Chapter Forty Claire
If I see a fawna and an owl, does that make my luck good or bad?
—Question for a visiting cardinal from an unnamed altar girl in Jardincourt
Chapter Forty
Claire
Waiting for Abel at our campsite makes me jumpy. When he finally returns just before sunsdown, I nearly cry with relief. Lucy prances around Abel’s ankles and sniffs the two rabbits that hang from his belt.
“Not for you, Luciole,” Abel scolds.
“I thought you were hunting a deer,” I say.
“It was a fawna. Can you believe it?” He laughs. “I couldn’t kill him. He’s a sign of our luck, Claire. I know it.”
I hide a smile behind a gloved fist. If a little superstition makes him feel better, he can believe in it all he wants.
Together by the fire, I cut our vegetables while Abel skins the rabbits. The boiling water bubbles as we add the ingredients. Lucy creeps toward the fire.
He shoos her away. “Not yet.”
“I know, ma Luciole,” I coo, cuddling her. “He’s a big, mean man. That’s your fire.”
Abel gives Lucy a withering look. “I have a confession to make. I’ve been jealous of Lucy’s attachment to you.”
I laugh. “Not my fault.”
“She was attached to Micah too, but never me. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“Some people are gifted with animals,” I say smugly.
He pours stew into our small bowls. I sneak a few rabbit chunks to Lucy while we eat, imagining her fat and happy instead of fighting alongside Abel.
Instead of fighting me. As we finish our meal and the night grows deeper, we fall quiet.
The near-full moon casts his golden hair in silver light, at odds with the orange glow of the flames in his eyes.
He looks as if he’s been caught in the crossfire between the War-Torn Gods.
However this ends, the only thing I want to feel is love.
Abel turns his back on me to pack our dishes away. I wrap my arms around him from behind, inhaling his warm, smoky scent. Lucy, gold and glittering, yawns and trots inside the tent. Firewood shifts behind us.
“Thank you, Abel,” I whisper. “You gave me the choice to fight for my life.”
He turns in my arms, then rests his forehead against mine. “If this fails, part of me will die with you.”
“You’ll find a way to carry on.” I smile for him. Nothing flirtatious. Just real. “You’re stronger than I am.”
He looks at me like I’ve betrayed him. I take his hand and lead him inside the tent, then place his palm over my heart.
“You can touch me,” I say. “Fully.”
He lowers his gaze. “I’m afraid if I give myself to you and you disappear, I might not get myself back.”
“But could you live with the regret if you didn’t?”
His rough hands push my hair from my face, then his mouth meets mine.
His deft fingers push my coat off my shoulders.
I reach for his. There’s a blur of heat, touch, and heavy breath until we’re both stripped bare.
His weight settles over me beneath the furs, infinitely hotter than the night we slept beside the Tordou River.
“Abel,” I breathe between feather-light kisses, “is this for survival?”
He pauses for a heartbeat, elbows on either side of my head, and holds my gaze with his. A thousand emotions pass between us. I tug him closer.
“No,” he says, then kisses me with fire.