Page 32 of Nightshade

“Who is he? What’s so significant about him?”

“He resides in Nightshade. Something of a pariah.” He popped a grape into his mouth and closed his eyes, as if to focus on its flavor. “He keeps company with the Fallen, and there are rumors that he trades souls to them for favors. The locals are terrified of him.” He chuckled and tipped his head back, plucking another grape with his teeth. “They fear he’s Death, if you can believe that. Wretched little souls don’t even realize they’re already dead.”

Which was another question I would’ve asked. “Is he human?”

“I wouldn’t know. Not many know much about him, at all. For the most part, he remains withdrawn, reclusive. Living in a cathedral on Blackwater Cliff.”

“Did my father happen to tell you why he sought him out?”

“Nope.”

Eyes screwed shut, I let out a sharp exhale. “I need to go there. To Nightshade.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking. Go home. Go back to a life that makes sense. Forget about this.”

“My life never made sense before.”

“And nothing will make sense afterward. My answer is no.” He strode back to where the feather still lay beside the bonfire and swiped it up, handing it back to me. “We are done here. Go home, Farryn Ravenshaw. Pursue what makes you happy. Leave this alone.”

11

Lustina

Lustina gathered the last of the soiled rags lying about the floor in Lady Praecepsia’s room, and stuffed them into the wicker basket. Of course, she hadn’t been permitted inside the room during the ceremony to see what they’d been used for. Such a thing was considered sacred, and Bishop Venable wouldn’t have allowed her presence. Instead, she’d listened from the other side of the door where she’d been instructed to sit and wait, and all she’d heard were the hushed voices of prayer, and the sniffles of Lady Praecepsia, who’d seemed to be brought to tears.

“Does he treat you well?” The Lady’s weakened voice spoke to her from where she lay on the bed, eyes half-mast and skin covered in a fresh sheen of sweat. “The bishop?”

“As well as can be expected, My Lady.”

“I imagined you’d say that.” A sound of amusement lightened her tone. “You never speak ill of him, do you?”

“I would never, no.”

A tired smile stretched her face. Even weak and ill, she had an unearthly beauty about her. “I can tell you are a kind girl. I have an … intuition about people. I thought the same of your mother.”

Lustina glanced back at the door that remained closed, beyond which Bishop Venable spoke quietly with Lord Praecepsia.

“You liked my mother?”

“I was in terrible pain when she came to me. And afterward, I felt no pain, at all. Her ability to heal was remarkable.”

“It was.” The girl smiled, daring herself to step closer to the bed. “Once, when I was young, I suffered a terrible fever. There were horrible nightmares, and my whole body ached all the way to my bones. She stayed by my side the entire night. Every time I woke, she was there to offer something to drink and a cool cloth to my brow.” Smiling, she recalled the memories fondly. Could still feel her mother’s soothing hands on her skin. “I woke to sunlight and the chirping of birds the next morning, and my fever had subsided. She always made me feel better like that.”

“Your mother didn’t deserve such a cruel fate.”

The smile on her face faded, and she lowered her gaze. “Bishop Venable said she carried an evil inside of her.”

“Strong women will always bear the dangerous burden of a weaker man’s pride.”

Although she was young, Lustina was wise enough to understand the Lady’s somewhat cryptic words and nodded. “I hope you are well soon, My Lady.”

“I stopped hoping a long time ago. These days, I long only for peace.”

“Then, if that is what you most desire, I hope you find that, also.”

“Someday. For now, I fight for the sake of my son.”

“He’s also ill?”