The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses) (81 page)

BOOK: The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses)

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Justin was actually smiling. “Well, then. You can go back to Danalustrous by yourself. I’ll agree to it.”

Kirra could feel herself crying again, nothing like last night’s wracking sobs, but stupid, mindless tears that seemed mixed of equal parts joy and hope and rue.
He has not left me. Donnal has not left me.
How could he love her still, how could he forgive her? What did she have to offer him when she was not sure she would ever be whole enough to love again? And nothing had changed between them—they were still serf and serramarra, titled lady and peasant’s son. But he was her shadow and mirror; he defined her, he gave her back her image of herself. She could not be complete without him no matter what course her life took, whatever form she held.

She gripped Cammon’s shoulders and shook him, still crying, starting to laugh. “Why didn’t you tell me, you wretched boy?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me Donnal had not left?”

“I thought you knew! You never said!”

She groaned, clutched him tighter in a quick embrace, and released him. “I will never understand the way you think.”

She turned for Justin, but Cammon grabbed her sleeve. “You’re coming back, aren’t you? Soon?”

“Sometime,” she said. “I don’t know when.”

“Don’t be gone too long.”

She kissed his cheek. “I won’t.”

Justin caught her in a bear hug before she could think if she would shake his hand or kiss him on the cheek or merely speak a farewell. “We’ll come after you if you don’t return,” he growled in her ear. “Don’t be gone too long.”

“I won’t,” she said. “Watch out for everyone while I’m away.”

She pulled free and gave them both a blissful smile. She felt herself glowing. That was happiness, or perhaps euphoria, or at least an understandable reaction to the thought that
this
time what she’d learned wasn’t bad news. She extended her arms, her fingers gathering into neat points, and tilted her head skyward, closing her eyes. Sunlight played along her cheekbones, her throat, laid a golden weight on her outstretched hands. She felt her whole body contract in response, grow smaller, lighter, elegant and deadly. She was a creature of wings and talons and swiftness and hunger. Eager to fly away.

She opened her eyes and made one sharp, gruff good-bye to the men standing there, earthbound and a little sad. But she was not sad at all. She beat her wings mightily against the heavy air and lifted herself aloft, weightless, windblown, a bauble of feathers and heat. It felt good to drift in one lazy circle above this cloistered compound of men, feel a surge of affection for everything, everyone she left behind, while feeling no compulsion whatsoever to stay. She flapped her wings to gain altitude, canted her body to change direction, and set her beak directly into the wind blowing gently from the west.

She had not traveled more than a minute when a shadow crossed her from above, then dropped to her level, settling in on her left just a wingspan away. She did not cry out a hoarse welcome, did not even glance over in his direction, but she knew he was there, silent and familiar, knew he would accompany her for every mile of her flight. The morning passed and the afternoon fell away from them and evening stretched up to meet them as they flew without stopping, straight on for Danalustrous.