Selfish Is the Heart Read online

  Either way, Cassian knew enough to be impressed. Most Seekers were turned away as many times as it took to discourage them. Most never made it to the Motherhouse.

  But this woman had, and as her gaze fell upon him, he waited for her to hesitate before passing. She did not, much as she hadn’t paused upon their first meeting. By the time she reached him, he’d ceased the slow and careful motions of his hands and arms and had come to rest.

  “You,” she said.

  “Me.”

  She looked beyond him, across the field and the low stone wall separating it from the yard, past the stables and to the Motherhouse itself. She looked tired, but not too tired. One night spent sleeping rough, perhaps two, but no more than that. He might’ve underestimated the length of her journey. Her boots and the hem of her gown bore the stains of dust and grass. When she pushed back the hood of her cloak, her hair proved itself in need of a thorough brushing but her face had been recently scrubbed. She lifted her chin. Here in the light of the morning Cassian could see what had been hidden from him in the forest shadows—this woman’s eyes were more than pale, they were crystalline, the color of ice made faintly blue. Against the darkness of her skin and hair, her eyes were even more startling.

  “Shall I bother to ask you if yonder mansion is the house I seek, or would you set my foot upon the wrong path again?” Soft anger tinged her voice.

  Cassian couldn’t help recalling the less formal tone she’d used with him upon their first meeting. It had suited her better, along with the tease of amusement in those spectacular eyes. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for adopting a more formal stance today.

  “Is it the wrong path if you end up where you wanted to be all along?”

  She didn’t answer right away, and when she did, her voice was pitched low. “Seek you to test me on philosophy?”

  “A question only.” He blew out a breath and scraped his hair back from his face, thinking it was time for another cut.

  She looked him over, and again he was struck by her utter lack of self-consciousness in dealing with him. He, a stranger and a man, should have earned at least a slim margin of respect, if not fear. Of course, she had no idea who he was. He wondered if it would matter when she found out.

  “Should I have called it the longer, then, instead of the wrong? It would be the same result, would it not?” Now her eyes narrowed, the dark, sleek brows furrowing. Her mouth thinned. “You deliberately misled me.”

  Cassian shrugged. “And yet you found your way.”

  She studied him. He waited for anger or accusation, but none came. Instead, incredibly, the woman dismissed him with a sniff and turned on her heel so suddenly she tore the grass from the earth. She gathered her skirts and flipped up her hood. Then she set off across the field toward the Motherhouse.

  He watched her for a moment without following and deliberated if he should, but the morning sun had already moved in the sky and he would be late for classes if he lingered. He had yet to bathe and eat and was reluctant to relinquish either pleasure in the face of a long day in front of students who ranged from giddily distracted to purposefully inattentive. He caught up to her in the length of three strides and fell into step beside her.

  She twitched a glance his way, the motion of her hooded head telling him of the look rather than any sight of her eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Walking beside you.”

  She stopped in front of the low stone wall that did nothing to keep anyone in or out. “Why?”

  “Perhaps we have the same destination.”

  She turned to fully face him. “Perhaps? Or certainly?”

  An uncommon smile tried to tug at Cassian’s mouth, the feeling of it so rare he at first didn’t recognize it. “Perhaps certainly. If your goal is to reach that large house ahead, then indeed, but I’m certain I wouldn’t dare presume to speak for you.”

  The woman huffed before clamping her lips tight. She softened them with an obvious effort. “I believe you would presume a great many things, sirrah, not the least of which would be . . . obfuscation.”

  He blinked at the term, then shrugged. “Mistress, I assure you, I happen along the same path out of convenience, not malice.”

  “I should believe that? After what you did yesterday?”

  “You may believe,” Cassian said after the barest pause, “whatever you wish.”

  “Answer me this. Why lie to me? Why deliberately send me down the wrong path? The longer path,” she amended when his mouth opened on the same answer he’d given her before. “To what purpose?”

  “Perhaps I’m a trickster.”

  The hood shaded her eyes but he felt the weight of her gaze just the same. “No,” she said after a moment. “I don’t believe that’s true.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head. From within the depths of the hood he caught a glimpse of her mouth, curving now into a smile. Cassian stepped back at the sight of it.

  “It was a test, was it not? To see if I’m worthy, or some such thing? Yes?”

  In all the years he’d been with the Order, from the dozens of young women who came seeking service and whom he’d had a part in dissuading, Cassian had never been asked that question. They all figured it out, of course, or were informed of their passing upon their first meeting with the Mothers-in-Service. But not a one of them had ever asked him about his part in it.

  “I’m right. I can see it on your face.” She laughed.

  Cassian scowled and turned away. “You see nothing on my face.”

  Incredibly, her hand reached to snag his sleeve, and this action so surprised him at first that Cassian didn’t pull away. “Oh, but I do. Right there in the furrow between your eyes and the way you tried to keep from smiling just a few moments ago. I’ve surprised you, haven’t I? I can see that, too.”

  “Mistress,” Cassian said coldly, “I will thank you to unhand me at once. Your exuberance is . . . unseemly.”

  “Your mercy,” the woman said without a speck of sincerity in the words. She let her fingers slide from his sleeve. “I suppose they’ll expect a natural decorum, yes?”

  “What you lack naturally will be trained into you.” Cassian stepped back to give her a half bow. He had no more appetite, no need to follow her inside. She’d thoroughly unsettled him.

  “Ooh, sounds delicious. I can scarce contain my excitement.”

  By the Arrow, the chit was flirting with him. Cassian’s scowl deepened. “I’ll leave you to find your own way inside.”

  “Are you certain? I might have need of an escort,” came the retort, completely devoid of anything resembling respect, “lest I stumble and struggle upon my way. Would you care to remind me which direction I am not to follow, sir? I’d hate to think I’m depriving you of one last chance to send me astray.”

  “I’m fair certain you’ll have no trouble finding the front door. Good day.” Cassian turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the back kitchen with her bedamned laughter trailing him all the way.

  It was amazing how a simple mug of tea and slice of fresh bread, a piece of fruit and a quiet room could make the world a brighter place. Hours before Annalise had woken in a dingy hovel in despair, and now she breathed in the soothing scents of gillyflower oil.

  “More tea?” The woman sitting across the desk from Annalise had introduced herself as Deliberata, one of the Mothers-in-Service. “I’ve an entire pot.”

  “No, thank you . . . Mother.” Annalise tripped a bit on the title. This woman, with her long, sleek braid and high-throated gown, was as far from Annalise’s frilly, fluttery mother as any woman had ever been.

  “Very well, then.” Deliberata sat back in her chair and folded her hands on top of the highly polished desk. She watched Annalise without speaking.

  Annalise had already shared the details of her “vision.” There must be more for her to say, but she wasn’t going to spout out a bunch of nonsense simply to fill the space between them. She’d already undergone a test of