The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,91
lantern light, then squinted at Enzo. “Even if the magistrate offers you a fistful of coin?”
Enzo stared at the blade. His upper lip beaded with sweat and his hands still trembled, but his chin jutted upward in uncharacteristic courage. “He already did. Didn’t change my answer. I told him I didn’t know where Gwyneth went.”
“Lia? A moment?” Kaden nodded toward the dining room. We left Natiya to guard Enzo.
“I don’t trust him,” Kaden whispered. “He’s a greasy little weasel who traded coin for you once. He’ll do it again the minute we leave if we don’t quiet him.”
“You mean kill him?”
He answered me with a steady stare.
I shook my head. “He didn’t have to tell us he was the one who informed the bounty hunter. People can change.”
“Nobody changes that fast, and he’s the only one in Morrighan who knows we’re here. We want to keep it that way.”
I walked in circles, trying to think it through. Enzo was a risk, no doubt, with a proven record of unreliability, if not greed. But Berdi had trusted him with her whole life’s work. And people could change. I had. So had Kaden.
And for the gods’ sakes, Enzo was making stew. Stew. And there wasn’t a single dirty dish in the sink waiting to be washed. I turned to face Kaden. “Berdi trusts Enzo. I think we should too. And he still seems shaken by the farmer’s threats. If you have to brandish your knife a few times as a reminder, so be it.”
He stared at me, still unconvinced, and finally let out a long sigh. “I’ll do more than brandish it if he so much as looks at any of us sideways.”
We went back in the kitchen, and made sleeping arrangements. Natiya and I washed out clothing and hung it to dry in the kitchen near the fire, since time was short. We scoured the cottage I had shared with Pauline for more concealing clothing, turning up two loose work shifts and some shawls. I also spotted Pauline’s white mourning scarf. Natiya wouldn’t have to hide her face while in Morrighan, but I would, and nothing could turn away suspicion faster than respect for a widow. Kaden took care of the horses and then we all raided Berdi’s pantry, finding food to pack. From here on out, there would be no more campfires for cooking. As Enzo helped us pack our bags with food, I was surprised to hear braying.
“That’s Otto,” he said shaking his head. “He misses the other two.”
“Otto’s still here?” I grabbed the widow’s scarf and threw it over my head in case any of the boarders were about and ran out the door to the paddock.
I fawned over Otto, scratching his ears and listening to his complaints, each haw and whinny sounding like a note of music. It took me back to the day Pauline and I had arrived in Terravin, riding our donkeys down the main street thinking our new life here would last forever. Otto nudged me with his soft muzzle, and I thought about how lonely he must be without his companions.
“I know,” I said softly. “Nove and Dieci will come back soon. I promise.” But I knew my promise was empty, born only of convenience and—
Rafe’s words dragged through me again, a tangled line pulling me under to a place where I couldn’t breathe. I said what I thought you needed to hear at the time. I was trying to give you hope.
I turned away from Otto, my bitterness surging. Rafe had given me false hope and wasted my time. I walked inside the barn and stared at the ladder to the loft, then finally climbed it. The loft was dim, a few stray beams of light slipping through the rafters. Two mattresses still lay on the floor, never stored after our hasty departure. A forgotten shirt hung from the back of a chair. A dusty carafe was perched on a table in the corner. At the far end were stacks of crates—and an empty manger. My heart hammered as I walked toward it. Don’t look, Lia. Leave it alone. You don’t care. But I couldn’t stop myself.
I inched the manger forward so I could see behind it. It was there, just as he had told me, a pile of soiled white cloth. My tongue bloomed thick and salty, and the room grew suddenly stuffy, making it hard to breathe. I reached down and lifted it from its hiding place. Bits of straw