I loved my church, but being confined to it sucked dishwater. Up in the belfry, I shoved the last of my spell books onto the shelf with enough force to threaten to knock over the freestanding bookcase I’d found there. Adrenaline struck through me, and I reached for the nicked mahogany wood to keep it from tipping. Catching it, I exhaled, glad Ceri wasn’t back from her search for spelling supplies to see my sour mood. Misplaced anger born in guilt accounted for most of it, and as I stood and tucked my complexion amulet back behind my shirt, I resolved to let it go. I wasn’t going to go see Quen. It might have been a trick, it might not have. I wasn’t going to risk it. It was a good decision, but I wasn’t happy with it, adding credibility to my new philosophy that if I didn’t like a decision, it was probably a good one.

Thunder slowly grew, rolled, and died, echoing against the surrounding hills that sheltered Cincy to fade into the soft, hissing rain. Exhaling with a deliberate slowness, I sat on the edge of the elaborately carved fainting couch to rest my chin in my cupped hands and look over the small, sparse space. My blood pressure started to drop as the sound of the rain became obvious, shushing against the shingles and dying leaves. The small, hexagon-shaped room had a feeling of open airiness and smelled like coal dust, which was odd seeing as the building had been constructed long after coal was abandoned as fuel.

I’d gotten home before sunset, and guilt had pulled me across the street to Ceri’s to apologize. When Marshal and I had gotten back to my mom’s, he had seemed relieved to get in his truck and drive away, pensive and deep in thought, and I vowed to back off lest I turn into a needy wanna-be-your-girlfriend twit. I wasn’t going to call him, and if he didn’t call me…it would probably be for the best.

My intent in visiting Ceri had been to apologize for losing my temper and to make sure she was okay. That, and to dig for information about Quen’s condition. She was going to see him tonight but said she wanted to teach me how to make a light before she left. It was probably her way of apologizing, seeing as she couldn’t say the words. I didn’t care if she said them or not, knowing they would come out when the hurt I’d caused her eased enough.