Page 97 of The Moorwitch

He glances over his shoulder at me, surprised. “What’s that?”

“Elfhame. You know, I remember so little of that night,” I go on. “Perhaps if I returned with you again, it would further convince Morgaine that you and I are ...”

“Nay,” he says, his tone brusque. “You don’t understand, Rose. Ican’ttake you there, even if I wanted to. My vow to her does not allow it.”

I grimace with disappointment, even though I’d known that would be his answer. But a part of me had hoped, pathetically, that there still might be some easier path.

“Well, I suppose it does not matter,” I say stiffly. “After all, I’m meant to leave in two days’ time. We had a deal, did we not?”

He looks away, his back straight, and gazes over the moor toward the purple hills sloping in the distance. All around us, a dark ring of clouds is slowly closing in, congealing into thunderheads.

I rise from our picnic blanket and walk to his side, to see another storm gathering in Conrad’s eyes. His mood is turning again, sun to shadow.

“There is no rush,” he says at last. “When I said a fortnight, I meant it ... generally.”

My hand shakes as I take hold of the truth knot in my pocket. It’s a smaller one than the great net Conrad wove over me in the cottage, meant to last for only a minute or so, but that will be all the time I need. And though I half wish my heartwouldchoke for once, it gives me no trouble at all when I channel into the thread.

Conrad stands up straighter, his face smoothing slightly, the only indication I have that the spell is working. But there is no awareness of it in his eyes. Even if there were, I am already prepared to Weave the memory spell which will erase this conversation and my treachery from his head.

I open my mouth, knowing I have to get straight to the point while the truth knot still holds, and find some way to pry the portal spell from him. He cannot tell me it straight out, but perhaps he can tell me where a drawing of it might be hidden, or at least what sort of spell it is.

But he speaks before I can.

“I don’t want you to go,” he says.

My breath catches; I turn my face fully to him. Conrad’s eyes, glazed from the truth spell, nevertheless fix me in place until it feels I am made of stone. The wind pushes at us both, twisting my skirts and dragging his dark hair over his forehead.

“You said you would go if it would please me,” he says. “But nothing would please me less. These past weeks with you have been like ... waking after a long sleep. Not since my mother was alive has Ravensgate been so full of life. I’d forgotten it could be like that. Like ahome.”

“You know nothing about me,” I whisper. As if I haven’t already shared more of myself with him than with anyone I can remember. As if there aren’t a thousand more things I want to tell him, if they weren’t buried behind a wall of secrets. But if he knew everything ...

“I know you’re an excellent teacher. I know you’re passionate and clever and stubborn as a mule, but that in that stubbornness is a strength I cannae help but admire. I know that you care fiercely for your students, for their futures and safety, and for defending those who cannae defend themselves. And for all that you stand no taller than a spring colt, you will go toe-to-toe with any bloody-minded bastard you deem unjust.”

I look away, my cheeks warming, unable to bear the directness of his gaze. “What, like you?”

“Like me.” He smiles. “And if you leave now, I’ll never have the chance to learn more. Iwantto learn. I want to know where you go in your thoughts when you look out the window and your brow furrows. I’ve noticed how you drift away. Who captures your mind so? Is there someone else, someone you’ve left behind?”

My mind flashes to Lachlan, and a chill scurries up my spine.

Conrad seems to notice my hesitation. He lifts his chin. “There is someone.”

“No. That is, not in the way you think. I have obligations, Conrad. My employer—”

“Youremployer.” He twists the word on his tongue. “You rarely speak of him. And when you do, your voice shakes.”

“Nonsense.”

“Who is he? Why did you leave your teaching post—which you speak of with such pride and passion—to follow a cloth merchant around the backwaters of Scotland?”

“I needed a change. I wanted to travel.” I hear the defensive edge to my tone and know he is not fooled. “Surely you can understand that. My employer offered me the opportunity, and so I took it.”

Conrad’s jaw flexes. “Does he have some claim on your heart?”

My hand moves to my hair before I can think, remembering the feel of Lachlan’s cruel fingers. “It’s nothing like that.”

“So you’ve no obligation to this man.”

“I—I do, but not in the way you imagine.” What is happening?I’msupposed to be the one asking questions, not him. But I feel as if he has turned my own magic against me. This is not at all the sort of truth I’d hoped to steal from him!