Page 210 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
And just like that, I was tempted to go with him. And stay. To run away from curses, betrothals, and the weight of the world I might rule. Corsets, smallpox, and misogyny were hardly a deterrent when I’d be with Pete. And we’d be free.
So much for being selfless.
“You’d hate it there,” Pete chuckled, reading the temptation through my eyes. “You’d be expected to be demure and meek—a proper lady.”
I sneered at the prospect. “How boring.”
“Indeed.”
I folded my arms. “I could just say I’m a war widow. Didn’t they have license to speak their minds and act a bit—unladylike?”
“Mm, aye.” Imagining me in his time had brought his twinkle back. “But only the aged widows. You, being so young—you’d be thrown to a frenzy of suitors like chum and expected to bear sons until your youth and vigor dried up like a prune—or you died in childbirth.”
Awesome!
“Ugh, you’re right. I’d hate it.”
“Unless, of course, you found a lenient husband—able to overlook perpetual guff, disobedience, and a fiery tongue.” His grin looked delicious, like devil’s food cake. “A husband like that might shield you from the worst.”
He was only teasing me, I knew. Yet I so wanted him imagining himself as that lenient husband. Because I sure as hell was.
Pete cleared his throat, changing the subject. “Might you grant me a brief catnap before you reclaim my hut? Sleep was brutal last night; tree apes heckled me through the skylight next-door.”
Then why did he shine like a brand spanking new penny? Was that Eden’s doing? Did the water here make you look as well as feel refreshed?
“Hm. So, you need a nap because of tree apes? Not because of the pitcher of cider?”
“I’ll admit, the cider isn’t aiding my fortitude.”
I chuckled.
“I shouldn’t need more than an hour,” Pete promised, his strong fingers plucking something out of the pocket tied by his hip. He held the item aloft, earning my shock. “Why don’t you take this useless frippery to the hot spring down the trail past the privy? Give it a listen while I catch a wee kip. If I’m not up and about by the time you’re back, you have my permission to shove my arse out of bed, for I don’t mean to be dossing while there’s work to be done.”
My mind leapfrogged over all his Irish speak to focus on my MulBerry. MyactualMulBerry. “Where did you get my phone?”
“Is that what this is? Morus gave it to me.” Pete handed me the smooth plastic device. I marveled that it looked and felt exactly as I remembered, for it seemed like forever since I’d last held it. “Said he didn’t want it anymore with you likely to throttle him over it.”
My thumb swiped across the tiny keypad and pressed the power button on its side. Was it too much to hope my battery wasn’t dead? Or had Morus drained it like a total dick?
When the screen lit, I whooped, “Ohmigoddess! It works!”
“I told Morus it had better.” Pete tightened his pocket strings. “For his own sake.”
“Oh, wow!” I wagged my screen at Pete. “I have 29 voicemails! And 44 texts!”
He didn’t pretend to know what that meant. “I take it that’s a lot.”
“Yeah.”
He waved me on. “Head down to the hot spring, take a dip, and do whatever it is you do with those infernal things.”
I saluted him with said infernal thing. “See you when you wake up!” I called over my shoulder, then scurried down the sandy path, lightning bugs lighting my way.
Pete
Astranglingknotformedin Pete’s innards as Shorty scuttled off in those ridiculous boots, her hair aflame amid the greenery—happy and free as Danu had made her. As she would remain, Goddess willing.
He clenched his fists, compelled to follow her. To the springs. To the end of the world. But he turned toward the warden’s hut to gather his belongings. And to say his farewells to Sionna.
