Castle of the Winds (The Secrets of Ormdale, #3)

by Christina Baehr

“Rusalka? Are you all right?” At the sound of the familiar voice, my heart jumped. I yanked open the door. Concern was creasing Janushek’s scarred face. At that moment, I truly thought it the nicest face in the world. I burst into tears. He shut the door and put his arms around me. I couldn’t speak. I could only sob into his crumpled collar, which smelled distinctly but not unpleasantly of ale, pipe smoke, and sheep. “Please, can you take me home, Janushek?” I managed. I couldn’t bear the idea of a night alone at the inn. “Yes, yes, of course, tonight, if you wish. Do not worry. For now, just cry.” I don’t think I’d ever been told to cry before in my life, but it was excellent advice. I felt as if my spirit was slowly returning to my body—perhaps guided thither by the sound of my sobs.