Free Thief With No Shadow by Emily Gee

hand. He closed his eyes. Arnaul’s mother was dead now, but memories of her lessons were still strong: mashing cooked vegetables for Liana and stewing fruit on the wood stove, plucking and gutting a hen, soaking dried beans in water and cooking them until they were soft enough to eat.
    Quiet footsteps came down the corridor. Bastian stiffened and opened his eyes. “Liana.” He stood.
    Liana smiled, so like their mother in the candlelight that his heart skipped a beat in fear. Delicate, too easily broken by the psaaron.
    “You cooked.”
    “Yes.” It was impossible not to smile when Liana smiled. “It’s not as good as your—”
    She shook her head, half-laughing at him. “You taught me to cook, Bastian.”
    Because our mother was dead. Bastian stopped smiling.
    The laughter faded from Liana’s face. “What is it?”
    He shrugged and turned away. The wraith. The curse. The psaaron. He picked up his plate and laid it in the stone sink. “Another ewe died today.”
    “And the lamb?
    “Dead.”
    Liana sighed. When he turned to look at her, he saw shadows on her face that had nothing to do with night-time and candlelight.
    “How does your patient?”
    The shadows on her face darkened. “He’s very ill.”
    “But he’ll survive.” He knew the strength of Liana’s gift. He’d have lost a leg last autumn, perhaps died, if not for the quiet, wondrous magic she possessed. She had knitted flesh and bone and muscle, had staved off infection, had saved him.
    Liana clasped her hands together. “I don’t know.”
    “What? He might die?” Fear jerked beneath his breastbone. If that creature died, the bargain with the wraith was void. The necklace, the psaaron—
    No.
    Bastian inhaled a slow, calm breath. He smiled at Liana. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “Don’t worry. Here.” He pulled out a chair for her. “Eat. You must be hungry.”
    Liana shook her head. “I’ll take a tray. I should get back to—”
    “A few minutes.”
    Her headshake was firm.
    Bastian spooned food onto a plate while Liana fetched a tray from the scullery. “And this bowl’s for Endal,” he said, filling it high.
    “What about Melke?”
    Melke. The wraith had a name. He didn’t want to know it. “I didn’t cook for her.”
    “Bastian.” There was faint reproof in Liana’s tone.
    He clenched his jaw.
    Liana handed him another plate. He took it from her and slapped food on it, with no care for neatness. Let the wraith choke on the meal.
    Liana placed the plate on the tray, then she reached up and laid a cool hand against his cheek. “It’ll be all right, Bastian.”
    It was his role to give comfort, to say such words. He flushed, angry with himself, with the wraith. “Go eat,” he said brusquely.
    Liana smiled and removed her hand. She picked up the tray.
    “I’m going to Thierry tomorrow,” he said to her back. “The horse and cart must be returned.” And I need to see Silvia, need to forget for a few hours. “The storeroom...we need food. If there’s anything—”
    “I’ll write a list. Thank you, Bastian.”
    He nodded and watched her go. Market day. His disgruntled anger faded. He was aware of lightness in his chest, a quicksilver edge of anticipation. He’d be free of Vere for a day, free of responsibility and dust and throat-parching dryness. Freedom. With Silvia, he’d be able to lose himself in pleasure and forget the curse.
    The anticipation was laced with a familiar guilt. Bastian bolted the door to the yard and picked up the candlestick, while the anticipation congealed inside him and twisted into knots of shame. The secret he kept from Liana, the stolen moments of intense pleasure... He was a man and had a man’s need to lie with a woman. It was purely natural—so why did he feel guilt? Why did he hide it from Liana?
    Because I escape and she doesn’t.
    Bastian went to bed, accompanied by a sense of his own selfishness.

 
     

     
    CHAPTER THIRTEEN
     
     
    I T WAS FULLY dark when Liana