didn’t mean anything,” he said. “I came here to…” he trailed off at her uncomfortable twitching. He couldn’t admit outright he had no control over himself. It was too humiliating.
“Well, safe travels to you.”
“Thank you,” Owen said, taking the gift. “It was kind of you to stand against everyone like that. I
