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“Lupus,” she whispered.
9
OCLEAU
THE YEAR OF THE CURSE
MATTHIAS
Darkness cloaked the town; only a glimmer of the waxing gibbous cast light on the burial grounds. Ancient and broken headstones created ghoulish shadows along the length of the moss-covered ground. Earthy musk filled the air, paired with the smell of an overdue snowfall.
The night air was calm, yet Matthias was still chilled down to the bone despite his warm furs and leathers. He tucked his hands into his pockets and wished he had chosen a different time to meet. Midnight was safest, though, without the chance of someone overhearing.
The snap of a tree limb startled him from his thoughts.
Cloaked in a light brown hood, Ana stepped into the moonlight. Her curious eyes scanned until she spotted him, then she briskly maneuvered through the headstones with such grace that she appeared dreamlike.
The ghost of his past.
“I did not think you would come,” Matthias said. Shock rippled through his system. Shock that she decided to show up despite how outlandish his request was.
“I have nothing to lose by coming,” she told him, rubbing her arms with her gloved hands.
The lingering feeling of distrust Azalea cursed him with gripped him, despite his desire to believe her. “How did you avoid your husband?”
“He is away,” Ana admitted nervously. Her fingers entwined in front of her hips, clutching her skirts. “He will be gone for a week.”
Bringing up her husband was easier than he expected, leading to more pressing questions that he needed to have answered. “Before I say more, you must promise that what we discuss will stay between us,” Matthias said.
Ana unclasped her hands and grasped Matthias’s. “You can trust me.”
Matthias wanted to melt into her touch. Already the possibility of rebuilding what he lost seized his mind; Ana fit the part. However, her resemblance to his lost love meant she would be unsafe should Azalea discover her.
He already knew he wanted to protect Ana, to care for her, and to eventually love her. He knew she was looking for freedom, but he had one more thing she might want. “If this works, and you gain freedom from your husband, where will you go? You said you married to keep your land, a roof over your head, but without him—”
Ana cut Matthias off. “Does this plan of yours involve murdering my husband?”
“No,” Matthias told her, though it felt like a lie.
When Ana said no more, shifting on her feet as she watched him, Matthias continued. “Tell me what you want.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and the shared gaze warmed Matthias. Ana took a shaky breath, the air fogging before her. She pressed her gloved fingers to her lips, puzzled by the question; it was clear that no one had ever asked her what she wanted.
“To leave Ocleau,” she finally said. “To go far away from this place, maybe even see the world. I have been tied down here my whole life; I’ve lost everyone I have ever cared about here. I have no family left. I want it all behind me.” Her hands waved with her words when she spoke as though she plucked her desires right from the air, snatching them like fragments of a dream.
“You’ve left town. You’ve been further than its borders… Perhaps you could aid me.”
Her words were powerful and precisely what Matthias wanted to hear. Concern forced its way into his mind. Is this too good to be true?
He wanted to be part of her dream, and he could offer her the chance to escape—and a family—if she so chose. It meant betraying Azalea; if she even suspected Matthias planned to run off with Ana after she freed him from the curse, she would kill her without hesitation.
“Are you familiar with witchcraft?” Matthias asked abruptly.
Ana cringed at the thought, then replied sourly, “I know it can lead to death, either caused by the Craft or by those who disapprove of it.”
Her answer did not satisfy Matthias. “I also disapprove of it. I wish there was no such thing as witchcraft. However, my life depends on it now.”
Her shuffling to keep warm abruptly stopped, and she eyed Matthias curiously. She wrapped her arms around her body to prevent the cold from seeping in and stepped enough to touch him. She reached her hand up and placed it against his chin. Her smooth goat-skin gloves were warm, and he fought the urge to lean into the palm of her hand. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine her.
