Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
LARELLIN
Irun my fingers along the books in one of the rooms downstairs.
The air in here smells wise and reminds me of the library at the priory.
Not that I can read any of it. Only the nobles and the prioresses ever learned letters back in Raingreen.
My mother may have had aspirations for me to join the sisters, but once they burned Prioress Lenitia, she changed her mind about it.
It’s been two days since I’ve seen Vander, though I swear that sometimes when I wake in the night, it’s as if he’s there. Or perhaps just been there and gone. A hint of warmth in the air, the scent of sweet smoke. I’ve fast come to recognize the smell of him.
My crutch clicks along the stone as I make my way around the room and stop near the dwindling fire.
The furniture in here is much like the rest in the keep—each piece of it far too large for mortals but comfortable all the same.
I sit on the nearest sofa, the upholstery some sort of animal hide, and kick up my feet.
My aching leg throbs, but I refuse to let it keep me in that bedroom for one moment longer.
It’s healed far more quickly than any wound I’ve ever had.
The skin is woven back together, only some pink scarring remaining to mark the injury.
But the soreness remains, and Lenka says it’s still healing, getting stronger.
Moving around has to help, especially if that means I get to investigate the keep.
I wasn’t lying when I told Vander I was going mad in there—just this morning, right before dawn, I could’ve sworn I heard voices outside my window.
A female arguing with someone rather heatedly.
But when I hopped over to the glass, there was nothing outside except wind and snow and the mountains far away.
“Getting around easier now?” A low voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I turn to find a man striding in and plopping onto the couch opposite me.
He cracks open a book and starts reading, then glances at me over the top of it.
“I know you can talk. Pretty sure I heard you scream when you first saw me.” His eyes are a yellowy green. Like a cat. Or … or like a wolf.
“You’re the wolven?” I swallow hard, alarm bells screeching in my mind.
“I’m Brin,” he corrects. “And yes, I’m a wolven.”
I stare. He doesn’t look like he did when I first saw him. Now he looks almost like a man. A big one with thick brown hair and bushy brows, but still a man. No claws. No fangs. Just a beard and big hands, the backs dusted with dark hair.
“We simply can’t keep meeting like this.” He smiles, the fair skin next to his eyes crinkling. “People will say we’re in love.”
“What?” I can barely find my voice. In love? With a beast that steals infants from their cribs?
The crinkles subside, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me, are all mortals this uptight?”
I can only blink. Will he hurt me? I don’t know. Vander has promised me time and again that I’m safe here, but plenty of mortals have gone to their doom trusting in the promises of the creatures of Oblivion. All my childhood nursery rhymes can attest to that.
He sighs and lifts his book, hiding his face from me. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you’re not my type. So don’t go getting any ideas.”
Ideas? What is he talking about?
I scrabble to grab my crutch, but I only manage to knock it to the floor where it clatters loudly and skids away, landing at his feet.
“Is this a plea for attention?” He closes his book, then leans down and grabs my crutch. “I thought Vander was giving you plenty, but this little ploy says differently.” He holds the crutch out to me. “Here.”
I freeze. Will he grab me if I try to take it? Is this a trick?
“Gods, I don’t know how Vander stands you. Are you always this scared?”
“I …” I swallow hard. “Yes.”
His eyebrows rise a little. “At least you’re honest. Rare in mortals, from what I’ve heard.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Here, take the crutch. As I said, I’m not interested in you in the slightest, so you can stop playing games.”
He thinks I’m toying with him? Confused doesn’t scratch the surface of what I’m feeling as I reach out and gingerly retrieve the crutch.
The moment he lets go, he slides back onto his sofa and opens his book again. “You can go.” He flicks his fingers at me as if flinging off some sort of crud. “I’m not going to ravish you no matter how hard you try.”
What? How dare he? “You eat children!” I blurt.
The book shakes.
I recoil, trying to press myself against the couch while holding out my crutch like a weapon. I might not be able to defeat him, but I swear to the gods I’ll put up a good fight.
A laugh reverberates around the room. I feel like my eyes might be bugging out of my head. What is happening?
The book lowers again, and the wolven is guffawing, his eyes closed as he howls with laughter. Literally howls.
Something bangs in the hallway, and Vander rushes in, frost in his hair, his wings spread and propelling him at impossible speed. He rushes to me and snatches me into his arms, sending my crutch flying again.
“What is going on?” he roars.
I press my cheek to his chest to dampen the sound, but his heartbeat is somehow even louder. Strong like thunder in the center of a storm.
“Did you know the mortal has jokes?” Brin wipes at his eyes, a laugh still bubbling from him.
“What?” Vander holds me tightly.
“She thinks I eat—” He chuckles. “—mortal children. Did you know that?”
Vander relaxes a hair, though his grip on me is still certain. “Yes, I’d been meaning to address that.”
“Couldn’t find the time?” Brin grins, his canines longer than they should be.
“You can put me down.” I push against Vander’s chest.
“I’m aware.” He doesn’t move, but he meets my gaze. “The wolven don’t cross into the mortal realm. They don’t eat children or steal babies—”
Brin guffaws again. “Steal babies?” He rolls his eyes. “What would I do with a mewling brat? Hurl it at my enemies? Watch it puke on one of the cursed vampire princes? Maybe I could use it as a—”
“They hunt like all predators.” Vander speaks in an even tone while shooting the wolven a scathing look.
“In fact, just like mortals do. No children, no babies. They don’t harm the innocent, though, of course, not all wolven are the same.
There are bad ones among them, just as there are bad ones among mortals. ”
“Concerning meals, I actually prefer chicken from Maisie’s over by Churlytown.” Brin shrugs. “I grew tired of hunting my own food ages ago. Besides, once you have chicken, you quickly realize that everything else tastes like chicken. I call it the poultry paradox. One day I’ll write a book on it.”
Vander gives him a withering look. “As I’ve said, you have nothing to fear from this wolven.”
Brin stands and closes his book. “While this has been fun, I’m afraid you’re curtailing my reading.
I’ll show myself to my room and get ready for dinner.
” He winks at Vander as he passes. “Keep that mortal on a leash. I’d hate for her to try to take advantage of me.
She was looking at me with open lust only moments ago. ”
“I was not!” I yelp.
Brin howls with laughter again as he disappears into the hallway.
Vander goes tense again, his jaw tight.
“He’s lying.” My cheeks heat, sheepishness creeping through me—and not just because Brin accused me of being interested in him. Could all those tales from my childhood have been lies? Why would mortals make up such awful things? It’s hard to believe, even harder to understand.
Vander sits, keeping me in his lap and his arms.
“Pet, you can’t go around the keep accusing my friends and family of atrocities, all right?”
My mouth drops open. “I’m not!”
“You just did.”
“No! I thought … I mean—look, we’re told—”
“What you’re told, and what the truth are, are two entirely different things.
” His steady green gaze makes my cheeks feel like an inferno.
“I realize that isn’t entirely your fault.
But, all the same, there are plenty of creatures in Oblivion that wouldn’t simply laugh off that sort of insult. You must be careful.”
“I thought you said I was safe here.”
“You are.” He lets out a longsuffering sigh. “I should’ve mentioned this quite a bit sooner but—”
“But I freaked out about being held captive by the DragonKin and then almost killed myself—”
He groans and winces.
“And got bitten by a giant spider.” I give up and rest my head against his chest. “That you saved me from, even though you didn’t have to.”
We fall silent, the pounding of his heart a steady rhythm against my cheek.
From this one misstep, I’m beginning to realize I’ve made plenty of them.
I’ve been foolish, the one thing I swore I’d never be.
I’d always thought I was clever, especially when the prioresses scolded me for my wily nature.
But as it turns out, I’ve been nothing but dense since Vander took me from that battlement.
“Everyone here has been nothing but kind to me.” I don’t know why my eyes water when I say it. I wish they didn’t. “Kinder than …” I don’t finish the thought. I don’t have to.
Vander’s hold tightens the slightest bit. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I saw you chained to the stone.”
Gods, why does this feel so good? I don’t remember anyone holding me like this.
Not even my mother. Perhaps when I was little or very ill, but never for the sake of simply holding me.
It’s almost like a gift I didn’t know existed, one that’s as foreign as it is comforting.
And it’s getting harder for me to remember Vander isn’t a man, not a mortal, not anything I’ve ever experienced before.
I still don’t know what he plans to do with me, but that doesn’t leave me feeling as uneasy as it did before.
He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t chide me. He simply sits with me, granting me his warmth while I try to gather my thoughts.