He scoffs as he turns, the moonlight catching his profile, his curling lip. “I really thought we were friends. I thought we were more than that.”
“More than friends? When you flinch if I touch you?” I struggle to keep my voice down. “Of course, it all makes sense now. The girl. The waiting. Why didn’t you say you had someone already? Though she can’t think much of you if you don’t even know where she is.” I know I need to stop talking but I can’t.
He whirls around to face me. “Is that what this is about? Is this your revenge because you and I… You think this is about a girl? This is all jealousy?”
“Of course not,” I laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “You’ve been nothing but clear about your feelings for me. You’re not interested.”
“No, I’m not,” he spits at me, silencing me. “Because I’m a monk, Errin.”
I stare at him, the impact of his words finally hitting me.
“You’re a monk?” I repeat, stunned.
He pulls my cloak from his shoulders and tosses it to me. In the light that glows weakly through the cow horn window, his skin has a faint golden sheen, the paleness washed temporarily away. He bends to pick up a tunic from the floor and the bones of his spine appear like stepping stones in-between and beneath the tattoos, vanishing under a thin layer of muscle when he straightens and pulls the tunic over his head. He looks like a creature from a story, from another world, carved of ice and gold.
“Yes. I am a brother of the Order of the Sisters of Næht.”
“I don’t understand.” I mean it in so many ways. He’s too young to be a monk, and too… Monks don’t carry knives and stalk forests. Monks don’t purchase poisons. Monks aren’t Lormerian alchemists with tattoos. Monks have tonsures, and bad breath. They’re old. Silas … he’s not a monk.
His left eyebrow arches. “What’s to understand? I took a vow, I’m bound to serve the Sisters of Næht.”
“Do you believe in the Gods?”
“No, of course not.”
“But then—” I stop, putting it all together in my mind. The Sisters, his alchemy, his smuggling. I test my theory again in my head, and then make my guess. “The Sisters of Næht are alchemists, aren’t they? Lormerian alchemists living in secret. It’s a cover.”
He shrugs, crossing his arms, saying nothing.
I recall what he told me about his parents. “Your mother is an alchemist?”
“No. She’s like you. Normal.” He says it as though it’s a bad thing, and it hurts. “My father was the alchemist. Alchemic blood breeds true.”
I take a deep breath, thinking it through. “So you’re not really a monk; it’s a disguise.”
He looks at me, his golden eyes fixed on mine. “No. I am a monk. I took a vow of fidelity to the Sisters of Næht. I swore to live my life in service to them, putting them above all others. I vowed to take no wife and sire no child whilst in their service. I am a votary, in word and deed.” He looks down at the floor and as soon as he does I allow my own face to fall.
“Oh.” My voice is quiet. “How?”
“How did I become a monk?”
“All of it,” I say. “How did all of it happen? Or can’t you tell me?”
I didn’t mean it to sound barbed, but his eyes flash, eyebrows rising. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more gracious in victory. What more do you want? Blood?”
“I meant…” I fall silent when he turns from me again to the window, dismissing me, as he lifts one of the slats, peering out. When he next faces me, his expression is wiped clean. “I want to understand,” I say softly.
“The knowledge you’re withholding from me is more important than anything else I could tell you. Understand that.”
I take a deep, shuddering breath and place my hand over my slowly cracking heart. “I’m sorry for this. I truly am. I wish… I wish it could be another way.”
His smile is one of bitterness, and it cuts me to the bone. “If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.”
My skin burns and I lower my head. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “I have to think of my family. My mother. I have to do what’s best for her. Surely you can understand that, given what you’re doing for yours?”
He remains silent, chewing on his lip, his arms still crossed. “You