Page 50 of The Seeker
“Debussy,” she said softly. “She likes this one when she’s sad.”
“What do we do? Are there spells you know? Have Roch and your father—”
“We wait.”
“How?” He was incredulous. “She was in terrible pain. Surely there is something—”
“We have tried all the magic we know. And I know a lot. Some broken things cannot be mended, Rhys.”
He shook his head. “That’s not acceptable.”
“Come with me.” She took his hand and led him out to the garden. “We’ll make some tea and wait for her in the garden.”
The womanwho emerged from the cottage looked older than Sabine usually did. She carried the weight of memory in her eyes. It was both painful and welcome. It likely wouldn’t last long, but for the next few hours, maybe even a few days, Meera could see Sabine as a peer and a friend.
“Meera.” Sabine sounded exhausted as she sat with Roch next to her. “Roch told me you were here with a friend.”
“Thank you for seeing us,” Meera said. “This is Rhys. He’s an archivist from Istanbul.”
“Istanbul.” Her eyes lit up. “How exotic. I’ve never been out of Louisiana, though my father often talked about my going to Paris before he died. Have you been?”
Rhys nodded. “It’s a beautiful city. You would love it.”
Her smile was sad. “Roch said it wasn’t so bad this time.” She gripped Roch’s hand like a lifeline. “Was he being honest or kind?”
“Honest,” Meera said. “It wasn’t so bad. Nothing broken.”
Sabine looked at Rhys. “I can always depend on Meera to be honest. She’s good at honesty. I hope you appreciate that.”
“I do,” Rhys said.
“You trying to say I lie to you?” Roch teased.
“No, but you’re too kind.” She squeezed his hand. “I saw the window. You should leave me. This isn’t any kind of life for you, taking care of me like this.”
He shook his head. “Only life I want.”
Sabine closed her eyes and shook her head tightly.
“Stop,” Roch said. “We’re not talking about this right now. I think Meera has some ideas about finding her.”
“Who?”
“The Wolf,” Roch said. “Rhys is helping her.”
Sabine frowned. “I thought he was coming to be her mate. Did I misunderstand what Patiala said?”
Rhys’s eyebrows went nearly halfway up his forehead, but he said nothing.
“I must have misheard.” Sabine laughed. “I’m sorry. This is awkward. My memory is so bad.”
“It’s fine,” Meera said. Dammit. Now she’d have questions to answer later. “But Rhys does have some questions about the Wolf.”
“She saved my life,” Sabine said. “Most of the time I’m grateful, but not always. After the Grigori attacked, I ran from the city, but none of the villages I knew had anyone left alive. I’m sure you know why. I took a boat out to the bayou.”
“What kind of boat?”
“A pirogue. What the fishermen use. I didn’t know much about the swamp—I was raised in New Orleans—but I’d heard the older people talking and knew that there were still Irin in the swamps. I thought maybe…” Sabine shrugged. “It was probably a foolish idea, but what else was I to do? No one was left. I didn’t fear death, I only feared being alone. If there were Irin anywhere, I was determined to find them.”
