Page 52 of Dark Bringer (Lord of Everfell #1)
Cathrynne
T he caracal stretched his lean body along the rug beside her bed, baring his fangs in a yawn. Tufted ears swiveled at every sound from the hallway, his gaze never straying from the door for long.
It had taken Cathrynne a week to gather the courage to explore her old bedroom. The armoire still had her child-sized clothes, brittle and moth-eaten like artifacts in a museum. A blue dress with silver piping. A gray cloak with pom-pom ties.
The sight triggered a flood of memories.
Running through the garden as her mother called her in for dinner.
Lara weaving her hair into intricate braids that were the latest fashion.
Alluin Westwind, with his gentle smile, bringing her peppermint candies.
She’d thought him a friend of the family. She’d had no idea he was her father.
She wandered to the writing desk and pulled open the center drawer. It still stuck halfway and had to be jiggled. There, tucked beneath a stack of yellowing paper, lay a deck of cards—the very deck she had been playing with the day the White Foxes came.
Thirty-six images, just as she remembered: The Ship, The House, The Fox, The Whip, The Crossroads . . .
The same ones that appeared in her visions, that haunted her dreams.
Tamar rose in one fluid motion. The door handle turned. Cathrynne grabbed a heavy glass paperweight, ready to smash Berti Baako’s face with it. Or Markus Viktorovich. She wasn’t sure which of them she hated more.
The door opened. It was her mother. Cathrynne set down the paperweight, surprised to notice her hand shaking. The adrenaline rush had been instantaneous. How long would she be jumping at shadows? She drew a steadying breath, though her mother didn’t seem to notice.
“He likes you,” Hysto said, eyeing the caracal, who had settled back on his haunches.
“And I like him,” Cathrynne said. “How long have you had him?”
“Six years now. His mother was called Mereth. We got her after you . . . left.” Hysto moved about the room, tidying things that didn’t need tidying. “We kept it the same,” she said, unnecessarily. “All your belongings.”
“I noticed.”
In the daylight, Cathrynne saw that her mother had aged.
Besides the thick swathes of gray in her hair, the skin of her face looked thin and finely creased like crêpe paper.
She wore a quilted jacket with colorful embroidery in panels down the front over a long white skirt and scuffed boots.
A traditional Rus style that was very different from the modern, tailored woman Cathrynne remembered.
Now Hysto looked at her like a kicked dog. “I’m so sorry, Cathrynne.”
Perhaps it was awful, but she felt a wave of disgust. “Don’t be.”
“Why not? Everything that’s happened to you is my fault.”
“I’m not some pathetic creature,” Cathrynne said coldly. “I have a life. One I happen to like a good deal. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make assumptions.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry?—”
“You can stop saying that, too. It’s been twenty years. I’ve done fine without you. So please, save the apologies.” She had no idea where this cruelty was coming from, only that she hated her mother at the moment.
Hysto glanced at the door as if she might leave but didn’t.
“I want you to know that we did not simply go on as if nothing had happened.” Her hands kneaded each other. “After they took you away, I sank into a period of deep melancholy. You don’t know what it is to lose a child.”
“No,” she replied evenly, “but I know what it is to lose everything else.”
“May I sit?”
Cathrynne didn’t want to do this, but she nodded. Hysto sank into a chair.
“We founded a school,” she said. “For young women in need. Girls who might otherwise end up on the streets.”
“That’s admirable.”
“I needed to help someone. It was the only thing that . . . I just needed to.” She stared at Cathrynne for an uncomfortable moment, her expression haunted.
“What?”
“It’s just . . . you look so much like your father.”
She already knew that. She certainly didn’t look like her mother and half-sister. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know.” Hysto dabbed her eyes with a sleeve.
“He fled when the White Foxes came. Alluin was arrested and I never saw him again.” Bitterness tinged her voice.
“Mount Meru disciplines its own. I sent a plea for any information to the Angel Tower, but no one would tell me.” She looked out the window.
“I was ostracized for a time, but the Lenormand name still carries weight and I have friends on the Council. Eventually, the scandal blew over.”
“Well, I’m glad for you,” Cathrynne said, her tone still cool. “I’d hate for you to be punished for the rest of your life. That would be unfair, wouldn’t it?”
Hysto went pale. Before she could respond, the door swung open and Nestania entered. “I have word of Lord Morningstar,” she said.
Cathrynne’s pulse leapt. “Has he recovered from his illness?”
“Fully.”
She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “I would like to see him.”
Nestania looked regretful. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“He has returned to Kirith.”
Cathrynne frowned. “He’s gone home?”
Her grandmother’s eyes were pitying. “Did you expect any different? His reputation for coldness is well-earned.”
But he is not cold, she wanted to shout at them. He is not cold at all!
“He doesn’t know I’m here,” she muttered. “I know I swore you to secrecy, but I would make an exception for him?—”
“I saw him myself today,” Nestania said. “He is aware.”
Her heart clenched. “Did he leave any message for me?”
“I’m afraid not. Best forget about him,” Nestania said briskly. “He has clearly done the same about you. Now, your mother and I have decided to move you to our dacha in the countryside. The fresh air will speed your recovery.”
“I’m not a child.” Cathrynne locked eyes with her. “You can’t simply make decisions on my behalf.”
“Don’t be difficult,” Nestania retorted. She seemed surprised to find that the pliable young girl she’d known two decades ago had grown into a headstrong woman.
Hysto stepped in, her voice soft and coaxing, which was equally irritating. “We only have your best interests at heart. Surely you remember the summers we spent there, swimming at the lake and playing tennis?”
Cathrynne gave a grudging nod. Those were the long, lazy golden days of her childhood.
“You were born there, darling,” her mother admitted. “I left the city when the pregnancy was too far along to hide anymore. I’m sorry I lied to you.” She shared a look with Nestania. “But we had no other choice?—”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Cathrynne snapped. “Please, just leave me alone.”
Hysto recoiled. “Very well. But I beg you to consider it. All we want is to keep you safe. It is a great gift that you have been returned to us.”
They left. Cathrynne stared into space.
Gavriel was gone. Back to Kirith without a word. She tried to make sense of it. Would he leave without saying goodbye?
He would if he felt something for her. In that case, a clean break would be best.
She swallowed the knot in her throat. Maybe some time in the countryside would do her good. She needed to recover physically before she tried to find Kal Machena. But there was no way she’d leave the young woman to the mercy of the White Foxes.
Suddenly, the room felt horribly stuffy. She needed fresh air. Cathrynne opened all the windows. A cool breeze blew in and she inhaled the scent of roses.
A starling landed on the sill, eyeing her with a bright, quizzical gaze.
“Hello, pretty thing,” she said. “I wish I had some seed for you.”
A tawny flash from the corner of her eye was all the warning she had.
“No, Tamar!” Cathrynne threw herself into the path of the leaping caracal. The starling took flight, and his paws raked along her arm. She winced. A little blood oozed from the scratches, but they barely hurt and it was worth it to save the bird.
“I won’t scold you,” she said to Tamar, “since it is your nature to hunt. But I think you are well-fed enough, my friend.”
He gave her a reproachful look, then laid his paws on the windowsill and watched the bird speed skyward. Only a single purple-green feather remained. Cathrynne picked it up and presented it to Tamar. He sniffed the feather, growled, then took it delicately in his jaws and lay down by the bed again.