Selfish is the Heart (6 page)

“Silent grace so none might judge the sincerity,” Annalise said. “I’ve no care if anyone doubts my sincerity or not.”

Her hostess gave her a shrewd look. “You do know of what you speak. Huh. Well, don’t let my yapping keep you from it. You’ve a meal to eat and a day’s walk to make.”

“A day’s—” Annalise bit down hard on the words and the curse she wanted to lay on the head of the man who’d directed her so astray.

The woman laughed. “Your vision didn’t tell you this part, eh?”

“No, indeed.”

“You could turn back, girly. A swift few minutes’ trek will take you to the main road. There’s a village not far off from there. I’m sure you could send word to your people to come for you. You’ve been on the road what, a day?”

“A few more than that.”

“They’ll barely have noticed you’re gone.”

Annalise bit into the food with a sigh, then moaned softly with pleasure. She chewed carefully, aware of how closely the woman watched her eat. She swallowed. Bit again. She finished her breakfast swiftly and neatly, then wiped the corners of her mouth with a fingertip and stood.

“Thank you for the meal and the lodging. I’m sorry I have naught to offer you in recompense, but—”

“I know. The Invisible Mother told you to set off with naught but your clothes and a day’s worth of provisions.”

This was the description of any vision Annalise had been able to find reported, but she eyed the woman and licked the last slick of grease from her lips. She’d ever been one to stand apart from the crowd.

“Actually, no.” Annalise had not shared the details of her “vision” with anyone—silent grace so that none might judge the sincerity. Or veracity. She’d done her research so she might know the details of what others had said, but she’d never claimed any of them as her own.

The woman smiled. “No? What did She tell you, then?”

Annalise rose with a lie’s thread upon her tongue, one more to add to the tapestry she’d already begun to weave. “She spoke in a voice that made my ears bleed. To be sure, there were words, but I couldn’t tell you what they were. She didn’t need words to convince me I should spend my life in the pursuit of Her return and that of Her husband and child.”

The words had begun as lie but tasted of truth.

The woman who’d given Annalise shelter and food but not her name, tilted her head to stare. Then she pointed out the hut’s small window to the yard behind the house and the forest beyond it.

“Take the path through the woods,” she said. “You’ll find what you seek there.”

C
assian was not surprised to see the woman from the forest crossing the field beyond the Motherhouse. He’d known even when sending her in the wrong direction that she had the spirit necessary to find her way to the Motherhouse. The surprise came in how early she appeared. He’d not thought to see her any time before midday on the morrow, if not later, yet here she was, striding through the knee-high grass and flowers with the walk of a purpose-led woman.

This meant one thing of two—either she’d figured his ruse and made her way to the Motherhouse despite him sending her off in the wrong direction, or she’d so pleased the Sister-in-Service who waited for Seekers in the hut at the edge of the forest that she’d been granted approval rather than further misdirection.

Either way, Cassian knew enough to be impressed. Most Seekers were turned away as many times as it took to discourage them. Most never made it to the Motherhouse.

But this woman had, and as her gaze fell upon him, he waited for her to hesitate before passing. She did not, much as she hadn’t paused upon their first meeting. By the time she reached him, he’d ceased the slow and careful motions of his hands and arms and had come to rest.

“You,” she said.

“Me.”

She looked beyond him, across the field and the low stone wall separating it from the yard, past the stables and to the Motherhouse itself. She looked tired, but not too tired. One night spent sleeping rough, perhaps two, but no more than that. He might’ve underestimated the length of her journey. Her boots and the hem of her gown bore the stains of dust and grass. When she pushed back the hood of her cloak, her hair proved itself in need of a thorough brushing but her face had been recently scrubbed. She lifted her chin. Here in the light of the morning Cassian could see what had been hidden from him in the forest shadows—this woman’s eyes were more than pale, they were crystalline, the color of ice made faintly blue. Against the darkness of her skin and hair, her eyes were even more startling.

“Shall I bother to ask you if yonder mansion is the house I seek, or would you set my foot upon the wrong path again?” Soft anger tinged her voice.

Cassian couldn’t help recalling the less formal tone she’d used with him upon their first meeting. It had suited her better, along with the tease of amusement in those spectacular eyes. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for adopting a more formal stance today.

“Is it the wrong path if you end up where you wanted to be all along?”

She didn’t answer right away, and when she did, her voice was pitched low. “Seek you to test me on philosophy?”

“A question only.” He blew out a breath and scraped his hair back from his face, thinking it was time for another cut.

She looked him over, and again he was struck by her utter lack of self-consciousness in dealing with him. He, a stranger and a man, should have earned at least a slim margin of respect, if not fear. Of course, she had no idea who he was. He wondered if it would matter when she found out.

“Should I have called it the longer, then, instead of the wrong? It would be the same result, would it not?” Now her eyes narrowed, the dark, sleek brows furrowing. Her mouth thinned. “You deliberately misled me.”

Cassian shrugged. “And yet you found your way.”

She studied him. He waited for anger or accusation, but none came. Instead, incredibly, the woman dismissed him with a sniff and turned on her heel so suddenly she tore the grass from the earth. She gathered her skirts and flipped up her hood. Then she set off across the field toward the Motherhouse.

He watched her for a moment without following and deliberated if he should, but the morning sun had already moved in the sky and he would be late for classes if he lingered. He had yet to bathe and eat and was reluctant to relinquish either pleasure in the face of a long day in front of students who ranged from giddily distracted to purposefully inattentive. He caught up to her in the length of three strides and fell into step beside her.

She twitched a glance his way, the motion of her hooded head telling him of the look rather than any sight of her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Walking beside you.”

She stopped in front of the low stone wall that did nothing to keep anyone in or out. “Why?”

“Perhaps we have the same destination.”

She turned to fully face him. “Perhaps? Or certainly?”

An uncommon smile tried to tug at Cassian’s mouth, the feeling of it so rare he at first didn’t recognize it. “Perhaps certainly. If your goal is to reach that large house ahead, then indeed, but I’m certain I wouldn’t dare presume to speak for you.”

The woman huffed before clamping her lips tight. She softened them with an obvious effort. “I believe you would presume a great many things, sirrah, not the least of which would be . . . obfuscation.”

He blinked at the term, then shrugged. “Mistress, I assure you, I happen along the same path out of convenience, not malice.”

“I should believe that? After what you did yesterday?”

“You may believe,” Cassian said after the barest pause, “whatever you wish.”

“Answer me this. Why lie to me? Why deliberately send me down the wrong path? The longer path,” she amended when his mouth opened on the same answer he’d given her before. “To what purpose?”

“Perhaps I’m a trickster.”

The hood shaded her eyes but he felt the weight of her gaze just the same. “No,” she said after a moment. “I don’t believe that’s true.”

“No?”

She shook her head. From within the depths of the hood he caught a glimpse of her mouth, curving now into a smile. Cassian stepped back at the sight of it.

“It was a test, was it not? To see if I’m worthy, or some such thing? Yes?”

In all the years he’d been with the Order, from the dozens of young women who came seeking service and whom he’d had a part in dissuading, Cassian had never been asked that question. They all figured it out, of course, or were informed of their passing upon their first meeting with the Mothers-in-Service. But not a one of them had ever asked him about his part in it.

“I’m right. I can see it on your face.” She laughed.

Cassian scowled and turned away. “You see nothing on my face.”

Incredibly, her hand reached to snag his sleeve, and this action so surprised him at first that Cassian didn’t pull away. “Oh, but I do. Right there in the furrow between your eyes and the way you tried to keep from smiling just a few moments ago. I’ve surprised you, haven’t I? I can see that, too.”

“Mistress,” Cassian said coldly, “I will thank you to unhand me at once. Your exuberance is . . . unseemly.”

“Your mercy,” the woman said without a speck of sincerity in the words. She let her fingers slide from his sleeve. “I suppose they’ll expect a natural decorum, yes?”

“What you lack naturally will be trained into you.” Cassian stepped back to give her a half bow. He had no more appetite, no need to follow her inside. She’d thoroughly unsettled him.

“Ooh, sounds delicious. I can scarce contain my excitement.”

By the Arrow, the chit was flirting with him. Cassian’s scowl deepened. “I’ll leave you to find your own way inside.”

“Are you certain? I might have need of an escort,” came the retort, completely devoid of anything resembling respect, “lest I stumble and struggle upon my way. Would you care to remind me which direction I am not to follow, sir? I’d hate to think I’m depriving you of one last chance to send me astray.”

“I’m fair certain you’ll have no trouble finding the front door. Good day.” Cassian turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the back kitchen with her bedamned laughter trailing him all the way.

 

 

I
t was amazing how a simple mug of tea and slice of fresh bread, a piece of fruit and a quiet room could make the world a brighter place. Hours before Annalise had woken in a dingy hovel in despair, and now she breathed in the soothing scents of gillyflower oil.

“More tea?” The woman sitting across the desk from Annalise had introduced herself as Deliberata, one of the Mothers-in-Service. “I’ve an entire pot.”

“No, thank you . . . Mother.” Annalise tripped a bit on the title. This woman, with her long, sleek braid and high-throated gown, was as far from Annalise’s frilly, fluttery mother as any woman had ever been.

“Very well, then.” Deliberata sat back in her chair and folded her hands on top of the highly polished desk. She watched Annalise without speaking.

Annalise had already shared the details of her “vision.” There must be more for her to say, but she wasn’t going to spout out a bunch of nonsense simply to fill the space between them. She’d already undergone a test of sorts, being sent down the wrong road.
Longer road
, she corrected herself once more. Apparently, she’d passed that one, but had no doubts there would be more. After all, if every person who wished it could enter the Order of Solace, Handmaidens would no longer be rare enough to hold value. On the other hand, she thought as she sipped from the delicate china cup and watched the Mother-in-Service watching her, perhaps there simply weren’t that many women moved to join. The Invisible Mother knew she was only here to delay a marriage she didn’t want, or to avoid it all together. While Annalise believed within her heart she was special, she knew she wasn’t unique.

She set the cup in its saucer and placed it carefully on the desk, then looked around the room. Furnished with heavy, richly carved furniture and thick tapestries, the room was impressive. She’d expected it to be so, of course. While not many knew the details of a Handmaiden’s purpose, most were well-informed of their cost.

“Annalise. A lovely name.” The Mother tapped one finger atop the desk. “And you come from Evadia, yes? Along the border?”

“Yes. I do.” Annalise settled into the creaking chair with a sigh.

“And how long did it take you to travel here?”

“Nearly six days, ma’am. Four by carriage to the town of Delvingdon—”

“I’m familiar with Delvingdon,” Mother Deliberata said dryly. “It is where most of our novitiates from the southeastern provinces go first.”

Delvingdon had a Sisterhouse. A small one, nothing like this grand Motherhouse with its walls of brick and stone and the dome of glass over the central observatory. The Sisterhouse in Delvingdon had only a high iron gate around it and a dour gatekeeper who’d refused Annalise entry and told her which direction to head. Perhaps that had been a test, too.

“I hired a carriage there upon the advice of the Sisterhouse’s gatekeeper,” Annalise said. “Though the carriage driver had little more idea of where to find the Motherhouse than the gatekeeper had given me.”

Deliberata smiled. “We do not keep the location of the Motherhouse a secret. We simply don’t advertise its whereabouts to those for whom the knowledge is unnecessary.”

“Or for those who’d seek to harm it?”

Deliberata nodded slightly. “There would always be those for whom our Order is something to fear rather than revere. Thankfully few in these days, though in times past we’ve not been so fortunate. But nevertheless, those who need to find us, do. As you did.”

“Not without effort.” Annalise frowned, thinking of the man in the forest, the one she’d then met in the meadow. “But I suppose that proves my worthiness to seek a place here, yes?”