C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N The spidery diagram swam on the page, and Raisa’s eyes practically crossed as she forced herself to focus. Earthwork fortifications used against pirates along the Indio after the Breaking. She faced yet another test in history of warfare.
At least the term is almost over, she thought.
Pushing her book aside, she glanced around. It was almost dinnertime, but the common room was empty save for her. This was Amon’s only night free of obligations. Raisa meant to intercept him and have an actual conversation. He’d been less available than ever these past few weeks. Almost furtive.
Speaking of furtive. Lifting the blotter, Raisa pulled a few scribbled pages from underneath and reviewed what was left there.
Mother,
Please know that I am well and safe, and I hope this finds you well also.
I know you were under considerable pressure in the days leading up to my name day, and that you truly believed that a marriage to Micah Bayar was the best way to keep me safe.
After reading it over, Raisa scratched through a marriage to Micah Bayar and substituted the marriage you had planned for me.
That way, if the letter fell into the wrong hands, it might have been from any daughter or son who had fled an unwanted marriage.
I beg you to consider that what seems safest may turn out to be most dangerous. It may be that the danger you saw coming was the marriage itself—a danger to me, and a danger to you as well.
I long to come home and present my case in person if we can find a way to do that safely. I will get this letter into my father’s hands somehow, and hope that he will get it to you. If that should happen, please keep it among us three. There has been one attempt on his life already.
If we begin a dialogue, perhaps we can work out a way for me to come home, which is what I want most in the world. Though it may be selfish, I can’t help but hope that you are missing me, as I am missing you. Please know that I love you, and while love may not be sufficient to heal the breach between us, it is a place to start.
Hallie and Talia came stomping down the stairs, and Raisa pushed the letter into her carry bag.
“You coming to dinner?” Hallie asked. “I hear it’s ham and cabbage.”
“I’ll wait for Corporal Byrne,” Raisa said. “And walk over with him.”
Hallie and Talia looked at each other. “I’m not sure he’s coming to dinner,” Hallie said, rubbing the side of her nose with her forefinger. “I think he has plans.”
Plans?
“Come with us,” Talia urged. “We’ll go out somewhere after. Don’t be a hermit.”
Some undercurrent in their speech set Raisa’s teeth on edge.
“I’ll be over in a few minutes,” she said lightly. “Save me some ham.”
They walked out the door with many backward looks, their faces set and anxious.
A few minutes later, Amon descended the stairs. He wore his dress blues, with creases in his trousers and his hair neatly combed off his forehead. He nearly stumbled when he saw Raisa, but kept his feet and continued to the bottom.
“Hello, Amon,” Raisa said. “You’re looking handsome.”
He looked down at himself, then tugged at the hem of his uniform jacket to straighten it. “Right. Well. Thank you.”
Raisa pushed up out of her chair and went and stood in front of him. “I hoped we could go to dinner together, maybe have a chance to talk. I never see you anymore.”
He stood frozen, like a schoolboy caught out in a prank, his gray eyes fixed on her face. “We’re both busy, Rai. It stands to reason that we wouldn’t—”
“Let’s go to dinner, then,” Raisa said, taking his hands in hers.
He swallowed hard, the long column of his throat jumping. “I can’t. I…have something I need to do.”
Raisa’s instincts screamed that persistence would lead to heartbreak. But she couldn’t help herself. “I’ll come with you, then. And, after, maybe we—”
“No,” he said. “Not tonight. I—we can’t.” He looked as miserable as she’d ever seen him.
“But it’s your only night off.” Raisa knew she sounded desperate, and didn’t care.
He nodded. “I know. I’m…sorry,” he whispered, his face pale and strained.
Raisa cast about for something—anything—that might change his mind. That might make him stay. “Well,” she said, swallowing down the dull ache of longing. “Then take this with you, and think of me.” She kissed her first two fingers, then, standing on tiptoes, reached up and pressed them against his lips.
Seizing her wrist, he pressed her hand against his cheek, smooth from recent shaving. He closed his eyes, took two shuddering breaths, and let her go.
“Good-bye, Raisa,” he said, his voice thick and unfamiliar. “Go on to dinner. I’ll be back late.” And he was gone.
Raisa stood frozen for a heartbeat, then grabbed her cloak and slipped out the door, following after him.
Fortunately, the streets were crowded, packed with cadets heading back to the dining halls for dinner, or walking toward Bridge Street and the eateries there. Amon walked fast, so Raisa had to trot to keep up. Once, he swung around and looked back, but she managed to duck into a doorway.
Raisa soon realized that he was heading for Bridge Street, and when he started across, she hesitated briefly to tug her hood over her head before stepping onto the bridge. It was the first time she’d crossed it since the day she’d arrived.
Amon made one stop, at the flower seller’s on the bridge, where he bought a small bouquet of mixed flowers.
Raisa forced down despair. A voice in her head whispered, Go back!
But she didn’t.
Amon hurried on as if he knew the way, turning onto the quad that separated Mystwerk Hall and the Temple School. The winter-seared lawn bloomed with a mixture of red Mystwerk robes and white Temple garments. Raisa pulled her head back into her cowl like a turtle into its shell.
What if he goes into Mystwerk? Raisa thought. Crossing the bridge is risky enough. I can’t follow him in there.
But Amon stepped onto the stone walk that led to the Temple School, turning off to the entrance at the far right. In front of the heavy wooden door, he paused long enough to take a swipe at his hair, then raised the knocker and let it fall with a clatter.
Raisa had remained on the main walk, off at an angle, so she couldn’t see who came to the door. But Amon bowed at the waist and extended the flowers. Then he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
For a long moment Raisa stood frozen on the walk, unsure what to do next. The broad porch was crowded with dedicates and students, so she couldn’t very well go up and listen at the door. But perhaps if she circled around…
Fortunately, the ground floor was lined with tall windows and glass doors, spilling light into every room. Raisa crept along the perimeter of the building, between the shrubbery and the foundation, peering into every window. Though some were probably at dinner, Raisa saw dedicates and students reading, relaxing, doing stitchery, painting, playing instruments, and the like.
This is what everyone had intended for me, Raisa thought, fingering her dun-colored uniform tunic.
In the rear was a parlor, a cheerful fire in the fireplace and trays of cookies and sandwiches set out on tables. Amon was there, sitting in a chair by the fireplace, his back very straight, his hands on his knees. Across from him sat a girl in temple dress, dark-skinned and pretty, with masses of long curly hair—a Southern Islander. She clutched the nosegay in one hand, and every so often she raised it to her nose and took a sniff.
Two other couples shared the room, and a rosy-faced dedicate sat in a far corner, keeping an eye on the young lovers.
Amon’s face was in profile, but Raisa could see the girl’s shy smile and her large dark eyes, and hear the murmur of their conversation.
Any fool could see that the girl was in love with Amon Byrne.
Raisa’s eyes burned with hot tears. Was this possible? Honest, straightforward Amon Byrne was…cheating on her? She tried to ignore the voice in her head that said it wasn’t cheating if there hadn’t been a relationship to begin with.
You don’t lie to your friends, Raisa said to herself defensively. He’d gone out of his way to hide this from her.
And then, as if in a bad dream that turns into a nightmare, she saw Amon stiffen, squaring his shoulders under the blue wool. He slowly turned his head so that he was looking right at Raisa. For a long moment she was petrified, unable to move, and they stared at each other. Then, cheeks flaming, she dropped below the windowsill and scrambled backward like a crab, out of the shrubbery.
She stood upright and fled toward the front of the building. She’d gone only a few yards when a hand closed tightly around her upper arm, jerking her sideways.
Raisa twisted around to face another Southern Islander in temple dress, this one as unlikely a candidate as she’d ever seen. The multiple piercings in her nose and ears were pegged with silver. She clutched a wicked-looking knife in her free hand.
Even worse, she looked oddly familiar.
“Who you spying on, dirtback?” The girl gave Raisa a little shake.
“N—nobody,” Raisa said, trying to pull free. “Let go, that hurts!”
“I want to know who you are and what you…” The blade-wielding Temple student’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “I know you,” she said. “I seen you someplace.”
“That’s not surprising. I go to school here, too,” Raisa said, grabbing at dignity with both hands. “I just wanted to see what it’s like in the Temple.”
“You’re from the Fells,” the dedicate said, avidly studying Raisa’s face. Then her eyes widened in astonishment. “You was the girlie with Cuffs Alister. You the one walked into Southbridge Guardhouse after the Raggers.”
It was Cat. Cat Tyburn, the streetlord who had replaced Cuffs as leader of the Raggers. Alister’s former girlfriend.
It was no wonder Raisa hadn’t recognized her at first. Cat looked different—almost cared-for—like a weedy, thorny garden that some gifted gardener had taken on. Her eyes were brilliantly clear, not cloudy like before, and she’d put on weight.
What was she doing at Oden’s Ford?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Raisa said. Her mind flashed to her sighting of Cuffs Alister by the stables. Could there be a connection? It didn’t matter. She had to get away.
In desperation, she rammed her fist into Cat’s middle, hoping she wouldn’t get her own throat cut in the process.
Fortunately, Cat was distracted and hadn’t seen the blow coming. She crumpled, dropping the knife. Raisa took off running again, this time clearing the Temple close and the quad, and turning onto Bridge Street. She ran like she was being pursued by demons.