Chapter 7: Take Her Home

I was down the annex stairs before I'd decided to go.

Prue caught up with me in the cloister, her satchel bouncing.

"Is she really ill?"

"She's really in the snow," I said. "That's all I know."

"Then I'm coming. If she's faking, I want to see how it's done."

The courtyard was full of women who had heard the cameras.

The princess stood under the gate arch with her arms folded.

Alaric was beside her, bareheaded, his hands in his coat pockets.

He looked at my face and stepped aside without a word.

"You don't have to go out there," the princess said.

"I know."

"If you do, they'll print every word."

"Good," I said.

She nodded to the guard.

He unbarred the small door set into the great gate, the postern, and I ducked through it onto the moor.

The wind hit me.

Behind me, I heard Alaric's boots stop exactly on the line of the gate.

He didn't follow me out.

He just stood there in the arch, very tall and very dark, and let everyone see him stand there.

The reporters turned.

"Miss Ashdale!"

"Mrs. Kerne!"

"Wynne, over here!"

Gareth was kneeling on his fur rug by the brazier with Lavinia in his arms.

Her head lay against his chest.

Her gold curls had come loose over his sleeve, and her eyes were closed.

He looked up at me with an expression of tired, noble grief.

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