Page 89 of Nightshade

“And you are better for it.”

“How so?”

He slammed his fist against the keys of the organ, sending an awful clatter through the room that forced Lustina to cover her ears. “Do you know what happens now? I get sent off to war, the first chance he gets. He has waited for this day for so long.”

“Why? How could he do that to your mother? The woman he loved?”

With a bitter snicker, the baron turned away from her entirely. “Could any man who loved his wife stand idly by as she lay dying? Not I. I would have called on all the forces in the world to restore her health. I would have tried. Used every resource at my disposal.” The anger in his voice seemed carefully subdued, as if he held back the rage inside of him. “I would have saved her.”

“Then, you are a better man than your father.”

He glanced over his shoulder and scoffed. “And what do you know about the goodness of men?”

Lustina lowered her gaze, still fidgeting with her dress. “I actually knew nothing about their goodness until I met you.”

“If you think I’m good, then you are a fool.”

She had to remind herself not to take offense. It wasn’t so long ago since she’d lost her own mother, that she couldn’t remember the bitterness and anger. The resentment she’d felt toward the world. “I do not fault you for your words. I understand this pain. This anger. I have felt it for many years.”

“How could you know what I’m feeling? Your mother was a witch.” The instant the words fell from his lips, a look of remorse and pain claimed him. Yet, he kept on with his hurtful words, and Lustina graciously held her tongue, allowing him to unleash his rage. For she knew, if it remained kettled inside of him, it’d have the potential to explode into violence. “If you felt as I do about your own mother, if you sympathized with her, at all, then perhaps you are a witch, also.”

She bit back the tears from his accusation and lifted her chin. “Whether a witch, or an angel, a mother’s love is the same. Do not let this pain change your heart, My Lord. She would not have wanted that for you.”

“Do not proceed to tell me what my mother would have wanted. A few chance encounters with her does not make you privy to her wants and desires.”

“I did not have to know her more than a few chance encounters to know she was good. So rare and good, her absence will be met with unfathomable consequence.”

His eyes sharpened, like that of a predator. “Says the girl whose mother burned at the stake. Is this one of her ridiculous prophecies? Perhaps she was better off.”

It was then that Lustina realized he’d gone too far. Reached into depths of irrational pain, that she couldn’t possibly save him at that point. She lowered her gaze to hide the tears that slipped down her cheeks. “My mother may not have been extended the grace of a Christian burial, but I loved her no less than you loved yours. And if that makes me a witch in your eyes, then you are as blind as everyone else.” She turned to walk away, but felt a hard grip on her arm.

“You do not walk away from me. Ever!” His anger had reached a level on which she’d never seen before, his eyes as black as that day in the woods. No longer the grieving boy she cared for, but a terrifying threat.

Twisting her arm, she fought against his steel grip to get loose. “You do not touch me as if I am your possession. Ever.”

“That is exactly what you are!”

With some effort, she finally broke free of his grasp. “I will never belong to anyone. Least of all you!”

He lurched for her, but one of the pentashes entered the cathedral, and both of them came to an abrupt halt.

“What is going on here?” the pentash asked, her gaze flitting from Lustina to the baron.

Taking a step back, the baron seemed to gather himself, perhaps for the first time in the last few minutes. He cleared his throat, his eyes a calm blue once more. “Lustina was just … offering a comforting word.”

The false confession tore at her heart, knowing she hadn’t comforted him, at all. In fact, he’d have likely been just fine, if she’d left him alone to play the music his mother had loved so much.

“My Lord, your father asked me to fetch you. He and Bishop Venable would like a word with you.”

The baron nodded in a way that looked like defeat to Lustina, and without another word, he slipped past her.

29

Farryn

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound reached my ears through the void, and I opened my eyes to the dark bedroom. The tree outside frantically shivered, its spindly branches like fingers tracing over the glass. Wind had kicked up, wheezing at the pane like night’s dying breath.