Winterkill (24 page)

My heart stops.

His mouth is close, closer . . . and then . . . then we are kissing.

Feather-soft, his lips brush mine. Brush them again. I let go of his shirt, place my hands on his bare forearms. At the feel of his skin, something boils up under mine.

I lose my thoughts, push forward, bite down on his lip. He makes a sound that weakens my knees. Then his hand is running into my hair. He grasps my plait in one fist, slides the other hand to the small of my back and pulls me closer, kissing me like I'm air and he's drowning. Heat simmers and rushes through me, making my head spin. We press together, a bonfire searing through our clothes, everything wrong and impossibly right at once.

He breaks away with a ragged breath. “We can't.”

“I know.” I lean forward again.

He grabs my arms and holds me back. “You don't have to tell him yes. I can get back to the cabin—”

Footsteps echo through the Storages hall. We break apart as the door swings open. I lean down and start examining the dry stores, and Kane reaches up to a shelf above him.

“You two find what you need?” Sister Lucy peers into the dim pantry, wiping her hands on her apron. She steps in and heads for a barrel on the far side.

“Got it.” Kane grabs an empty crate from the shelf. “I can finish up, Sister Emmeline.” His eyes are wide, and he jerks his head at the door.

“Good.” I keep my voice low to control the shake and push to my feet. “I'm needed at Soeur Manon's.” I head for the door but have to brush past him. My shoulder bursts into flame where we touch.

I risk one last glance back at his face. That look in his eyes . . . I put a hand on the doorjamb to steady my legs before I leave.

IN MY DREAM, I'M STANDING AT THE BASE OF
the tree-dotted hill. A group of Watchers is standing at the crest. The hawk circles high above.

The trees around me shift and lose their leaves, become gleaming white bones, reaching for the twilight sky. A rush of breath whistles through their skeleton fingers.

Find us.

I turn my head and see her. Running through the trees toward me, a blur of blue among the bones, long dark hair whipping behind her.

And then I see the Watchers raising their hands to their shoulders, grabbing for their weapons. I try to tell her to go back, to hide, but my tongue is frozen and I can't move.

Gunshot shatters the woods, and the shriek of the hawk echoes my silent scream.

In the morning I prepare for my visit to Brother Stockham. Kane said I didn't have to tell him yes, but he's wrong. No
one's going to be let outside the gates without Brother Stockham's say-so, and my dreams are telling me I don't have much time.

I watch my pa over our porridge bowls, focusing on that tremble in his hands as he scrapes his bowl. I don't want to tell him. Can't bear to see him full to bursting at the news when it's not the truth. It makes me angry and sad, his joy over this thing I don't want. This thing I'll never accept.

But it won't look natural if he doesn't know first.

“Pa.”

He sets down his bowl, wiping at his whiskers with the tail of his
ceinture
.

“Going to see Brother Stockham.”

His eyebrows raise.

“Going to accept.” I have to look at my hands when I say it. Don't want to see his happiness—his relief.

There's a silence.

I glance up. He's studying me. And the look in his eyes isn't what I figured. It's not relief—it's . . . concern.

“You sure?” he asks.

Am I sure? He's been coaxing me this way for weeks, he's been guilting me into accepting Stockham, and
now
he wants to know my heart? Anger surges through me.

“Course,” I say, sharp.

He nods. “Just want to be certain it's what you want.”

“You said yourself it's for the best.”

“I did.”

“You said sometimes it's hard to see what's best.”

He nods.

“So why are you asking now?”

“I just—” He scrubs a hand through his beard. “I said those things because I didn't want you to think you weren't good enough for our leader.”

My wrath dies, like a candle being snuffed. “Beg pardon?”

“Because you are, Em. You're good enough for anyone. Didn't want you thinking you couldn't accept on account of”—his eyes go to the table, to my foot beneath it—“anything that worries you.” He looks me in the eye. “You're worthy, my girl.”

My heart drops into my stomach.

“But I'm real glad, if you're sure.”

I can't get any words out. I just nod.

He clears his throat. “I'd best get to the smoke house.” He stands and sets his bowl in the dish bucket. When he passes the table, he stops and puts a hand on my shoulder. He squeezes it real gentle, and disappears out the door.

I stand, shaky, and head to my room. My eyes are hot with tears and my thoughts are muddied. Can it be true? Was my pa just worried I wouldn't accept even if I wanted to? All those times he was looking on me with that worried frown . . . I push it all from my mind—don't have time for all of that now. Now, accepting Brother Stockham's proposal is the only way back to the truth. I swallow hard, brush and rebraid my hair, put on a clean tunic and my winter cloak. I hide my grandma'am's ring inside my
ceinture
. It's strange, but I feel like having it will give me strength today.

As I approach the Council building, though, I feel a panicky sickness.

I stop a minute and think on the courting visit.

We can change things.

Brother Stockham has been hiding that journal, hiding the fact I'm not Stained, yet he practically urges me into the woods. I know agreeing to our binding will get me what I want. But that alone makes me feel like I'm missing something. Something right in front of my face. And now, with my pa telling me he doesn't mind if I don't accept . . .

Brother Jameson appears at the top of the steps to the Council building. I pick up my pace. Can't be caught standing here like I don't know my own mind.

His arms are folded over his chest, his face stony. “Sister Emmeline.”

I offer him the Peace and try to keep my voice steady. “Morning, Brother Jameson. I'm—I'm here to speak with Brother Stockham.”

“Ah, yes. The proposal.”

I nod and move to climb the stairs, but he grabs me by the arm. He pulls me close and bends low. “I suppose you believe binding to the good Brother will make people forget about your Stain?”

I swallow hard and tear my arm away. “I suppose you'll do your best to keep reminding them.”

His voice gets deadly. “It is my duty to keep this settlement safe.”

I raise my chin and meet his ice-blue eyes.

“Brother Stockham cannot see you for what you are, Emmeline. But I do. And when you repeat the mistakes of those Waywards who have gone before, I will be here. And I will set things right.”

I climb the stairs, feeling his eyes branding my back as I go.

Inside, the wooden building is quiet. But the silence here isn't comforting like the quiet of the riverbank. Here, it feels sickly.

“Emmeline.”

I near jump from my skin at Brother Stockham's voice. He appears in the doorway to my right. His long, dark hair gleams in the light, sharp points against his cheekbones.

“I was relieved to hear you are well.”

I swallow the fear that rises in my throat.

“I visited.”

I nod, hoping I don't look as owl-eyed as I feel.

“At first I was very worried. But then I realized that everything is happening as it should.”

“Beg pardon?”

He smiles. “You can't be lost to me.”

That strange look in his eyes is back, just like when we were at the ceremonial hall. I need to say my piece before I lose my nerve. I force my tongue to work.

“Brother Stockham, I'm here to discuss the proposal.”

He sweeps an arm toward the room behind him. “Come in.”

I follow him into a room that has a big table sitting before two windows. The windows have shutters but no scrapedthin rawhide to cover them, like in our quarters. I venture closer to peer out. This room overlooks the courtyard. I can see the Kitchens beyond the weapons shack.

“How is it possible you have had the fever for days, yet look just as beautiful as ever?” His speaks from behind me.

I put my fingers to my lips. They feel swollen from yesterday. From Kane. I turn, find him watching me careful. My
tongue gets wooly in my mouth. I need to get this over with. But the way he's looking on me—Almighty!

I train my eyes on the floor, hoping it looks modest, and say, “Brother Stockham—your proposal. I'm . . . I'm real glad to accept.”

The silence that follows is not what I was figuring on. When I look up, his head is tilted. My heart thuds in my throat. Twice. Three times.

“Emmeline, I—” His voice sounds caught.

I feel a wash of panic. Mayhap he doesn't believe me. I force a slow smile at him.

His face lights, mirroring my smile. “This is very good news.”

I can't bear to linger in this moment. “You'll talk to my pa about the arrangements, I suppose?”

“At once. We will be the first to bind, after Affirmation.”

I look at the desk, trace a finger along it, preparing to ask my favor without seeming suspicious.

He speaks again. “You don't know how much this means to me.” The honesty in his voice throws me. He hid the truth about my grandma'am.

I swallow.

Didn't he? Is it possible he hasn't been out to the woods, hasn't seen the journal? Is it possible it was someone else out there?

I force the words out: “And me.”

He smiles. “I knew we would overcome our family burdens.” My eyes fly to his shoulder, to his clean white shirt that hides the mess of scars beneath. His father's teachings. My insides twist.

What have I done?

He clears his throat. “I will spread word.”

A flash of movement on the steps catches my eye. I force another smile and turn to look out the window. Kane is standing on the steps, speaking with Brother Jameson.

I've seen this before. Yesterday, before I joined Tom at the ditch, Kane was with Council. And before that, when I was with Andre in the weapons shack, he was with Council then too. I was so skittered by finding the cabin I didn't think too long on it.

I'm thinking on it now.

Why would a common south-quarter boy have Council's ear? And Jameson's, no less.

With effort, I force myself to turn to Brother Stockham. “Brother Stockham—”

“Please call me Gabriel.”

“Gabriel,” I say. The name feels strange on my tongue. “I'm needed at the hall for preparations.”

“Of course.” He steps back, smoothing his tunic. “I will escort you out.”

His hand is hot on the small of my back as I pass through the doorway, but my thoughts whirl. Kane on the steps, with Jameson. Brother Stockham in the woods.
I don't go to the woods.
A thought bursts through the chatter in my head: the reason I'm here. “Broth—Gabriel, I have a request.”

“Of course.”

“I was wondering if I might go back to the riverbank once more, before
La Prise
sets in.” He stops dead. I speak quick. “I know I'll need to be real careful, but it'll just be the once. Just one time before I can't see it again until the Thaw.”

When he turns to face me, that strange look is in his eyes again. “I thought you would ask,” he says.

Ice crawls up my spine. And now I know that look: it's exhilaration. The hair on the back of my neck rises.

He presses a kiss onto the back of my hand. “Of course you may. I will alert Council.”

I am about to turn away when he takes my arm. “Emmeline, this will change everything.” He holds my gaze. “Thank you.”

I nod, my breath tight. Then I turn and hobble down the steps. Brother Jameson is gone; Kane is disappearing around the side of the weapons shack.

I risk a glance behind me, but Brother Stockham has shut the doors.

Walking as brisk as my leg allows, I head for the shack. I don't want to be in view from the Council building windows. I let out a near shout when I get round the corner. “Kane!”

He's halfway across the courtyard already, but when he turns, his eyes go wide. He crosses back toward me.

“The barns,” I say, when he gets near. “Make an excuse to leave chores.”

I don't hear Kane approach, but his shadow stretches onto the wall in front of me. My heart thuds in my throat.

I turn. He approaches with a sure stride, but I hold up a hand to stop him. “You're with Council an awful lot.”

He looks around the courtyard quick, then he grabs me by the arm and pulls me into the barn. It's empty; the sheep are out for tick grooming before
La Prise
.