Den of Wolves by Juliet Marillier

Author:Juliet Marillier [Marillier, Juliet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2016-08-11T04:00:00+00:00

25

~Cara~

He’d left her at Winterfalls again. And this time people hadn’t even pretended they were pleased to have her there. Mhairi had lifted her brows and tightened her lips. Aedan the steward had been perfectly polite, but had seemed to have his mind on other things. It hadn’t helped that Father had blamed them, blamed the entire household, for not noticing she’d run away until quite late in the day. She’d got them all in trouble. For nothing. Her plan had been a disaster. Father hadn’t wanted to listen to her, even though she’d done her very best to find the words and get them out. He wasn’t interested in why she had done it. He just wanted to get rid of her again, even though in the night time when Gormán and Grim had brought her home he had hugged her and wept over her and told her he loved her. By morning that softness was gone, and she had found herself mute again. He hadn’t even let her go to the barn to say goodbye to Gormán and to thank Grim.

Then there was the other thing, the thing that had happened after she fell down that hole. An accident, people had said. But it wasn’t an accident. A tiny voice had led her in, made her take one step too many. She hadn’t even tried to tell Father about that. She might have said something when they’d hauled her out of the hole, something only Gormán or Grim would have heard. She’d been dazed and exhausted, not watching her words. She didn’t think she’d told about the truly scary part, when those things had swarmed toward her as she climbed the rope, tearing her skirt with their claws. She’d lived that over and over last night in her dreams. Those tales that pictured the Otherworld as a place of delectable treats, of flowery meadows and pretty beings with gossamer wings, had it all wrong. If it hadn’t been for the birds . . .

‘Cara?’

She flinched. Mhairi was at the door. And the cross little dog. Cara could hear its claws tap-tapping along the floor. She’d thought she would be safe in the prince’s library. With Prince Oran and Lady Flidais both away, who else would be in here?

‘Mistress Blackthorn’s here to see you,’ Mhairi said. ‘Come, Bramble! No dogs in the library.’ The sound of the door closing.

‘So, you’re back.’ Mistress Blackthorn’s voice was a little strange. She sounded as if she had a cold. But at least she didn’t talk as if Cara were a wayward child. Nor was she all soft sympathy and foolishness like some of them: Oh, you poor thing, lost in the woods all by yourself, as if she was weak and useless.

‘I’m back.’ Cara lifted her head from her folded arms and looked at her visitor. Blackthorn’s eyes were red. Her face looked puffy. ‘Are you all right, Mistress Blackthorn?’

The healer came to sit opposite Cara at the long work table. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she retorted.

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