Chapter 7 #2
Ragnar stepped forward, shortening the already small distance between the demons. His tail flicked as his voice went cold. “Do not speak to her. Do not even look at her. And if you touch her again, it will be the last thing you ever do.”
“How are you going to stop me?” Confidence poured out with Drolmoth’s words, humor creasing his face in such a smug way that all the charm was gone. “You’re not trained in combat. You just keep useless animals.”
Ragnar’s arm shot out, massive hand wrapping around Drolmoth’s throat and pinning him to the wall Brioni had just been trapped against. “I won’t do anything,” Ragnar said, barely a rumble over the sputtering sound Drolmoth made.
“But those useless animals I keep are trained to tear apart whatever I tell them to.” He gestured with his elbow, and swirling purple eyes blinked to life from the forest’s shadows.
“When they’re ordered to attack, they tend to start with their prey’s groin. ”
Drolmoth fell still, eyes narrowing.
Ragnar twitched, sucking in a sharp breath. “Do you understand?”
The other demon only growled.
Leaning closer, Ragnar snarled, “I said, do you fucking understand?”
“Yes,” he hissed, and Ragnar finally released him.
There were dark marks on Drolmoth’s neck, and Brioni thought that surely he would attack Ragnar in return.
She cowered behind Ragnar, terrified that he would be hurt but determined to remain there and help somehow.
Maybe she could poke Drolmoth in the eye or knee him in the crotch or grab some of that hair he liked so much and pull it out by the root.
At the least it would be a distraction, and it would probably feel pretty good too, but her innards trembled anyway because she’d never been in a fight before and they were both so big.
She would probably end up tripping on a stray tail and knocking herself out.
Drolmoth spat at Ragnar’s boots, and Brioni balled her fists, prepared to throw punches and scream, but the purple demon simply strode off.
She watched with breath held until the barracks’ back door swung shut, Drolmoth disappearing inside. It was anticlimactic for certain, and a relief doubly so, but the enthusiasm was still there, and it had to be released, so Brioni spun toward Ragnar and wrapped her arms around his middle.
The demon stiffened under her touch, but she didn’t care—the hug was as much for her as it was for him.
She buried her face against his chest and took a deep breath of straw and earth.
For the briefest moment it was like standing in the barn again and feeling at ease with the sounds of animals bedding down and a cool breeze blowing through the big wide-open doors.
Squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could, she imagined that place and managed to keep the tears at bay.
When the sob was fully subdued, she whispered, “Thank you for threatening to eat his balls for me.”
Ragnar cleared his throat. “That’s not exactly what I said.”
“Close enough.” She knew she should let go, that he was probably hating every second of her touch, but there was too much space in her chest, and she refused to let fear swell there.
She wanted to fill it with him, which she knew was selfish and terrible since he had already done so much, but she couldn’t help herself—she’d always wanted to squeeze and be squeezed back like someone who was wanted—and she just ended up squeezing him harder.
There was a light tap on the top of her head that she thought she imagined until a second reticent touch followed.
The vision that filled her mind, Ragnar petting her hair awkwardly as she tried to squish him in two, broke her of the melancholy, and she chuckled against his chest before finally releasing him.
Ragnar’s face wasn’t how she expected when she gazed upward. His lips were still turned down and his brow still furrowed, but there was no anger hiding in the crease between his eyes and no annoyance in the way he tipped his horned head. “I will walk you home,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
The fluttering in her stomach was so strong it batted away every bad feeling she’d had for the past three days and even some that had been hanging around even longer. “Okay,” was all she could manage without shrieking with glee. She’d never been walked home before.
The giant wolf-like veilhounds followed them, keeping to the edge of the wood as they watched the two stroll toward the building’s corner.
They were too far off to pet, but their barely seen presence was like an additional blanket draped over the first she was still snuggled into before the imaginary fire in her mind.
“I should apologize,” Ragnar mumbled, eyes cast to the ground and hand balled into a fist as he took measured steps beside her.
“For protecting me?” She snorted a small laugh, cheeks warming as she turned her head to the ground.
“No, for—”
“Oh, Ragnar, you’re bleeding!” She clamped down on his wrist the moment she saw the black droplet fall from his fist. Uncurling his fingers revealed more viscous blood oozing up from slices across his palm. “What in the world happened?”
“Drolmoth’s magic,” he grumbled. “No need to worry.”
“When you grabbed his neck? Oh, I didn’t know he had hidden skewers like some jerk on a stick!
We have to fix this, you poor thing.” She dragged Ragnar around to the side of the barracks, and since determination often made the impossible seem probable, she didn’t notice he was letting her, she just thought she’d gained some inhuman strength to complement her conviction.
Guards were clearing out of the training yard, but she wasn’t distracted this time by the presence of glistening sweat and the absence of tunics, her gaze homing in on a yellow demon instead.
“Sit here.” She shoved Ragnar down on a crate hidden along the wall.
“Stay,” she commanded and went sprinting off to collect the healer.
It wasn’t lost on Ragnar that Brioni had just spoken to him like he was Moar, which he would have minded under any other circumstance, but this wasn’t one of his chapters, so there was no expounding to be done.
Watery eyes and a few frantic words were all it took to get the lithe yellow demon to follow Brioni. He jogged beside her harried run, worry spilling out until he was presented with the casualty.
“What in blazes—oh, hey, Ragnar.”
The gray demon held up his injured hand in greeting. “Rand.”
“Oh, shit, is this it?” The healer chuckled as he took Ragnar’s wrist and examined the injury. “She had me thinking someone was bleeding out over here.”
Ragnar’s black eyes flicked to Brioni, and she expected her stomach to drop with his glare, but the corner of his mouth lifted instead, and she practically preened. Oh, look how secretly pleased he is to be doted on! I knew it!
The healer casually called up his mending magic and went to work.
He asked Brioni politely to move once when she stuck her face too close to the glowing slices and a little less politely when she did it again.
Then he wrapped Ragnar’s hand in a bandage from the pouch he wore on his hip, and since there wasn’t any magic to marvel over, she took mental notes about how the fabric’s looping knots could be translated into paper folds.
That time Rand didn’t bother asking her to do anything, but not because she had learned what an appropriate observational distance was.
“You got to me quick, so that should be good as new tomorrow. Might have even removed some of the calluses.” The yellow demon grinned, fists on his hips proudly. “She didn’t do this to you, did she?”
“Not exactly.” Ragnar’s mouth twitched again into an almost-smile, and Brioni’s insides went to complete mush.
“Good, I don’t think she’d do well in custody. So, how have you been?”
Ragnar stood. “I have to escort the human home.”
“Oh, uh, right.” The healer’s steady smile finally faltered. “You know, you should come to The Fallen Priest some night. The squad—”
“Sure,” said Ragnar, though it was clear he had no interest, and he began walking off as Rand half-heartedly wished him well.
Brioni stood looking between the defeated healer and the withdrawing beastkeeper. “Thank you,” she said quickly to Rand, flashing him a smile before catching up with the other, who had discovered the cart and qapian right where she’d left them.
Ragnar readjusted Stephan’s yoke, asking if he was comfortable, and then seemed to take his silent cud chewing as confirmation before directing them southward. The two walked on either side of the animal, and as much as Brioni wanted to strike up conversation, dread began to build in her gut.
I probably embarrassed him in front of that healer.
He said he had to walk me home.
I got him hurt because I got myself into trouble.
It was all she could do to keep herself as silent as the qapian on the walk.
She hated every second of how her budding excitement was completely overthrown by shameful worries, but she couldn’t risk digging herself in deeper.
When the post was in sight, Ragnar stopped at the edge of the alley they’d used—lots of alleys, she noted, and though it took a little longer, they barely saw any other demons on the way.
Stephan continued on, eager to be back in his grazing pen.
When he and the cart passed by, Brioni was left beside Ragnar again. “Do you want to come inside and—”
“No.” Ragnar held up his uninjured hand to stop her from saying more. “Go inside where it’s safe.”
The least she could do was exactly as he said, she decided, and jogged to the post. She looked back when she made it beneath the tree at the entry. Ragnar was still standing in the shadows, arms folded, watching. She gave him the only thing she had left—a meager, apologetic wave—and ducked inside.