Page 86 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

Perhaps he thought he’d met a kindred spirit in me, having lost a title as well, but I could go the rest of my life and never think of the lai Darran family or estates again, and remain unbothered.

“That’s kind of you,” he said, dredging a new brush through scarlet paint. “But then, you’re always kind, Cirri.” He smiled at me, giving me a long look under dark lashes, and I wondered if this was some sort of joke: I certainlyhadn’tbeen kind in what I’d said the last time we met, and I would gladly say it again. “And this painting… I think this will be my greatest work, and with luck, I’ll move up in the world.”

Artists are always in high demand in Argent, was my neutral contribution.

“Perhaps, but I’m not a city lad. Born and raised in the Rift.” He patted his chest. “I’d just be happy to take my family title back, make them see something more than a Forian by-blow when they look at me.”

I’m sure they will.

He continued on for some time, and even though I tried my hardest to be an attentive listener, my mind drifted, lulled by the warmth of the rare sunshine on my shoulders.

The hymn… in the space of a late afternoon, Imightbe able to translate one or two of the High Tongue runes. By the Light, when I could finally present Bane with actual, verifiabletranslations… it would be the greatest project of my life, the unbinding of a lost language.

So that would be today’s goal, but the fact that he had risen before the sun and vanished again still had my curiosity by the throat. Could he be studying the High Tongue on his own? Or was it something to do with Wyn’s new bloodwitchery, the reason she’d filled a vessel with my blood?

I pondered whether he was holed up in the Tower of Autumn with Wyn, working on something that was possibly deadly—he hadn’t made those warnings for no reason, and I trusted him not to understate the matter—and if I should be concerned about him being involved in something of a dangerous nature.

Which made me huff aloud with laughter. Bane was a fiend. Literally, what could possibly pose a threat to him, outside an army of wargs?

“Is something funny?” Miro glanced up from the canvas, still smiling, but there was a subtle gleam of annoyance in his gaze. “I didn’t realize that I was so amusing.”

Just thinking of Bane, I wrote, and replayed Miro’s last words in my head: he’d said something about the noblemen disliking him.

Well, it clearly hadn’t been the best time to laugh, but then, I could only listen to a constant stream of self-pity and woe for so long before I began to get itchy.

“Ah.” He glanced at what I’d written. “I imagine he occupies your mind quite a bit.”

Instantly my guard went up; I examined his face for the tell-tale signs of petulance I’d come to expect from him, but he appeared almost carefully neutral, disguising his true thoughts.

That tends to happen when you’re married to someone, I wrote.

“It’s just a pity, that’s all,” he continued, brow furrowed as he dabbed more paint on the canvas. “To waste a lai, a beauty like you, on… well, you see what he is.”

And we’re done here, I wrote, holding it up for his perusal before scrawling more in sharp letters.You can keep beating the dead horse, but it’s rotting and it stinks by now.I’d wish for you to have a good day, but something tells me you’ll spend it sulking and miserable and making it worse for everyone else. You can come find me again to finish this when you’ve grown up a bit.

His eyes widened as he read my words, and when I slammed my journal shut and got to my feet, he reached out as though to grab my skirt.

My fist clenched around my pen, and I glared at him hard enough that he withdrew his hand, leaning away from me.

“Cirrien, wait.Wait.” Miro laughed disbelievingly as I walked away. “So you’re just leaving? All right, then. Good day to you too, Lady Silence.”

His mocking nickname pricked at me as I plunged deeper into the Bloodgarden, determined to walk off my irritation before going to the library. I didn’t want to be angry and uncontrolled when I handled the precious books.

Lady Silence. Howclever. Really, it was amazing we didn’t fall all over ourselves to appreciate his wit.

I exhaled as I took the curling paths through the garden, until I stumbled into a shadowed corner in the back; the fountain—no, altar—where we’d made our vows was hidden in darkness, the woman’s eyes closed, her mouth no longer spilling blood. Her empty hands were dry, still stained crimson with wine and blood.

If the fountain was here… then our thorns were over there. I retraced the steps I remembered from that night, smiling as I remembered Bane signing, asking me for cats, and found thepatch of earth at the base of one of the carved loggia columns where I’d knelt in my wedding dress to dig with my bare hands.

I knelt before it now, unsure whether to smile or frown: our vine was growing. Green tendrils had emerged from the soil and were beginning to creep up the column, the tiniest nubs of what would become thorns blistering their sides. There was even a bud with the faintest hint of pink to it, a bloodrose born of our conjoined hands.

But the earth here had been disturbed, and recently. I touched the freshly scattered soil, breathing in the scent of newly-turned earth.

Who had been digging in our vines?

I was happy to see it already growing, a sign, as Bane had explained to me, that their ancestors were pleased with us. But to come here and dig around in it… what purpose did that serve?

I would ask him when I saw him tonight; I made a mental note to make a written note, so I wouldn’t forget.

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