“And no one else was there? No one real?”
“No. Only them… those creatures.”
“There were more than one?”
“Oh yes. I swear it.”
“First you, then Oliver, and now Mr. Carter,” Clemmie said with a worried voice.
“Legend says they hunt for the guilty, and perhaps that is why I’m still here. I simply don’t carry any significant sin. I certainly haven’t betrayed anyone.”
“Neither have I,” Miss Juno said emphatically.
“Maybe only those who have betrayed should worry. Honestly, if it wasn’t so terrifying, I would think it just.”
“Have you had anything to do with that Italian man?”
“His name is Giuseppe Moran,” Miss Marnier said. “I think he’s from Milan.”
“He seems a bit… uncouth.”
Neither Miss Juno nor Miss Marnier said anything for a moment.
“Maybe he should be worried,” Miss Marnier said. “I find people who aren’t nice on the surface are usually awful underneath.”
Chapter 20
CAREFULLY CLEMMIE WALKED through the field, stepping on patches of bare dirt where she could, because she knew the high grass would cut her. Everything about this place was sharp and dark, and it had a dullness that refused to let sound escape. There was no sun, nor sky—just dullness.
Where she was, she had no idea, but she didn’t want to be here. There was no behind or ahead of her, this was just it, where she existed. No buildings, no roads, just a clearing with trees in the distance.
The grass was dark and dull too, and she recognized that it wasn’t just a field, this was a battleground. The violence of what had happened had tainted everything, the grass, the sky, the very air itself. The air had a metallic smell. No flowers bloomed here. Nature could not compete with such utter destruction.
She shouldn’t be here, knew it was dangerous. This was where people killed, where life was cheap, and hers was of no more value than the people who’d died here. No one was valued.
“This is no place for girls,” a deep voice boomed. “Run back to your parties and gossip.”
Looking up, she saw the man. She knew him, had seen him before, but not so she could place him. Roman. A soldier. The victor on this battlefield.
Furtively, she stepped in the other direction, making her way away from him, as with a furious animal, she wanted to convey she posed no threat and was moving away. But she couldn’t get away fast enough. His attention was on her. His spear was in his hand, golden and shining.
“No place for you,” he roared from where he stood up on a hill, his red cape menacingly flowing around him, like the blood on the battlefield. But as she looked, she saw it wasn’t a hill, it was bodies, and he stood over the ones he’d conquered.
With more urgency, she tried to move away, to get away from this horrible place. She posed no threat, but he didn’t care.
With her back turned, she felt how exposed she was, and knew he was aiming for her, but she didn’t want to see. The spear was coming, aimed for her back. The hit knocked the wind out of her, square in the middle of her back.
The shock flung her into darkness and for a moment she feared she’d died, but she’d simply woken. The room was cold and dark, and utterly still.
Surprisingly, she wasn’t terrified. Probably because she knew she was safer here than in her dream. In a way, it felt as if she’d successfully escaped him—this man she recognized, but not someone she’d actually met. Instead, he was a man she recognized from other previous dreams, other dreams—dreams she couldn’t remember, but felt familiarity with.
Her nightgown was soaked again, and she felt both chilled and clammy. As before, she got up and pulled on her dressing gown before placing a scoop of coal on the fire. This seemed to become a habit. Sleep had never been an issue that had troubled to her before, but then she’d always been safe in her parents’ house. And now she was alone and far away from anyone she knew. That distance felt pressing right then, and so vast she wondered if she’d ever get home. It didn’t feel like it. In reality, she was stuck here, unable to leave until Oliver had been found.
Technically, she could just leave. She had a carriage and a driver, and enough money to pay for the journey, but it felt like the immature solution—as if she was running away from all the unpleasantness here.
Even the Roman had told her to go, that this wasn’t a place for little girls. And that was what she was. She didn’t know anything about anything. Everything was done for her, and she was lost without someone organizing things for her.
Could anyone blame her if she simply left? It was understandable, wasn’t it? Although she couldn’t imagine the betrayal she’d feel if the roles were reversed, if she was the one in trouble, deep trouble, and her support simply left. No, she had to be here for Oliver, whatever the outcome. She had to be the one who fought for him—at least the one who stayed for him.
Her thoughts were braver than her heart, but she simply had to carry through. It would feel better in the morning. It was just that in the middle of the night, in the dark, like she was, she felt alienated from the entire world. Not a soul was awake around her. And if there were souls around, they probably weren’t alive.
Safe in the bubble of pale light cast by the fire, she refused to go look out the window, or even to look too carefully into the dark corners in case she saw
