Chapter 13
Hanna
By the time I made my way to our rooftop the next day, the world already smelled like rain again—clean and sharp. I told myself I wasn’t coming up here for Savla. I just needed space and quiet. Plus, the rooftop had better light for brewing.
That was mostly true. But then, I’d begun referring to it as our rooftop, hadn’t I?
The second I stepped onto the roof, Ribbon croaked his happy, gravelly greeting, and the corners of Savla’s mouth twitched—just barely, but enough to make something warm bloom in my chest. He didn’t say hello. He never did.
And it was odd, because I’d seen him with Zara and his brothers, so I knew that he could chat if he wanted to. Well not chat, but reply.
He smiled at them. He smiled for Ribbon. It seemed like I was the only one that he didn’t smile for. It should have bothered me, but instead, for some strange reason, I saw him as a challenge.
I was certain that the little jabs he’d made during the weeks that we’d shared the workshop were meant to ward me off.
He thought that simple little quips would be enough to do that.
Little did he know that the family I grew up in used insults like that as an appetizer.
Barely enough to ping against the armor that I’d been forced to don every day.
It didn’t help that he was using them less and less now. Instead, I was treated to silence, something that I was also very used to.
I loved chatting with my coven, but silence was also something that I needed. Especially when I was brewing new potions. Experimentation required focus, so I usually barricaded myself away for that. It was nice that I could have someone nearby and still have the quiet to create.
My bag was heavy today and I watched his eyes flitter to where my shoulder was slumped with the weight. He just handed me a clean rag, like he somehow knew I’d spill something before the day was over, before taking the bag from me and moving it to the workbench that was now mine.
And maybe I liked that about him—the quiet predictability, the way he didn’t fill silence just to fill it. Being around him felt like taking a deep breath after holding one for too long.
I always wondered how I should behave with my coven. I wasn’t used to their joyful exuberance, and it had taken some time to get used to them. They were my family now—in all the ways that mattered--and I absolutely loved that.
But with Savla, I didn’t feel like I needed to get used to him. I didn’t think he had any expectations of me. Which was oddly... freeing.
I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d rescued me, or if it had started even before.
The first time I’d noticed him, I’d realized that he wasn’t intrusive in the same way the others were.
There weren’t any questions, any probing into my past. Not with Savla.
And for some insane reason, that made me feel safe with him.
I set up my potions on the side table again, careful to avoid the area where I’d nearly died tripping over a chisel a couple days ago—even though Savla had been quick to move the chisel back onto his tool shelf.
He was carving something new—a wooden panel with the outline of a city skyline, every line so deliberate it almost felt like reverence.
“You always work like that,” I said after a while, my voice barely above the hum of his tools.
“Like what?” he asked, not looking up.
“Like you’re trying to fix the world with your work.”
“I’m not trying to fix the world. I just want them to see what I see,” he said, and I heard the frown in his voice.
The words hit something inside of me that I hadn’t been aware existed. A small piece of armor was chipped off and I felt my lips curve. “And here I thought you just liked showing off,” I whispered, the words lower and more intimate.
That earned me a sideways glance—quick, but full of something almost amused. It felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.
I went back to my brewing, half watching him from the corner of my eye. There was something grounding about the rhythm we’d fallen into—him with his quiet precision, me with my messy experiments, and Ribbon hopping between us like a self-appointed supervisor, his tongue hanging like an eager puppy.
Sometimes I’d talk—telling him stories, explaining spells or even just making little observations—and he’d grunt in response. Other times, he’d ask about the things I was mixing, his voice low, curious, like he didn’t realize he was asking.
It was easy. Too easy.
And I hadn’t experienced that in a long time. When the potion started to simmer correctly, I exhaled in relief.
“It worked,” I whispered to myself.
Savla looked up. “It didn’t explode. That’s progress.”
“Hey!” I tossed a bit of dried mint at him. It bounced harmlessly off his shoulder.
He actually smiled. Just a flicker—but it was real. And so handsome. I caught it, and I swear my heart did a stupid, traitorous flip.
Ribbon croaked approvingly, and Savla groaned. “Don’t encourage her.”
“Too late,” I said, grinning.
The first time I’d seen Ribbon the toad, I’d been taken by him.
I’d tilted my head at the adorable creature in front of me.
He was covered in grey fur with the slightest tinge of green at the base and his big, bulging eyes were protruding from his face.
He was recognizable as a toad, but not like any toad I’d ever seen or that existed on this plane.
I’d known almost right away that Ribbon had to have come from the same place Savla and his brothers had. Hellplane as they called it.
Ribbon had sharp, fang-like teeth that were bared while he plopped his long tongue out to look at me, panting as that same tongue almost reached the floor. His flat face was really only able to show his eyes and mouth. He was at the same time the most hideous and cutest thing I’d ever seen.
And after getting to know him? I was already in love with him. If I could toadnap him and take him home with me every night, I would, but he was diligently loyal to Savla and only visited with me when he was bored at night.
We stayed up there until sunset, neither of us saying much. The city stretched below us, washed in gold and smoke and something like peace. And for the first time in ages, I didn’t feel like I was running from something—or waiting for the next disaster. I was just… here, with him.
And settling into the peace of the moment, as well as the comfort of his presence. The safe net that the rooftop had become for me. When I used to feel the need to run, I would leave the building and head into the park with nature as the only way I could clear my head.
Running from the terrible feeling in the back of my mind that my mother and my asshole of an ex-fiancé were trying to find me.
But then after that, the sharp memory of being snatched by Tasia’s ex, his filthy hands digging into my arm as he dragged me across the grass, twigs reaching for me, trying to hold me and protect me but unable to against his brute strength would fill my mind.
Even now, I struggled to push it away, my breathing going shallow, but I was able to do it eventually.
I saw Savla looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I chose to ignore him. He might be my new safe-place, but there was no way I was going to talk to him about the worst parts of my past.
I didn’t trust anyone that much. Not even my beautiful sisters. They’d wanted me to. They’d tried to pry it out of me, but the same way I hadn’t told them the entire story of where I’d come from, I hadn’t disclosed much about my abduction.
I preferred not to think about any of it. To pretend that it had happened to someone else instead of me. It was so much easier that way. The same way it was easy being with Savla.
My magick hadn’t protected me then, and I hadn’t been strong enough. But he felt strong enough to protect me, and maybe that was the most dangerous magick of all.