Page 90 of Wild Reverence

LXIX

When the Silence Breaks

VINCENT

It was not the light but the cold that roused me from sleep.

I reached my hand to the other side of the bed.

Matilda’s side. I could feel the rumple of sheets from where we had come together.

I could still taste the memory of her, my blood stirring at the thought, but the mattress was cool to the touch.

She had been gone for some time and I sat forward, studying the room.

“Red?”

There was no answer. Only dust motes spun in the stream of dawn’s light. Even the embers in the hearth were quiet, having died into ashes, and I threw off the coverlet and rose, the floor like ice on my bare feet.

I had overslept, but the castle was silent. For some reason that troubled me, and I walked to the bathing room, thinking perhaps Matilda was there. It, too, was empty, the blue tiles gleaming as if they knew a secret I didn’t.

“Matilda?” I called, returning to the main chamber. I saw her violet cloak, draped over the chair. Her belt and gown were still on the floor, next to my trousers and boots. I picked them up, unable to explain why my throat constricted.

Something was wrong.

She never left her belt behind.

The roar of my thoughts was broken by an impact. Somewhere below me, a rock was hurled into the castle wall.

The floor shuddered. The timber beams groaned. It felt like the earth was quaking, and I watched the tapestry on the wall waver. A goblet clattered from my hearthside table. The glass panes cracked into a web.

Slowly, I walked to the window. The light was pale blue; a soft rain still fell. But I could see the other side of the river, the trebuchets lined up on the bank, firing massive rocks at the fortress.

It had begun.

Matilda, I thought, my fear like a knife.

One thing I was certain of: wherever she was, it was far from here.

Far from me.