Chapter 20
The Warden said not a word to me until Gareth was safely back in his room—guarded by Brigid, at my request—and we were alone in her office. Once the door was closed behind us, she wasted no time getting to the point.
“How dare you,” she snapped, rounding on me. “After what’s just happened, you run off without telling anyone? And with the man whose mind was overtaken by a demon only three hours ago?”
At first I was too shocked to respond. I’d seen her angry many times, but I’d never—not once—seen her cry. And now her dark eyes shone with tears.
“I thought it best to keep him away from the others,” I managed to say. “Until things settle, he’s at risk.”
“And, perhaps, a threat.”
“The demon is dead,” I said, bristling at the implication in her voice. “Gareth is no longer a danger and should be left in peace to recover.”
“I didn’t realize you were an expert on the subject of demonic possession.”
“And I didn’t realize that your vaunted wards were so deeply flawed that they would allow a demon working for the enemy to enter Rosewarren.”
I took advantage of her stunned silence to press on, all the angry grief that had been brewing inside me since Posey’s death bubbling to the surface. “You direct your ire at Gareth and at me when in fact it’s you who are to blame for what’s happened.”
She recovered quickly, touching the fresh bandage on her forehead with shaking fingers. “Insolent child. The vast majority of demons are not like your friend Talan. They are cunning and sadistic and have very little regard for humans.”
“Yes, Madam, but that does not invalidate my point.”
“And I cannot be expected to stand against Kilraith’s operatives all on my own.”
I ignored the twinge of sympathy in my heart. “You are not on your own. You have all of us, and you have an entire team of the university’s best and brightest at your disposal. But whenever anyone comes to you with a suggestion about modifying or fortifying the wards, you turn them away.”
She shook her head as I spoke and finally let out a stifled harsh sob. “What if something had happened to you?”
The question was sharp, furious. And though she held her mouth in a thin line, it trembled nonetheless as she glared at me, as if she were fighting against some great simmering emotion.
Once again I was speechless. I knew how to handle an angry Warden; I knew how to argue with her. I didn’t know how to stand against her tears.
“What would we all do if you were killed?” she went on. “What would I do without you, Mara?”
Her voice broke on that last question, and I got the terrible feeling that she was going to truly cry right there in front of me.
I cleared my throat and reached for calm. “I’m sorry for speaking so harshly. I know that you’re tired and that you try your best—”
“Do you think I’m oblivious to your many reckless ventures?”
That was a blow. The boldness that had spurred me to challenge her fled, and in its place, a sick, cold feeling trickled down my body.
The Warden smiled tightly. “Yes, I can see that you did.” She moved to stand behind her desk.
“I’ve not said anything until now, though perhaps I should have.
I trusted you to know your limits and to remember your duty before you went too far.
But that has always been the risk of loving you: that my affection would blind me to your faults.
” She sighed and placed her hands flat on the desktop.
“I suppose it can happen to any devoted mother.”
And that—that was the thing that nearly kicked my legs out from under me.
Since the night of my trials, I’d known I was her favorite.
But never had she been this candid with me, and never had she said the words I’d long ago given up hope of hearing.
I wanted to be angry at her. I was angry at her, and more than a little afraid of her—her erratic behavior, her volatile temper, the cruelty she could so deftly deal.
But standing there before her, helpless in the grip of an embarrassing, desperate need, all I could do was whisper, “Do you love me, Madam?”
She glanced up at me irritably. “Well, of course I do, Mara. Someday I’ll birth a daughter of my own blood, and I won’t love her half as much as I do you. Unfortunate child. But she’ll learn to live with it.”
Somehow my scrambling thoughts managed to hold on to that piece of information: the Warden did not, in fact, have a secret daughter. Whether that was cause for relief or urgent worry, I couldn’t decide, and I didn’t care to try. My stupid, confused heart had no capacity for it.
“But the feelings of my future child are not important right now,” the Warden said briskly.
She sat in her chair, opened a leather packet of paper, and began writing.
“What’s important is giving you time and space to consider your actions and hopefully find the resolve to make better decisions in the future.
And you weren’t wrong tonight, even if you shouldn’t have acted without consulting me: Professor Fontaine should indeed be kept out of harm’s way while we tend to our dead. He’ll accompany you.”
“Our dead?” I said faintly.
“Three littles and five members of our household staff. No grown Roses, thank the gods.” She tore out the paper she’d been writing on and folded it into crisp thirds.
Three littles. Five members of our staff.
I clasped my hands behind my back so hard that my healing palm screamed with pain.
But I had to hold on to something. My head was a mess, and my heart felt even worse.
I wasn’t sure whether to celebrate being sent away with Gareth or protest on behalf of my sanity.
“Where will you send us?” I asked.
“North.” She sealed the letter, first with wax, then with a wordless binding spell that made my eyes water.
“The Falkeron Cloisters. I’ve received intelligence that the monks there have been conducting their own search for Zelphenia and may have stumbled upon a lead.
Here.” She held out the letter. “This is for the Blessed Abbot. He’s a curmudgeon obsessed with etiquette and appreciates a proper note of introduction upon receiving visitors. ”
But I was still stuck on the fact that the Falkeron monks had possibly found a clue as to Zelphenia’s whereabouts. That they had been searching for their patron goddess didn’t surprise me; after Mhorghast’s destruction, word of the gods’ return had spread quickly.
What did surprise me was that the Warden had learned about their efforts only through the Order’s intelligence network.
Normally I wouldn’t have hesitated to voice these thoughts to her, but after everything that had happened, it took me a moment to recover my courage. “Why didn’t they share their findings with you voluntarily?”
The Warden’s mouth turned down irritably at the corners. “Pride? Caution? An overblown commitment to honoring Zelphenia’s secretive nature by being secretive themselves? The Blessed Abbot’s deranged sense of humor? I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Have they told anyone else what they’ve found?”
“That would be incredibly foolish of them, wouldn’t it?
Here.” She waved the letter at me. “Leave as soon as you can. I’m sure the professor will want to bring all manner of devices so he can search for the remaining anchors during your journey, but I trust you’ll be able to rein him in?
You’ll need to travel light and fast. It’s a bad winter already up there. ”
I took the letter from her, an uneasy feeling niggling at the back of my mind.
So many things about what had happened here today didn’t feel right, and my instinct told me that if I correctly assembled them I would uncover some crucial truth.
But doing so felt impossible; I didn’t even know how to begin.
The Warden noticed my hesitation and looked up from her papers. Her eyes were dry, and her countenance had smoothed out to its usual impeccable state. Even her posture had improved. “You can leave now, Mara.”
I picked one worry out of the dozens fighting for dominance in my mind. “With all due respect, Madam, five minutes ago you said Gareth could be dangerous and scolded me for being near him. Now you’re sending us on a mission together? I don’t understand.”
She sighed, returning her gaze to her paper-strewn desk. “You’ve noticed, I’m sure, that I’ve not been myself of late. That incident with the fae was regrettable behavior on my part. I know it upset you, and for that I’m sorriest of all.”
I went very still at the mention of Posey. Her death had upset me?
“Yes, Madam,” I replied, my fingers clammy around the sealed letter.
“The stresses of war are wearing on me more than I’d care to admit,” she continued.
“I find myself to be full of contradictions these days. Rash decisions, bad judgments. I may have to rely on you more heavily, Mara, in the days to come. All of that is to say, I know very well that Professor Fontaine is no danger. I was afraid for you, and I let that fear run away with my temper and my reason. If the touch of the demon were still upon him, I’d feel it, as I feel everything that happens within these walls.
” She smiled sadly, her gaze distant. “I suppose I must have that baby sooner rather than later. Does that frighten you? The idea of a new Warden?”
“No, Madam,” I answered honestly. “It will be an enormous change for everyone, but we will adapt, as we always do.”
I felt that there was more to say, something important that crowded the back of my mouth. But I couldn’t find the right words, and then the Warden was waving me away.
“Dismissed,” she said, returning her attention to her papers. I knew that tone and didn’t dare risk defying her when I’d already dared so much.
It wasn’t until I was packing supplies in my room later that night that I understood what they’d been, those throat-crowding words. The realization crept in slowly until suddenly I had to sit down, boots in hand, stomach in knots, and let the feeling fill me.
No, the idea of a new Warden doesn’t frighten me.
What frightens me is you.
And what I become, what I’m reduced to, when I’m around you.