Up in the Sanctuary, Jane had no idea how much time had passed, was passing, whatever. It could have been ten minutes or a thousand years, and she had the sense she would feel the same. In this respect, minutes in this sacred place seemed to be like its horizon, having no beginning and no ending: No matter how far she walked, she never seemed to be able to get to the forest ring that encompassed the landscape. Every time she thought she was finally going to go into it, everything double-backed on itself and spit her out at the opposite side with the trees to her back. It was enough to make her crazy.
Her forest-green eyes shot back to him. Dont you dare deflect this onto me. I wasnt the one making a date with someone else.What I did was wrong, I admit it. But I didnt follow through on it. I couldnt. And even though thats no excuse—
Damn right its no excuse! Youre a liar now. Youre a liar forever to me—Without warning, a truth came out of him. My mother is dead. Have you noticed that? Have you stopped to think about that at all?She was momentarily nonplussed. What does the Scribe Virgin have to do with this?
Vishous shook his head slowly. You never once asked me how I felt. You never even asked me how I found out she was gone.Jane looked away again. Swung her eyes back. I didnt think it bothered you. You kept going like it was nothing. You hated her.
You never asked, is the point.
Jane rubbed her face with what looked like exasperation, scrubbing, scrubbing. Vishous, listen, you are not the easiest person to read, and you dont do emotions. Its like youre blaming me for one of your core characteristics. How was I supposed to know—Youre not using the right brush, he said, his words devoid of emotion.
The paintbrush, he reiterated, pointing to the one in her hand. Its the wrong size. It will take you twice as much time to cover the same area with that smaller brush. Use the other one, the bigger brush, but be sure and give that one a thorough cleaning first.Did he seriously think shed just leave it thick with paint? Cassies back was as straight as a telephone pole. I happen to like this smaller brush. It fits perfectly in my hand and applies the paint smoothly and evenly.
Steve stared her down, but Cassie refused to blink. The truth was she really didnt have a preference, but she refused to let him think he had the upper hand.Have it your way, then.