Chapter Seven Claire #3
Irritation spikes through me, but he’s right.
I’m used to getting my hands dirty—horses require plenty of dirty work—but I’ve never not had a warm bed to sleep in.
Even after I burned down Sellecastel. Anne-Sophie made sure of that.
And by the time I left the Dames Blanches, I was fluent in the pickpocketing basics.
“There is one other option.” He shakes his head at the ground. “You won’t like this, but—”
“I know what you’re going to suggest.”
I stand and toss my wet hair back, making a flirtatious show of shrugging off his overcoat and dropping it on his head. Sighing, he pulls it off his face.
“We need to share body heat, right? I’m not opposed.” I untangle the knots in my bodice and slip it off, leaving myself standing in my wet chemise.
Look at me, I beg quietly. Make me feel wanted. Like a human being.
But then I notice diluted blood from the woman staining the bodice strings. My carefully constructed flirtatious mask cracks. Don’t panic. Don’t cry. You’re a better actress than this. Tears fill my eyes.
Why couldn’t the river have washed all the blood away?
I don’t want to hurt anyone. I want to rebuild my life. Regain my humanity. Is that so unforgivable?
Abel peeks at the bodice. His eyes widen at the blood. That’s the same way he looked at me after I slit that woman’s throat.
Is this why he wants to part ways? Because he thinks I’m not just a thief but a murderer? Curse or no curse, blood on my hands does make me a monster in the eyes of society. Why not his eyes, too?
“I understand why you want to accompany me, but—” he begins.
“You think I wanted to kill that woman? I did it to save your life.” The impulse to justify myself spills from me. “You need me, whether you like it or not.”
“It’s not worth the risk.”
Why doesn’t he get it? He needs me. He has to need me. Otherwise I’ll tuck tail and return to the Dames Blanches, spending the rest of my life on the run, committing crimes for sleep powder just to hide again and again.
That’s not the life Papa wanted for me. It’s not a life I will accept.
The fire pops again. Lucy shifts in her sleep, rolling her belly closer to the warmth. I stare at Abel’s weakened familiar. The last echo of his brother.
The pity card. My only play to make him cave.
I peel the wet chemise over my head. Water drips down my hair and back. Bare skin exposed to the freezing cold, I cross my arms over my chest. I’m utterly exposed in front of Abel, outside and in.
“You said Lucy is all you have left, and I’m sorry for that.” I hate the way my voice blubbers for real. “But I have nothing.”
Exhausted, I fall to my knees, weight on my heels. Abel rises, collecting my wet clothes from the ground. One by one, he lays them over the empty spaces on the clothesline. When he sits against the rock beside me again, he returns the overcoat to my shoulders and casts a solemn look at the stars.
“There was a field exam when I was fourteen, in trainee camp,” he says. “The instructor put us into pairs for a team dragon-tracking simulation. Lo and behold, he paired me up with Hanna du Fay.”
I cocoon myself inside the overcoat. Where is he going with this?
“We were the top two trainees in our year. We should’ve finished first. But there was a snowstorm, so the forest was more difficult to navigate than usual.
I misread the map and turned a day-long exam into an overnight survival exercise.
Basically, the situation we’re in now.” He lets out a breath, as if exasperated by the memory.
“I knocked her grade down to second place for the first time since our class started instruction. When we returned to camp the next morning, she kicked me in the groin in front of everyone.”
Something stirs at the back of my mind. “Hanna…You called that name across the plaza.”
“That was her.” He rubs his neck. “She had a big ego, but she’d earned it. She might’ve been the best slayer of my generation.”
“Two pretty girls to stay warm with?” I tease. “Lucky you.”
“My point is I’m grateful you’re here.” He clears his throat. “To help me survive. Nothing more. You’re safe with me.”
To hide my flushed cheeks, I curl up on my side, adjusting his overcoat like a blanket. While Abel undresses behind me, I scratch Lucy’s neck to distract myself.
I flinch when his knee brushes the back of my leg. He pauses. “Is this all right?” he asks.
I lift the overcoat off my back in invitation. “For survival, right?”
“If it makes you feel any better, kick me in the morning.” He mutters, “Preferably not in the groin.”
I try to relax as he lies behind me. He leaves a hair of cold space between our bodies.
I reach back to drape his arm over my waist, pulling us firmly together.
I blush at my inadvertent sigh; he must’ve heard it, but I can’t help melting into his warmth.
Even though there’s nothing between us, this closeness hits me like a drug.
When I close my eyes, a tear slips past my eyelashes. Half a year has gone by since I felt another person’s warmth. Even Anne-Sophie didn’t embrace me like this. I didn’t realize how much I missed human contact.
Maybe it’s because I ceased to be human at all.