When the dim turned to true dark, Edgard reached to light a lantern hanging on the cart’s side, a pole sliding upward to illuminate above their heads as well as the beast’s path lest he stumble.
“I don’t know that somebody else gets to decide that,” Edgard reminded her, his tone still pleasant. “Not even you.”
She was fairly certain Grimult had felt just the same, and the thought brought all the sadness she had endured but mixed with it such a fond warmth that she could not speak for a moment. She had known she loved him—how could she not? But part of that love was wanting the best for him, even if it meant she had to lose him in the process.
But Edgard made a good point. Grimult was free to make his own choices as well, and she could not do that for him.
If he wanted to return home and ignore her suggestions, to forsake all others and cling to her memory instead, that was his prerogative. Even if it made her want to take him in her arms and inform him that he was a sweet, foolish man that should take what happiness he could find, not waste away over what could not have been.
It was disheartening how long they travelled in the cart. She had known that her place would have been one of seclusion, but despite her determination that she would keep careful appraisal of their direction, she found herself suddenly bolting awake when the cart lurched to a final halt.
She wiped at her eyes, looking about her for some sense of her surroundings, and Edgard glanced at her, amusement mingling with concern. “You’re all right,” he assured her. “Got you home, didn’t I? Just like I said.”
Home? Is that what this was supposed to be? She shivered, wanting to bury herself beneath the quilt, but made herself take it away from its place draped across her legs and fold it neatly.
“You are a fine driver,” she complimented, hoping down from the cart with as much grace as her tired legs could muster. “I thank you for it.”
He waved away her gratitude and she could see him frowning at the dwelling. It was old, of that she was certain. The stones were more roughly hewn, as if the masons had begun with this before more finely honing their skills with the creations in the main village. There was no light from within, and she braced herself for a cold, lonely welcome.
“Feels wrong to leave like this.” Edgard commented, still seated in the cart. “Should at least get a fire going, but they’re all adamant that I not go inside.” He finally glanced toward Penryn, and she took a careful breath. A part of her longed to usher him inside, to have a moment of company, but the other was well versed in helping others maintain the strict codes that surrounded her care.
“I know how to make a fire,” she assured him, hoping that the proper supplies were nestled within, otherwise it would be a cold and dangerous trek through the woods that surrounded them trying to find tinder and kindling, let alone logs. “But I thank you for the offer all the same.”
He nodded to himself, but still did not look satisfied. “They’ll have been sprucing it up, I’m sure, since you came. Getting it cleaned and stocked with all you might be needing.”
Penryn smoothed her hands down her skirt and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shiver. “Then I will rest well tonight,” she assured him, finding it a little odd but strangely touching that she should need to do so at all.
He adjusted his grip on the reins and nodded once more. “Right. Get out of the cold, miss. Ain’t good for you.”
And with that he clicked his tongue and the horse turned the cart about, and Penryn moved quickly to the door, wondering at the latch and how she would manage to get inside without the light the cart provided. “Don’t you worry, I’ll wait here until you’re in. Just give a wave and I’ll be off.”
Relief spread through her, although the familiar feeling of being watched was not a pleasant one. Her anxiousness made the task far more difficult than it should have been, the door itself yielding easily when she pressed her thumb down on a small catch on the handle, the hinges well-oiled as it swung open without a sound. She could not make out a great deal of the residence itself, not with how dark it was, the light from the stars and moon heavily obstructed by the boughs overhead, and she almost despaired of it when she caught the outline of a small lamp near the door, the flint and stone nestled beside, waiting.
Her lamp lit, she waved from the doorway, ensuring there was a smile for Edgard to take back with him.
He gave a nod, and she stood until the cart was out of sight, feeling an emptiness settle over her at the heavy weight of just how alone she was, nestled in a forest that was not hers, in a dwelling that was wholly unfamiliar.
But standing, looking out at the inky blackness would not help her, and she shivered again as the night air tickled at her cheeks and tried to pervade through the heavy fabric of her dress.
She retreated inside, shutting the door behind her, her eyes settling on
