Gustave frowned, wrinkles gathering on his forehead. “So you plan to abandon all of us? Grandma, your cousins, me. Sophie.”
Cerise glanced at the soft chair, where Lark curled up, asleep.
She didn’t have an answer, so she just looked away.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Do you think I wouldn’t understand?” he asked softly. “They took your mother away from me. Ripped her out of my hands. That was the last time I saw her, terrified, dragged away. I know what it feels like, Ceri. I do.”
She swallowed. “He didn’t come for me. I love him. I thought he loved me, but he didn’t come for me.”
“Maybe you should go to him,” he said gently. “He might be waiting.”
She shook her head. “I talked to the Mirror’s people. He lied to me again, Papa. He told me he had nothing, but apparently he’s rich. He’s related to the Marshal of the Southern Provinces. It’s a big deal, from what they say. He told me he was a bounty hunter, that he was normal, that he had nothing, and I believed him. Why is it I always believe him? Am I stupid?”
“Men lie for many reasons,” Gustave said. “Perhaps he wanted to make sure that you love him for who he is, not for his money.”
“He told me he loved me, too. How do I know it’s not another lie?”
Gustave sighed. “The man came to get me out of Kasis. He didn’t owe that to us, Ceri. He came for me because I’m your father.”
She shook her head. “He knows where the house is. It would take him a day to get down here. If he wanted to, he would be here already. He’s changed his mind, Papa. He decided he doesn’t want me, and I’m not going to beg. I won’t be showing up on his doorstep in all of my Mire glory, asking him to come and lift me from the mud. I have some damn pride left.”
Gustave sighed. “I want you to start packing tomorrow.”
She didn’t answer. What was the point of talking anyway?
He sighed again and left. Cerise waited until he closed the door and then cried quietly, curled up in her chair.
ANOTHER gray day. The view from the balcony looked much the same.
William shook his head. She wasn’t coming. He had to clench his teeth and move on.
Steps echoed behind him. One of Declan’s deputy marshals, on loan until William could get his own people sorted out. He had no idea how to do that.
“M’lord, Gustave Mar is here.”
A few moments later Gustave joined him on the balcony. Lean, dark. Like Cerise. Same eyes, same posture.
Gustave bowed.
“Don’t,” William told him. “Here.” He pulled a chair from the small picnic table and sat in the other chair himself. “What can I do for you?”
“I came to thank you for saving my family. And for helping Genevieve and sparing my daughter that burden. I don’t know what is proper to say, but I want you to know, I’m grateful. If you need me, I’ll be there. All of us will be there.”
William nodded, uncomfortable. “Thank you.”
They looked at each other. Silence stretched.
“A drink?” William asked.
Gustave exhaled. “Yes.”
William went inside and brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses. He filled the glasses. Gustave sampled his. “Good wine.”
“Not as strong as the one at your house.”
“Ahh, yes. I will miss that. We may have to make excursions into the Mire to gather the berries.”
“Better bring a small army,” William said.
Gustave grimaced. They drained their glasses and William refilled them.
“How’s the moving going?” William said to say something.
“Good,” Gustave said. “A bit slow. There are only fifteen able-bodied adults left, and half of them are injured. Cerise is doing the best she can. We should be about done. The end of this week will be our last dinner at the house. We would be honored if you joined us. We’re easy to find from here—just follow the river. I know it would mean a lot to my daughter.”
“She doesn’t want to see me,” William said.
Gustave rubbed his face. “You’re right. She doesn’t want to see you. That’s why, ever since I’ve returned, my daughter is snarling at everyone and everything. She’s not sleeping. She is not eating. And let’s not forget the crying. She never was a crier. Even as a child.”
“What are you saying?”
Gustave rose. “I’m saying that my daughter thinks you’ve abandoned her. She thinks that you don’t want her anymore, that it’s all over, and it’s breaking her heart. She is too proud to come and beg, and I have gathered that you are too proud to come and get her. The Hand and the feud ripped away my wife, William. She was my life … my everything. They almost destroyed my family. I hate to stand by and watch this cursed mess crush my daughter as well. Think on it. Please.”
He left.
Ten minutes later William left for the Mire.
THE Rathole was as he remembered, William decided, flicking his furry ears. He lay downwind of the house by the roots of a large pine. He’d gone to ground here for about an hour. The Mirror’s people guarding the house spotted him but let him be.
Cerise was inside.
He kept trying to catch her scent, but it just wasn’t there.
If he went in and she told him to leave … He wasn’t sure he would. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted. All his plans ended with “Get to the house.” Now he was at the house, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
The screen door opened. Lark ran down the steps. She wore jeans. Her shirt was clean and her hair was brushed out. She carried a stack of clothes in her hands.
She turned and headed straight for him.
William sank deep into shadows under the pine trying to look smaller.
She stopped a few feet away. “I can see you, you know. You’re as big as a horse.”
William whined at her.
Lark put the clothes on the ground. “She’s in the inner yard. Dad said you can go around over there through the door in the side, so you don’t have to go through the whole place.”
She turned and left. William sighed and pulled the wild deep inside him. Pain racked his bones and then he was human again. He slid his clothes on and went to the side door, through the hallway, and into the inner yard.
The flowers still bloomed in the small garden along the wall. The weapon rack was out, and past it, Cerise practiced just as she had on that morning four weeks ago. All that was missing were Kaldar and Gaston chatting on the sidelines and Grandmother Az perched on the stone bench.
Cerise’s blade sliced through the air with refined grace. So beautiful … So, so beautiful. So fast and deadly and …
She saw him. Her cuts gained a new vicious edge.
He had to be smart about this, but he didn’t know what to say. He would do anything if she still wanted him.
“Hello, Lord Sandine,” she said. “Thank you for saving my father. We owe you a debt.”
William strode to the weapon rack and chose a seneschal blade. It was the biggest, longest, heaviest sword on the rack. It would take him ages to swing it.
