Chapter 9
NINE
THING
I glare my brothers down. Hannah looks unhappy but says, “Of course. I’m sorry. I should have allowed you to take dinner in your room.”
Then she turns and glares at Abaddon, too, not that he looks remotely remorseful. I want to do violence upon the fool.
Romulus at least keeps playing with baby Raven in his lap, the only one who knows how to mind his own business. Or is tactically minded enough to avoid the brewing fight.
I look to the woman who seems ready to flee our sight the moment she knows which direction to go and ask, “Would you prefer Hannah or I to show you to your room?”
“You,” she says immediately, surprising me. I would have thought she’d be more comfortable with her own kind, but my chest goes warm. Does that mean she does not see me as an enemy? Or just the most familiar enemy?
“Take your plate.” I gesture at the table. “You will need your strength tomorrow.”
She nods reluctantly, then reaches for her plate, holding it close to her stomach. I breathe out in satisfaction, knowing she will be fed.
Then she follows me out of the room.
Once we’re in the hallway toward the staircase, her soft voice says, “I hope your, er, sister-in-law knows I’m grateful for the food.”
I nod, feeling uncomfortable about everything that happened at the table.
I fear it only showcased my sometimes unspoken worries for Hannah-wife—ones that Abaddon can either not see or will not acknowledge.
She misses her own kind. It is not good for her to be locked away here with only monsters for company.
I am glad this woman will be able to escape our dreary existence tomorrow.
“So,” she breaks the quiet as I lead the way up the stairs.
I’m glad for the electric lights Romulus installed throughout; I can see through the windows—also newly installed—that it’s pitch-black outside.
I shudder to think of her earlier, wandering in circles.
If she had continued in the darkness which falls so early in winter. . .
“Is there actually somewhere safe to sleep? By a fire?” Then she repeats, “Safe, with a door? Maybe one that locks?”
My heart clenches in my chest.
It is not fair, or even possible, to make penance for all the sins I have committed against humanity by helping this one human. . .
But still, I will not let harm come to her.
This one, at least, I will protect.
“Yes. A room with a door that locks. Follow me,” I say.
I move up the stairs two at a time, then worry I am moving too fast. But when I pause to look behind me, the woman is at my back. So I turn around and continue to the third floor. My floor.
It is the only place I can think of where she will be safe.
I’d like to think she would be safe with the rest of my family. But I know Abaddon still believes she is working for the enemy, and Remus is a wildcard with his own agenda.
No, it is best if she is here where I know she will be left undisturbed. I’ll keep watch to ensure it.
We finally arrive on the third floor, and I lead her to the first door.
I’ve been working to furnish the floor I have claimed for my own.
As I enter the room, I point to a long couch.
I crafted the base from a tree trunk I planed down, and Romulus brought soft cushions back with his latest supply run.
“You can sleep there. The door can be locked, and I’ll take watch outside so you can sleep in peace. ”
I watch the bunched tension in her shoulders relax slightly at my words. This makes me very glad. I want her to have a comfortable, restful night’s sleep.
“There is a bathroom through that door, there.” I point, and she nods.
Nothing left to say, I head for the door to take watch in the hallway as promised.
As I am about to step through the doorway, her quiet voice pipes up, “Thank you.”
I pause, a little taken aback. “Um. Well. Okay.”
Then I step through and close it behind me.
The lock flips. Moments later, I hear furniture being dragged into place to block the door. It wouldn’t do much to stop my brothers, but she doesn’t need to know that. That’s why I’m here.
The night passes quickly, as do most things now that I have been freed from the endless eternity of being locked up in the dungeon.
Dawn breaks through the window at the end of the hall before I am quite ready. Because the dawn means she will leave. And this brief blip of beauty and change in my monotonous existence will be gone again.
But that is better for her, so I breathe deeply to calm myself and startle when I catch his or Remus’s scent in the air.
What? Where is he? He kept talking about the woman as if she were his consort. I should have taken his foolish talk more seriously!
I’m about to tear open the door to check on the woman when the door suddenly opens from the other side.
I blink, surprised. She was very quiet about moving the furniture back, but there’s no trace of Remus in the room. I sniff and catch traces of his scent again. When was he in my room? Was I so blinded by her scent last night that I missed his?
“Are you alright?” I ask, stepping through the door and looking around. The room is small, though, and my brother isn’t there.
She blinks, her gaze slightly averted. “I’m ready to go.”
I frown, then nod. “You’ll need provisions.”
I had a lot of time to think throughout the night.
I can’t simply send her into the wilds like yesterday.
If she’s going to succeed, she’ll need preparation.
“It will take you a week to walk back to civilization at the speed of human legs. It’s unlikely you’ll be able to hunt along your way, so you’ll need to take rations with you, but that will get heavy.
And you’ll need some sort of structure to sleep in at night to protect you from the cold, so—”
“Will you go with me?”
I stare at her, startled. When she turned down the thought of my brothers flying her out—
“But I have no wings.”
“You saved me from the lynx. You’re a good hunter. And you have a lot of arms and a strong back. Even the lightest tents are heavy. And I’m small.”
I blink again. “You. . . trust me?”
She shrugs, eyes shooting to the floor. “Well, I got to thinking last night. Even if I had a map, what good would it do me? This is a strange land, mostly trees.” She shakes her head and rubs her thighs.
“A week is a lot of time to walk in circles, and then, even if I could carry these provisions you’re talking about, if they run out, I’ll still die.
I’m not good at asking for help, but I can see reason. ”
I nod again because that decides it. This one will not go down to the deathly plane, not when it is in my power to prevent it. “I will take you.”