Page 9 of Beneath Hoof and Hollow
“Lamb’s Golden Light?” My neck is still craned to peer up at him. He hasn’t released my hair.
“Reverend Statton has hand-selected a small group, including myself, to keep watch over the town.”
Reverend Statton is certainly keeping himself busy these days. Now my fiancé is under his thumb? A part of some special group of watchers? I know what’s really happening. Men need to feel important. By giving them a title and purpose, Reverend Statton has won them over to his side. What side that is forremains uncertain, but with Alesia’s death still fresh, I suspect his future intentions to be ill indeed.
I try speaking to the part of Leed that has always been sensible, rational during discussion. “Well then, it will be even safer than normal with you out and about. I do not need a chaperone. It’s just a meeting with friends.”
Leed drops his hold on my hair. My scalp is tender from the firm grip. He moves between me and the front door, leaning against the wood and folding his arms over his broad chest. “The answer is no.”
A bud of panic sprouts in my chest. “The answer? I did not ask for permission.” My palms sweat as anger and embarrassment threaten to break my composure. Why is he acting like this?
“You will not leave this house tonight, Emeline.” The finality in his tone stokes my anger.
“But you’re leaving. You said it yourself. With you out there keeping an eye on things, I’ll be fine.”
“Reverend Statton spoke with us after the arrests this morning. He was adamant that we protect our women by whatever means necessary.” Leed pushes off the door and takes several quick steps toward me, leaving only the smallest bit of space between us. I usually like the difference in height. His tall stature has always made me feel safe and protected. I found it attractive when we first met. Right now, the way he towers over me feels menacing. “I don’t want to have to restrain you. But I will.”
My mouth hinges wide in shock, my cheeks hot. “Restrain me?”
Leed stares at me, his brown eyes unyielding. His only response is a curt nod.
“Leed…” my voice trails off. I don’t recognize him.
“Return to your knitting. Sit here willingly while I am away and we will have no need for restraints.”
My throat is thick as I try to swallow. I step away from him, needing space. “I just…”
Leed makes his way to the kitchen, pulling a length of cord from one of the drawers. He turns to me, eyebrows raised. “Emeline?”
I stumble back, seating myself and picking the blanket back up. My hands are shaking so badly I struggle to work my knitting needles.
Leed props himself against the wall, cord in hand, watching me. The silence thickens the air, making it even harder to breathe.
My song is only a whisper at first. I’m not sure if it’s more for me or Leed, but my music has always calmed him in hot-tempered moments. “Cat mint and silver, iron and rose. One gather little. Two gather little. This, that, and those.”
Some of the tension in Leed’s shoulders loosens. The creases of his face soften. If I can calm him enough to see reason, maybe he’ll let me leave.
“Lillies and jewels, candles and geese. One gather little. Two gather little. This, that, and these.”
Leed takes a step toward me, a smile curling up against his strong jaw. A glazed shimmer has fallen across his gaze.
“Leed—”
A knock at the front door startles me so badly, I drop my yarn. It rolls across the floor, only stopping its unraveling when it hits the tip of Leed’s boot. He kicks it away and opens the door.
After a few hushed words are exchanged, he turns back to me.
“Do not leave this home, Emeline. There will be consequences.” The door slams behind him. Breath rushes from me. My next inhale is jagged and full of emotion. Tears droponto my unfinished blanket.What was that? That wasn’t the Leed I know. Fear and shame twist inside me. I search for courage beneath the stewing emotions, but do not find it. Instead I do as I’m told. I sit, wait, and eventually turn in for the night.
My sheets are scratchy, as if even they have turned ill will on me in response to my cowardice. Should I have fought harder to stand up for myself? I was caught off guard. Leed has never treated me in such a way.
I hear the voices of the others even before Leed kicks in our front door. I jump from bed, meeting him as he reaches our room.
He’s sweating profusely and there is blood on his torn white tunic. A small golden emblem sits pinned to his chest. A simple triangle with three small circles surrounding it.
“Are you injured?”
“The blood spilled belongs to the wicked. Come. We make for the western woods.Now.” He barks the command.No, no, not again.
