Page 184 of House of Roots and Ruin
Nothing.
Not even a twitch.
A sob ripped through me, tearing my heart in two.
“Verity! Look out!” a familiar voice cried.
I glanced up and my mouth fell open as, through a vision of tears, I spotted Camille.
She was standing at the threshold of the atrium, pointing behind me.
“Camille?”
I turned just in time to see Marguerite’s dustpan swinging at my head.
I woke with a startled gasp, as if being shaken awake.
The room was too dimly lit to be familiar. Long gray drapes were pulled over the windows and the gas lamps were lowered to a ghostly glow.
I couldn’t move at first, my body swaddled in a series of bandages and dressings. A cast plastered over one wrist, hard and heavy, and I could feel gauze wrapping around my middle, but there was oddly no pain.
Not yet, though I was certain it would soon come crashing upon me.
With my free hand, I reached out, searching for water.
There was a sharp intake of air from deeper in the room. Then, from within the gray void, movement.
“Verity? Are you awake?”
The mattress pressed down, as if someone now sat on its edge. I struggled to see who was there and when I did, my heart broke.
“Camille?”
She nodded, taking my uninjured hand in hers. “I’m so happy to see you,” she said, pressing a kiss to my fingers.
“Am I…am I at Highmoor?”
She shook her head. I’d never seen her so out of sorts before. Her hard duchess shell had chipped away, her hair plaited loosely down her side, and circles smudged dark beneath her eyes. “We’re at Chauntilalie, in one of the guest rooms. There wasn’t a good way to move you upstairs after…”
“What are you doing here?” It hurt to ask. My throat was impossibly dry and felt as if it had not been used in days.
“I…I found you. During the attack…don’t you remember?” She pushed back a wisp of hair from my face, her amber eyes dancing over me as she took in every wounded detail.
It seemed impossible to shake my head. “I thought I was seeing things. Why would you ever come to Bloem?”
She looked hurt. “Your wedding. I…I came a few days early. I wanted to…help you, however I could, and I wanted…I wanted to apologize and set things right between us.” Her fingers flexed around mine, holding tight as if to impart every bit of earnest truth she felt.
My eyes were far too heavy to remain open and I closed them, certain I was dreaming. There was no way Camille was here. There was no way Camille would be here, feeling remorseful and wanting to set aside our differences.
“I’ll let you go back to sleep,” she murmured, withdrawing her hand from mine, and my eyes flashed open.
“Are you really here?”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Of course I am.”
“You never sent a response.”
“I did! I did the second I received the invitation, I promise. They were beautiful,” she added, as though it mattered now. “I’d never expected you to choose something so elegant.”
