He gave her a wide grin as he bobbed his head and left the room.

Selene gathered her dress and held it to the side as she took a seat on the bench. Mist gathered along the windowpanes, coating the glass with condensation. Karl coughed softly behind her, then took up his spot by the wall.

She frowned as she leaned forward and held her chin in her hand. What did Father Dominick mean? Had the Light given him a glimpse of her future, much like how the dark priest had warned her mother of the threat from the north? What did he mean that she would be a strength to Damien? How was that possible when they weren’t even speaking—not since she had shared about her gift?

Her chest tightened at her last thought. It wasn’t that she had spent a lot of time with Damien since their vows, but he hardly spoke to her now. He was never at dinner, and she barely heard him at night on the other side of the door. Then again, she was sure he was busy. Between the assassination of House Vivek and their escape from Rook Castle, no doubt the Great Houses had been thrown into disarray and were ripe for an invasion by the Dominia Empire. The Damien she knew from the assembly was most likely working fervently to form a fledgling alliance before the empire appeared.

All the while, she sat alone, day after day, reading what she could find, and wandering the castle, looking for purpose.

And I will continue to look. She set her lips resolutely. For the sake of those I left behind. And because I want to know . . . who is this Light?

Minutes later, there was the rustle of robes and the aromatic smell of tea. Selene glanced over to find Cohen carrying a wooden tray bearing an earthen teapot and two small cups. He placed the tray down on the table and took a seat on the bench on the other side, almost knocking the tray over with his knee.

His face turned bright red, almost matching his robes as he tucked his legs under the table, bumping the table in the process. “I apologize. I sometimes have trouble with these long legs of mine.”

Selene gave him a reassuring smile. “There is no need to apologize.” Cohen looked nothing like the other monks. He was tall and gangly, with unruly hair and a boyish face. Perhaps that was why she had felt so comfortable around him ever since they left Rook Castle.

He lifted the teapot and poured the tawny liquid into one cup then the other. “Here you go. This is Brother Sammus’s special blend.” He held out the tiny cup, the size of which he could have easily palmed. Selene took the cup between her fingers and blew across the top, savoring the warmth as it spread across her hands.

“We are honored that you came to visit our abbey, Lady Selene. Is there anything we can do for you?”