Old Magic(61)

I laugh and toss her the rough towel. ‘Allow me to be your chivalrous knight. You go first.’

She stares at me for a long moment, waiting.

‘What?’

She begins waving at me. I get the message and turn around. When I hear water splash on to the floor I turn back. She is submerged all the way to her chin. Her hand goes straight to the amulet that is now floating in water. I understand the gesture, having felt for mine several times during the day. It’s our link home, something we have to protect, no matter what.

While Kate bathes I examine the wildness of the ocean through the open window. Waves pound into solid rock far below. It reminds me of the time we lived at a beach-side caravan park on the south coast of New South Wales. Dad had a friend who ran a fishing business, and who gave him a job on his trawler. You couldn’t see the ocean from where our rented van was, but the sound at night was all you heard. Mum was pregnant with Casey, and Dad was away every night. But the job only lasted only a couple of months as their catches were the worst on record and Dad’s friend had to sell the business.

Tonight there’s no moon, at least not yet, but I can still make out the foamy white tips like little sailboats rhythmically tacking to shore. The familiarity of sound, scent, even the taste of salt wafting up this high is somehow comforting. Finally, Kate finishes her bath, dries herself and gets into bed, running fingers through her hair.

‘Your turn,’ she says, doing up the last button of her gown right up to her throat.

I get behind the bath, which comes to about waist level and strip off. Kate has taken so long with her bath, my own bath water is barely tepid. Still, I enjoy it. Who knows when I’ll have the luxury of another. I don’t think these people bathe every day, probably less than once a month. There’s no soap, so I have to scrub hard at the caked-on mud.

I finish bathing and slide on the long white nightshirt. My limbs are sore and tired and the bed looks comfortable and very inviting, especially with Kate in it. This thought, after the incredible day, has my head spinning. And suddenly all that amused bravado I had shown earlier, disappears on me. I wouldn’t mind being able to probe inside Kate’s head for a change, see, feel, exactly what she’s feeling. But I can’t do that, so I’m left guessing. My instincts tell me she wouldn’t mind if I tried to kiss her, but she’s acting so modest-like, I don’t know what to make of it.

It’s perfect timing, for as soon as I slip into bed, Glenys and Morgana return with two male servants. They take some time, but eventually empty the baths and remove them. The maids clear away our clothes, lay clean ones out on a wooden chest for us to wear in the morning. Just before they leave they stoke the fire and extinguish the rush lights.

Finally, we’re alone. Completely. Especially considering the location of this specific room, isolated high up in the tower. I glance at Kate. She’s curled up as far on her side of the bed as possible without falling out. ‘Kate.’

‘I’m going to sleep!’ she snaps.

My jaw falls open. Hey, what does she think? That I’m going to … to … What? Try to …?

Annoyed at her attitude, I roll far to the other side. Even though I’m sore and tired and mentally drained, sleep doesn’t come easily.

I can’t take my mind off Kate.





Kate



I don’t know what Jarrod can possibly think of me now. What an idiot. I find myself playing the terrified virgin maiden role. It’s not anything Jarrod’s done. It’s me. And where we are. In bed together! My feelings for Jarrod are pretty intense, but I don’t trust he can return these feelings. At least, not yet. So I’m wary of taking a major step towards intimacy. If we kissed or anything, would it stop there? I don’t quite trust myself, especially considering we’re alone up here, and well, living in circumstances where we’re actually playing a married couple. And here, now, in this time and place, it isn’t right.

Besides, I don’t want to end up a teenage single parent. My mother was, and couldn’t cope. What if I couldn’t either?

So I pretend to sleep, which doesn’t happen for a long time. I’m on edge anyway, sleeping in the tower where Lionel and his young bride, Eloise, once slept. Something sinister happened here, and I can feel a strange energy pulsing eerily from the dark castle called Blacklands. This pulse is like a slow heavy beat in my chest, totally synchronised with my heart. And I’m pretty sure no one else feels it. Jarrod surely doesn’t. And this freaks me out. Who lives there? Morgana said it was a man named Rhauk. Could he be the illegitimate half-brother with sorcerer powers?