Page 214 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

She gazed up at me, chewing her lower lip, and finally raised her hands.

I’ll tell you when I’m sure. If I’m to be the Scrollkeeper, I can’t come to you with conjecture and blind faith. I must come to you with irreproachable proof.

I was taken aback for a moment, the selfish part of me wanting to demand what she thought, but she was not a girl, or a servant. She had earned her title and position for herself, and I would bow to her greater knowledge.

“Of course, Cirri.” I kissed her briefly, and gave her a wicked smile. “Lady Wargbinder.”

Oh, do not, she said, flapping her hands at me to drive the words away with disgust. A new flush had touched her cheekbones, painting them pink.I did it on a wing and a prayer. I could just as easily have died and taken all of you with me.

“That’s half of battle, love. Most of it’s sheer luck when the strategies fall apart. How about this: Lady Scrollkeeper of Ravenscry.”

Much better. Her eyes glittered. Standing there in the pines, with the mist curling around her crimson hair, she seemed more beautiful to me than she’d ever been before. Despite her injuries, she stood up straighter, her shoulders back; some confidence she’d clawed away from her ordeal and taken for her own.

I remembered how small she’d seemed the first time she walked in. How uncertain. A woman trying to compress herself into an invisible ball, waiting for the world to slap her down.

There was no sign of that uncertain woman anymore. She was fully, completely Cirri as she should be.

“Come then, lover,” I said, holding out an arm to her.

She took it, and together we strode into Ravenscry.

Come,both of you.

Cirri signed to us from the Bloodgarden below. Dressed in green velvet, her hair gleaming in the faint misty light, she seemed like one of the bloodroses come to life. The golems trailed her as they had been doing for two weeks now, unwilling to be separated from their mistress.

It seemed that with her abduction, they had learned to fight commands, straining against any order that took her out of sight. Cirri had finally given up, posting them in the library as her assistants, and even now they trooped obediently behind her with stacks of books and scrolls.

Fortunately, they either respected us, or Cirri saved all her willpower for the sole command that they remain in the Tower of Spring at night.

Wroth, leaning on the balcony, stared down at my wife, and before he turned away I caught the envy in his eyes.

“I’m not too proud to admit when I’m wrong,” he said in a quiet growl. “I’ll admit that I remain unconvinced for my own future, but at least one of us has escaped hell.”

I shook my head. “I wish I could give you more hope.”

Wroth glanced up at me, blue eyes catching the sun so they gleamed as pale as snow. “In a way, you both do. I can’t begrudge you happiness.”

Neither of us took the stairs down; Wroth leaped down, landing lightly on his paw-like feet, and I climbed down the walls, claws gouging into the stone. We followed her, trailing her sweet scent.

Cirri waited in the middle of the library, directing the golems as they organized the scrolls and books on a marble-top table the servants had dragged out for her.

Her hands were healing, the scars so fine and interlaced it almost looked like she wore thin silver gloves; only the slight crookedness of several fingers, and the scars themselves, gave away that they’d ever been ruined at all.

Wyn and Visca are coming, she said.What I have to tell you is important.

Wroth and I sat obediently in the chairs she pointed to. I was to act as her translator; with Brother Glyn’s lessons, I had reached a point where I understood most of what she said.

I smiled at her, receiving a blush in return, but at this moment, she was the Scrollkeeper, not my blushing bride.

To watch her in her element amazed me. Perhaps I hadn’t earned my good fortune, and maybe I didn’t deserve it, but I would never, ever take it for granted.

My advisors joined us shortly afterwards, Wyn’s sleeve smoking slightly from a charred hole, Visca looking more relaxed than she had in years. With the death of the wargs, theconstant stress of a looming threat had been swept out from beneath us.

“Go ahead, dear,” Wyn said, gesturing airily.

Cirri looked at us all, her eyes moving from face to face. Anxiety had tightened her shoulders, the downturned corners of her mouth betraying her tension. She took a deep breath and exhaled.

Very well, she said, and I spoke softly as she moved. She put a hand on the table for a brief moment, touching the scroll.For now, this must remain between us, until you decide what you want to do.

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