Blackmoore by Julianne Donaldson

Chapter 20

Present Day

The birds flew high, crying and wheeling, drawing me back from my reverie. I watched their shapes until they settled back into their roost at the top of the next tower, and I thought of how to answer Henry’s question.

“Those are rooks, you know,” I finally said, nodding up at the top of the tower. “Rooks claim a place as their own, and they stay there for centuries. Generations ago, rooks were here, haunting this tower. The offspring follow the habits of the parents.” I watched the birds settle, then fly again, then settle with another round of cries. “They do not question, do they?” I took a deep breath. “But I do.”

I looked at Henry now and found his gaze on me. “That day you rescued me from the river ...” He nodded. “I was running away from my mother that day. She was in town, with a ... captain ... of the militia.” I blushed and looked away. Even in the dark, I could not look at Henry and tell this story. “She was ... indiscreet. I saw her. I heard what they said to each other. He called her a kitten.” I spit out the word with distaste. “His kitten.”

My hands trembled. I folded my arms tightly across my chest. “It was the first time I had witnessed such a thing. I daresay I had been blind before, or too naïve. But I saw it that day.” Henry was still and quiet beside me. “I am not like her, Henry,” I whispered fiercely, clenching my hands into fists. “I am not.”

“I know,” he said, his voice quiet.

Something calmed within me at his words. He knew. He knew. I breathed. My limbs stopped their trembling. We stood in silence for a long time, until the wind blew a chill through me.

“Is that all?” I asked. “Is that the secret you wanted to know tonight?”

“Yes. That is all.” Henry picked up the lantern and I followed him to the trapdoor. But before he began the climb down, he turned to me and said quietly, “Thank you.”