Page 41 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

For the first few moments after waking, I wondered why I was so stiff and sore—and why wasn’t Sister Aletha in the womens’ quarters, bellowing at us to get off our lazy asses as she did every morning? The cool light of the sun, filtered through mist, was still a blaze of red against my closed eyelids. I had overslept by hours.

And then I realized I was sitting, slumped forward with my head pillowed on my arm. Not in my lumpy cot; certainly not anywhere near the indentured womens’ quarters of the Silver Cathedral.

I opened my eyes a crack, peering at the wide desk I’d used as a bed, the journal open before me, dangerously close to the puddle of wax spread from the long burned-out candle I’d used last night.

Sitting up with a groan, I carefully moved my precious journal away from the wax, and looked down at the pages, filled with tight, even lines of writing. Somewhere near the end my careful letters had begun to wobble and drift from their straight lines… that was where exhaustion had finally won. I wrinkled my nose at the imperfections marring the page.

Well, that’s what I got for writing into the late hours of the night instead of doing my marital duty. I put the cap back on my pen, closed the book, and looked down at myself.

I was still in the wedding dress, the three droplets of blood standing out like a scream against the white expanse.

Somewhere in my incessant spilling of words, I had apologized to Bane. Told him that I was merely human—that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to overcome the centuries of terror of his kind that had been inscribed into every fiber of my being.

I wondered now if I should remove that page… but I couldn’t bring myself to slice so much as a single paper from the beautiful thing he’d given me.

Some wife you are, Cirri, I told myself mockingly as I dragged myself from the desk and set to digging about in a wardrobe.He gives you things you couldn’t afford in a thousand years, and you run from him.

No—not from him.

From histeeth. From the terror that my throat would be torn loose by those heavy jaws.

Never mind that he had been gentle with me… and had let me go.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled out a fresh, unworn gown—clearly newly-made, designed for Antonetta’s measurements. And it was certainly not the rough, itchy wool I was used to, nor the simple undyed cotton the Sisters’ maids wore in summer.

No, of course it was emerald green velvet, with heavy, gold embroidery at the cuffs, collar, and hem.

I stared at the dress, which would have been the finest thing I’d ever worn in my life if not for the wedding silk wrapped around me now, and finally committed myself to peeling the silk away without damaging it.

I carefully folded it into a neat package, the three red spots showing on top, and then, on some impulse I didn’t quite understand, I chose one of the empty desk drawers in which to store it. I also hid my journal in there; until I could find a bag to carry it around, I didn’t want to risk losing or damaging it. I could stand to be unheard for another day if it ensured my journal’s safety.

I would ask the maids not to go near the desk. That was my territory now; the dress would be safe from prying hands in there.

Sliding into the velvet gown, I told myself I didn’t knowwhyI was worried about someone touching the wedding dress—all I knew was that I didn’t want them to.

While I was dragging a brush through my hair, I had an unpleasant start when something moved in the mirror behind me, and I whipped around to find Ellena emerging from a wooden door. She still wore her maid uniform, dark hair tucked under the wimple I was used to.

She yawned widely, making a face when she realized I’d already dressed.

“My apologies, my Lady.” There was a curious flatness to her tone as she came to me, taking the brush from my hands. “Let me do that, or the she-leech will be all over me about failing in my duties. The Light knows I’ve heard enough of it already.”

I wanted to sign to her that no, I didn’t expect her to wait on me—after all, I had been in those same shoes only a day ago.

And to call Wyn a she-leech, when she had shown us nothing but kindness… well, kindness with a tart edge, but nonetheless.

But Ellena wouldn’t understand me, and I wasn’t going to waste paper on arguments. I mentally added ‘find a slate’ to my list of things to accomplish as Ellena braided my hair and pinned it into a neat crown around my head.

Thank you, I signed.I’m going to see if I can find something to eat. You’re welcome to join me.

Ellena dropped the brush on the dressing table, giving my hands the slightest disinterested glance. “Will you be wanting breakfast then, my Lady?”

This time there was the slightest pugnaciousness to her tone, a curl of the lip.

I didn’t ask for this, I told her, jabbing the air with irritation.Don’t mock me. I’m not about to lord it over you.

She stared at me. I sighed as silently as possible, then went to the door. She could wallow in here if she liked, then. I wanted to fill my empty stomach with something other than wine and cake, and then find what needed to be done in Ravenscry that someone like me could accomplish. Sitting in here was only going to make me broody and miserable, a state of being I found tedious at best.

Perhaps Wyn could use a scribe… I pushed the door open, lost in my own thoughts, and nearly walked into someone.

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