Awaken Read Online Free Page B

Why was the thought of never being able to find that place again so heartbreaking, when she had run from it as though chased by the devil himself?
    Gottreb gestured to a battered chest in the corner of the room. “Look in there for my pouch and take a shilling for the goodwife.” His face was suddenly sly, and his rheumy eyes blinked rapidly. “And there might be a penny in there for you, if you would do an old man a little favour.”
    Feigning ignorance, Myrina went to the chest and opened it. Although the pouch lay right on top, she took some time getting it out, knowing her face was already pink with embarrassment. “I’m afraid I can’t stop tonight to do any more for you, Master Gottreb. Perhaps another time.”
    The old man sighed, but didn’t pursue the matter. “If you come another time, I will tell you the story of the missing prince.” The old man’s voice was eager, the words rushing one upon the other. “I’m so lonely here, and the company will do me good.”
    With her back still to him, Myrina took out the shilling for the goodwife and returned the pouch to the trunk. “I’ll try,” she said, and meant it, for then she could ask him about the glade as well. Bidding the old man goodnight, she left him and stepped out into the twilight.
    All around her the night seemed to hum and sing. A full harvest moon was rising, blood red, behind the trees. Suddenly frightened for no reason other than the lingering yearning twisting in her belly, Myrina began to run. She would be safe at home with her mother, out of the woods.
    Yet no matter how fast she ran, the sensation of a dangerous, uncontrollable something chasing her would not subside, but followed, snapping at her heels, the entire way home.
    When Myrina pushed open the door to their cottage, her mother was dozing by the fire, head slumped to her chest, the flickering light and shadow emphasising her frailty. For a moment Myrina simply stood, letting her gaze take in every line of the beloved face, the once-strong hands now almost bird-like in their delicacy, the small lump her body made beneath the quilt.
    The click of the latch as the door swung shut woke the sleeping patient, who looked up to smile at her daughter.
    “Ah, you’re home,” whispered her mother, in a soft breathless voice. “You’re later than I expected.”
    Myrina turned away to hang up her cloak on a peg by the door and to hide the sudden flame of her cheeks. “Goodwife Harbottle asked me to deliver the woodsman’s provisions, and it took longer than I thought.”
    “Hmm,” was the sleepy reply. “I’m glad you stopped for a while with Gottreb. He must be lonely by himself so deep in the woods.”
    Wanting to change the subject, Myrina asked, “Did you have some of the soup I left you?”
    “Oh, yes. And I’ve already taken my nightly draught.”
    Myrina glanced into the pot hanging over the fire and knew if her mother had eaten any, it was only a mouthful. But although words of remonstration rose to her lips, she swallowed them back down and simply said, “That is good, Mama,” before helping her mother to ready herself for bed.
    The moon had risen fully by the time Myrina climbed the ladder leading to her little attic room and was so bright she blew out her lamp and undressed by the silvery light. Clad only in her shift, she stood at the window, trying to sort through the disparate emotions—fear, disbelief, desire, shame—all churning together in her heart.
    Out there, somewhere, the glade would be bathed in moonlight. The magical circle of trees stood guard. The spirit or faery who spoke in that deep, thrilling voice was there, waiting for her. How she knew that, Myrina could not say, but it was a conviction that grew and widened until the pull of his voice, his passion, was almost too strong to resist.
    “No good will come of this, Myrina Traihune. Best to forget—go on as though it never happened.”
    The whispered words held no weight and floated away like