Chapter 11 Lorenth
LORENTH
The inn's mattress is a lumpy disaster, but I don't sleep anyway.
I spend the entire night staring at the water-stained ceiling, replaying every second of yesterday.
Senna's face when she turned and saw me—that flash of recognition before she tried to bury it.
The way her storm-gray eyes went wide with something that looked like terror mixed with longing.
How she pretended not to know me, voice shaking as she lied through her teeth.
Then that bastard grabbed her. Dragged her away while she stumbled, and I just stood there like a fucking coward.
I roll onto my side, the bed frame creaking under my weight, and press the heel of my hand against my sternum. The bond pulls tighter, sharper than it's been in days. It's been gnawing at me since the moment she left the Masquerade, but yesterday—seeing her again—it became damn near unbearable.
Like something vital has been ripped out of my chest and is walking around separate from me.
Morning light filters through the grimy window, casting long shadows across the cramped room. I push myself upright, running both hands through my hair hard enough to hurt.
Think, Lorenth. Use your godsdamn brain.
She wasn't happy to see her husband. That much was clear. The way she flinched when he touched her. The panic in her eyes when she realized he'd seen us together. The tremor in her voice when she tried to dismiss what we shared.
And she's not from the city. She panicked when the bells rang at daybreak, bolted like her life depended on getting home. Now I'm thinking it was because she needed to be back before he noticed she was gone.
My jaw clenches hard enough to make my teeth ache.
I don't think she's in love.
She was afraid of him. Is afraid of him.
Which means she's not happily married. Means that kiss—both of them, the one at the Masquerade and the one yesterday—weren't just physical attraction or the bond pulling us together. They were desperation. A drowning woman gasping for air.
And I let her go back to him.
If she was married—even unhappy but taken care of—I'd walk away. But I'm starting to doubt that she entered that arrangement willingly.
I know how humans are treated by xaphan. But human women? Senna could be suffering. And then I remember what she said to me at the Masquerade.
I just want to know what it feels like to feel good with someone.
I surge to my feet, pacing the narrow space between the bed and the wall. My wings shift restlessly against my back, responding to the fury building in my chest.
I need to talk to her. Need to find out what the fuck is going on and why she's stuck in a marriage that clearly makes her miserable. Why she is clearly used to abuse and begged for touch that wasn't painful. Need to hear her say she wants this—wants me—so I can figure out how to get her out.
Because I'm not walking away from this. From her.
The bond won't let me. My own damn heart won't let me.
But I don't know where to find her.
I grab my coat from where I threw it over the chair last night and head downstairs. The innkeeper barely glances up from wiping down the bar as I drop a few lummi on the counter and stride out into the cold morning air.
The village is just waking up, smoke rising from chimneys, a few early risers moving through the streets. It's small enough that everyone probably knows everyone's business, which means I need to be careful.
I head toward the stable where I saw Senna yesterday. Maybe someone there will know where she lives. Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll be there again.
The stable sits at the edge of the village, a weathered building that's seen better decades. A zarryn snorts from inside one of the stalls as I approach, its silver coat catching the morning light.
I'm about to call out when a woman rounds the corner, carrying a bucket of water. She stops dead when she sees me, honey-brown eyes going sharp with recognition.
She's human, curvy, with chestnut-brown skin and short springy curls that frame her face. Pretty in a way that would probably turn heads if she weren't currently looking at me like I'm a threat.
"You're Lorenth," she says. Not a question.
I nod slowly, trying to figure out how she knows my name.
She sets the bucket down with deliberate care, crossing her arms over her chest. "Senna told me about you."
Everything in me goes still. "Is she—"
"She's alive, if that's what you're asking." The woman's voice is hard, protective. "But gods only know how long that will be true."
My hands curl into fists at my sides. "What does that mean?"
"It means her husband is a piece of shit who beats her whenever he feels like it.
" She takes a step closer, her chin lifting in challenge despite the fact that I've got more than a foot on her.
"It means she came to my place last night covered in bruises because of what happened when he dragged her home. Because he saw her with you."
The rage that floods through me is so sharp, so immediate, that my vision briefly whites out. I force myself to breathe through it, to not let my wings flare or my magic surge.
"Where is she?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend.
The woman studies me for a long moment, her gaze searching my face like she's trying to decide if I'm worth the risk. "Why are you here?"
"Because I need to talk to her."
"That's not an answer."
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to just push past her and tear this village apart until I find Senna myself. "Because she's my soulmate and I can feel her hurting and it's driving me out of my godsdamn mind."
Something shifts in the woman's expression—not quite softening, but close. "You really care about her."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Yes."
"She can't be hurt by someone else," the woman says quietly. "She's been through enough. If you're going to walk into her life and make promises you can't keep—"
"I'm not going to hurt her." The words come out fierce, absolute. "I swear on my life, on anything, I'm not going to hurt her."
The woman holds my gaze for another beat, then sighs. "The blacksmith shop. Edge of the village, south side. You'll know it by the smoke."
I'm already moving before she finishes speaking.
"Lorenth."
I glance back.
Her face is serious, almost grave. "Get her out of there. Please."
I don't answer. Just turn and head south, my stride eating up the distance.
The blacksmith shop is easy to find—exactly where she said it would be, with smoke rising from the forge chimney. It's a squat stone building with a faded sign hanging above the door, the paint so chipped I can barely make out the words.
I push the door open, stepping into the dim interior.
The front room is cluttered with tools and half-finished projects, metal glinting in the low light from the forge visible through a doorway at the back. But there's no one here. No sound except the faint crackle of embers.
I'm about to call out when I hear it.
A cry. Sharp and pained and unmistakably Senna.
Every rational thought evaporates.
I move on pure instinct, crossing the shop in three strides and shoving through the back doorway into what looks like a small workspace.
And there she is.
On her knees on the stone floor, one hand pressed to her face, her black curls falling forward to hide her expression.
And standing over her, arm raised like he's about to strike again, is the same bastard who dragged her away yesterday.
Rage detonates in my chest.
I don't think. Don't plan. Just surge forward and grab him by the back of his tunic, yanking him away from her with enough force to send him stumbling backward.
"What the fuck—" he starts, spinning toward me.
I don't let him finish.
My fist connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack, and he goes down hard, his head hitting the edge of the workbench on the way. He crumples to the floor and doesn't move.
Good. Saves me the trouble of hitting him again.
I turn to Senna, dropping to my knees beside her.
She's trembling, her whole body shaking like she's been caught in a winter storm.
Her hand is still pressed to her cheek, and when I gently pull it away, I see fresh blood welling from a split in her lip.
The bruise from yesterday has darkened to an ugly purple-black, and there's a new one forming along her jaw.
Fury roars through me again, so sharp I can taste it.
"Senna." My voice comes out rougher than I intend, but I force myself to gentle it. "Senna, look at me."
Her storm-gray eyes lift to mine, wide and glassy with unshed tears.
"I've got you," I tell her, sliding one arm under her knees and the other around her back. "You're going to be okay."
She doesn't protest when I lift her, just curls into my chest like she's trying to disappear. The bond flares bright and fierce in response, singing in my veins like it's finally found what it's been searching for.
She fits against me perfectly. Like she was made to be held exactly like this.
I stand, cradling her carefully, and glance back at the unconscious piece of shit on the floor. Part of me wants to put my boot through his ribs. Make sure he feels a fraction of the pain he's caused her.
But Senna is more important.
Getting her out of here is more important.
"Is he—" Senna's voice is barely a whisper, muffled against my coat.
"Unconscious." I keep my tone even, controlled, even though everything inside me is screaming for blood. "He'll live."
Unfortunately.
She shudders in my arms, and I tighten my grip on her.
"I'm taking you with me," I tell her, leaving no room for argument. "You're not staying here."
"He'll come after me." Her voice cracks. "He'll—"
"Let him try."
I carry her out of the shop, not bothering to close the door behind us. Let the bastard wake up cold and confused on his own damn floor.
The morning air bites at my face as I step outside, and Senna shivers against me. I adjust my hold, making sure my coat is wrapped around her as much as possible.
"Lorenth—"
"We'll talk when we're somewhere safe," I cut in gently. "Right now, I just need you to trust me."
She goes quiet, her fingers curling into the fabric of my tunic.
And that small gesture—that tentative trust—does something to me. Breaks through the fury and the protective instinct and touches something deeper.
She's mine.
The bond knows it. My soul knows it. And now, finally, I'm going to make damn sure she knows it too.