Once Was: Book One of the Asylum Trilogy by Miya Kressin Page A

hips to legs that seemed to never tire. I was still watching as Cade set a single plait atop the fireplace mantle, wrapped around the base of a crystal vase. “This one, I shall keep as a bit of magic to bind you to your home.” Work-worn fingers brushed over it in a loving manner. “May you always come back to the home of your heart, Roseen. Madani is in your blood and soul. Keep it as your secret home, even when traveling.” His request, or perhaps it was a prayer, echoed his question from years ago. He was willing to sacrifice everything just to have my heart.
    “Is that a prayer, Cade?” Even in our hushed voices amid crackling logs on the hearth, I could hear the alcohol-induced brazen tone.
    “You’ll hurt in the morning, Rose; but nay, that is not my prayer. My prayer is that you are happy. Wherever you may roam to, I wish you every happiness.”
    “With you?” I questioned.
    “Aye . . . Nay.” He paused to swig mead from the bottle, then wiped his lips upon the back of his wrist. “If you were happy at my side, my delight would be felt for several days’ walk from here. But, I must say nay because I want your happiness above my own. I’m selfish enough to desire you to be with me, but I have a martyr’s heart and am willing to love you even if you cannot return that.”
     
    *
     
    I was unsettled.
    Tumultuous and treacherous emotions cavorted through my heart with no regards to the desires I’d felt just two days before. They symbolized the metamorphosis overtaking all that described me as a priestess and as a woman. In moving away from the woman who would follow her own heart regardless of the repercussions to others, I was becoming someone I wanted to be.
    My spirit analyzed my decisions and allowed my brain its chance to voice a complaint as I learned to follow not just my heart, but also my conscience. No longer could I blame Liand’s poison for the things I chose to avoid. I could not say I was a priestess yet run from its responsibilities. That one was the hardest to stomach as I ate the breakfast Cade left for me.
    I washed my plate as I finished chewing on the crust of the loaf. Wishing for a small cup of tea, I checked the hot water kettle that sat among the embers of the fire and was pleased to find it still full of hot water. My pleasure ebbed as I recognized the battered metal. The copper bottomed pot had been swiped from my kitchen. We would discuss that later.
    Cade was still hammering away at another sword or filling an order as I closed up his one-room cottage and slipped into my parents’ home to change my clothing into something more appropriate for Madani. The tea warmed my stomach with each sip, contrasting the cold morning breeze that had ruffled my hair during my short walk. I felt naked without my long hair; the weight lifted from my soul as well as my head.
    I dug through two wooden chests of clothes before finding something that would fit me. The cotton shift of my mother’s was snug in the bust but loose everywhere else;it would suffice. An old dress I had left behind on a prior trip gave me the look of belonging in the city. With the cut hair, bangs covering the faint marking on my forehead, and the long gathered sleeves, I could almost pass as an uninitiated.
    Those who knew me well would recognize me for who and what I am, but the new faces would look over me as a widow or daughter seeking asylum from the war. They don’t know me, but they will. I will not seek asylum; I will bring it. I will free them from this shadow. Bas’ priestess has taken up Her battle claws. I will fight for them.
    Lost in my thoughts of what I must do after answering my calling on Sheelin, I did not notice the absence of sound coming from the forge. I was up to my elbows in a box of discarded stockings in an attempt to find ones with less holes, when a throat cleared behind me.
    “Not that I don’t appreciate the view, Roseen, but I think the townsfolk might have a problem if you go out