Chapter 10 Elias
ELIAS
Eleanor’s kitchen was a tangle of herbs and vegetables, the knife in her hand glinting sharply as she chopped. She glanced up at him, her eyes sharp and calculating.
“You’ve come for another letter,” she said, tone accusing, hands poised over the cutting board.
“I—” Elias began, and paused. How to explain?
There was no simple reason he felt compelled to watch over Penelope’s fragile heart, no clean excuse to justify the hunger in his chest that stirred whenever her name passed through his mind.
“I figured you wished to speak to your friend. Lest you do not care from her as much as you purport.”
Eleanor’s laugh was sharp, brittle. “And what makes you so eager to help now, hm? Have you grown sentimental, or have you decided to play the concerned suitor?” Her knife flicked dangerously near the edge of the table. “Stay away from her, Elias, or—”
“Or what?” he asked, voice low, a curl of amusement brushing his lips despite the tension. He leaned against the doorway, unbothered by the implied threat. “You would harm me with a kitchen knife? I should warn you, Eleanor, killing a vampire would require more than brittle metal.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tempt me. She is sweet and innocent, Elias. Leave her be.”
“I do not tempt you,” he said softly. “I simply wish to be helpful.”
Eleanor scoffed, halting with knife mid-air, and then something brushed his leg.
The fox padded between them, tail flicking. She glanced down at the creature, then back at Elias. “And the fox?” she asked, suspicion knitting her brow.
Elias shrugged lightly. “It follows me. It is nothing more. I can’t seem to get rid of the little beasty.”
Something not unlike eagerness curled up his back. It had been a few days since Eleanor had written to Penelope. And, without a letter, she would have no reason to entertain him again.
“Leave Penelope be,” she echoed, doubt lacing her voice, as though she sensed that whatever he claimed, there was always more beneath the surface. “She is likely to be wed soon. Heavens knows her father has been busy making arrangements.”
“Married?”
Her eyes flicked to his before focusing on the vegetables again.
“Yes,” she started, “all women are married off for coin like cattle. Only difference between Penelope and the other towns women is her standing. Which means she is offered grace for not yet being wed. Her father is likely contemplating suitors.”
There it was again—that same stone-like feeling settling in his gut. “I heard her father mention a name—Henry.”
“Henry was her friend, before he left and she went to finishing school. He comes from a prominent family and they got on fairly well as children. If her father intends to arrange their union, knowing Penelope, she is overwhelmed with excitement. Penny has always wished to be married. Such a union would likely have her marking down the days on a calendar until the wedding.”
Elias’s jaw tightened, a slow, deliberate tension that ran like steel through his spine.
“Excitement,” he repeated, the word tasting bitter on his tongue.
He pictured Penelope, head bent politely, laughter careful and measured, speaking with Henry—the warmth in her voice meant for another.
The thought pressed cold and heavy in his chest.
Would she be happy with Henry?
Eleanor paused, knife poised mid-chop, and glanced up at him, sensing the shift. “Do not tell me that such a notion disturbs you,” she said quietly, though her eyes flitted to the subtle twitch of his hand, the tension in the line of his shoulders.
“Of course not. I am simply wondering what Henry looks like. Knowing the men in your town, likely the rear end of a mule. Not to insult the mule of course. What I harbor is curiosity alone. Nothing more.”
He let the words hang. There was truth there—and omission. He would not lie to Eleanor, but neither would he confess the storm of possessiveness, of longing, that gnawed at him whenever Penelope’s name crossed his mind.
“The letters are on the counter,” Eleanor mumbled. “I will call for you when there are more.”
The fox padded closer to him, resting its head against his ankle. Elias allowed himself a fraction of a smile.
For now, he watched, waited, and ensured the world did not intrude upon what fragile moments he had been granted with Penelope.
After all, he reminded himself with quiet rigor, he was merely passing time with her. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“And Elias,” Eleanor’s voice cut across his thoughts.
She looked up at him, brows knitted, her eyes flicking between his.
“Be careful. Henry’s family… they are not like the others of our town.
There are rumors that the real reason they left was not for their son’s study but to—” she faltered, yet still held his gaze.
“To what?” His voice was even, but the air sharpened with unease.
Her grip tightened on the knife. “To hunt vampires.”