Chapter Six
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Halfway to the bathroom—and the mirror there—Emma steadied herself on the back of the sturdy wooden chair, pushed it forward again, and hopped to it on one leg. Every thump seemed to echo through the house.
She stopped and listened. Only silence met her ears.
Half an hour ago, Ben had checked that she had food and water, and made sure the disgusting commode was close to the bed. He’d left to get groceries, but would be home all too soon. This was her only chance.
Oh, Goddess, she hurt. Every jump jarred her leg so badly her clenched teeth were probably going to fracture.
It was better though. Really. Today her leg only throbbed as if a dwarf was thumping the wound with a giant hammer. Uncomfortable, yes, but far more tolerable than when her imaginary torturer had used a knife.
She sighed. Couldn’t the pain stop? Just for a little bit so she could have a break?
Break. Cute, Emma.
She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. At one time, she’d loved playing with words. Only when alone though. Her mother believed a child should be silent. Very, very silent. Moreover, when allowed to speak, her manners had better be impeccable. She half-smiled. Her mother’s training had been effective enough that the master bard had teased Emma for being too shy and reserved. Those weren’t common songster traits. Now, she was so unused to being around people that speaking aloud at all was difficult.
But she certainly hadn’t forgotten how Daonain were supposed to treat a banished shifter. No one should even acknowledge her presence, let alone speak to her, yet they had.
And, oh, it was wondrous to hear other shifters, to smell their scents, to be spoken to. She’d found herself singing little tunes under her breath. Still…no one had commented on her scarred face or even looked at her strangely. She hadn’t said anything, either.
What if they suddenly comprehended she’d been banished? What if they kicked her out before she could walk again? Why hadn’t they noticed the banishment scars? The long, black scars along her jaw could hardly be invisible, could they? She could feel them, after all.
She needed to see them.
She eyed the distance to the bathroom. Maybe seven gut-wrenchingly painful hops. She could do it; she had to know.
One hop. Her teeth gritted together.
Ben would growl if he found her out of bed. He’d been so concerned. No one had ever treated her as he did, as if she was important. When she’d been hurting, he’d read to her to take her mind off the pain. He brought her treats to tempt her appetite. By the Mother, he’d brought her chocolate ice cream. Just the memory made her smile.
Although he’d looked frustrated at the way she’d evaded his questions about her past, he hadn’t growled. However, she had a feeling he hadn’t given up.
Another hop.
The Cosantir hadn’t returned to question her. Ben said he’d gone into the mountains to the territory’s Elder Village and wouldn’t be back for a couple more days. Reprieve.
Another hop.
Another.
A few minutes later, she leaned on the sink, gulping, and trying not to vomit. Agony roared through her body. Cold sweat ran down her back.
Eventually, she wiped the tears from her face and pulled in a slow breath. Anticipation and dread filled her as she leaned forward to peer into the mirror.
She blinked.
It had been three years since she’d looked at her reflection in…anything. How gaunt she’d grown. Her wavy, light hair was longer and almost reached her butt. Her face was awfully pale.
Enough stalling. Her fingernails dug into the sink enamel as she turned her head and angled her chin. The light shone on her lower cheek and jaw, and on the thin, white scars from a werecat’s claws.
White. She felt as if she’d run into a tree and knocked the air out of herself.
The scars weren’t black. But marks of banishment were always black…unless…the Mother forgave a shifter and erased the darkness.
Emma ran her fingers over the healed wounds. When had the thin scars changed from black to white? They’d never felt different from one day to the next. It could have been any time, since she’d never looked, not even in the lake when bathing. To see the black of a Cosantir’s Judgment staining her skin would have sent her into a depression from which she’d not have recovered.
For all she knew, she might have been forgiven a year ago. Two.
Her fingers traced over the thin scars as she stared in the mirror. She was forgiven. No longer banished or shunned.
Slowly, then faster, exhilaration filled her like a spring flood, washing everything clean before it. She couldn’t stop touching the scars. The beautifully white, white scars.
Had she ever seen any shifter who’d returned from banishment? She couldn’t recall. Did healed scars from a banishment look different? Maybe no one would know she’d been banished.
Maybe she could live with her own people again.
Hope swelled in her heart, so painfully she had to wrap her arms around herself to hold it in.
Could she stay here in Cold Creek? Find something to do? Maybe…maybe even sing?
“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” Ben’s deep bass filled the bathroom as he stopped in the doorway.
Hopping away from the mirror, Emma tripped and fell backward.
He closed strong hands around her waist and caught her easily. His chuckle was a low rumble as he said, “Sorry, li’l bear. I didn’t mean to scare you.” With no evidence of exertion, he scooped her up and carried her to her bed.
“Um, thank you.”
“Not a problem. Just don’t do it again, or Donal will bite my head off.”
“Right.” As he swept the covers over her, she looked around. “Did I ever mention how beautiful your room is?”
His gaze took in the furnishings. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to do better. But you’re lucky. Aside from my bedroom and this one, the rest of the upstairs is still being restored. Two weeks ago, you’d have been bunked down on the floor.”
“I’d have been fine.” She laughed. “Floors are softer than caves.”
He stilled, surprise in his expression, and she realized she’d never laughed. She’d been so worried about people’s reactions, expecting someone to tell her to leave, that she hadn’t been able to relax.
But her scars were white. No one knew her here, so far from the Mt. Hood territory. No one knew she’d been banished.
Mother’s forgiveness or not, she didn’t deserve to live among the clan, and she shouldn’t, but how could she not savor this boon for a little while? Hearing the rumble of Ben’s voice, smelling his faintly wild shifter scent, seeing the warmth in his eyes…she felt like a parched desert plant greedily embracing the first drops of rain.
Her mind was made up. She’d stay as long as they’d let her.