Chapter 17 #2
“What in the Geist’s name was that?” Maurice asked after a moment.
“I think,” Warren started, leaning into the hall and peering down it, “I think someone’s at the door.”
“Visitors?” my mother squawked. She wiped her hands hurriedly on her apron. “We aren’t prepared for visitors.”
She rushed off down the hall, fixing her hair along the way. I looked over to my brothers, but Warren only shrugged. A moment later, the front door creaked open, and my mother’s uncertain voice rang out in greeting.
“Oh, hello,” she said pleasantly, though I could tell by her tone she wasn’t sure who she was welcoming.
“Hello,” a woman’s voice responded. “We are Cyrus’s parents. We heard you were moving into the ring, and we know how much our son cared for Adrian, so we thought we would come by and welcome you.”
A silence descended at the mention of Cyrus’s name. Warren closed his eyes and sighed. Maurice just turned his back, pretending to be more interested in the items in the pantry.
My mother hesitated.
“Oh my, yes,” she replied a moment later. “Please, come in. This is so very kind of you.”
The footsteps in the foyer reverberated around the walls as my mother shut the door behind the guests.
“Some people in the community can be…resistant to newcomers. Or so we expect. It isn’t as though there have been any in a while,” Cyrus’s mother continued.
She sounded light, upbeat, but there was a sad undertone to her words.
“We wanted them to see that you had some friends here. They’re more likely to accept you if they do. ”
“I so appreciate your looking out for us,” my mother cooed happily, and their voices faded away as they stepped into the living room. The conversation shifted to my mother’s plans for my birthday and Cyrus’s mother offering to help plan.
I turned away, looking up at the cabinets which sat open, giving me a glimpse at the expensive porcelain inside.
Warren stepped up to my side.
“They’re just…not talking about him,” I said after a moment.
“People don’t tend to dwell on subjects that make them sad.”
I looked up at him. “How is she? Dahlia, I mean.”
“She said you came to visit.”
“I did.” I looked away, afraid that if I didn’t, Warren would see the words Dahlia had spoken to me that night etched plainly on my face. “But I couldn’t stay long, and she didn’t say much.”
“She’s not doing well, Adrian.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath. I knew that. Of course I’d known that. But somehow part of me had hoped I was wrong, that she’d somehow turned it all around in the short amount of time it had been since I’d seen her.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” Warren murmured.
He cleared his throat and walked silently down the hall toward a closed door on the opposite side of the foyer from the living room.
I followed, intrigued by his sudden awkwardness.
Warren had never been uncomfortable around me before.
If anything, he’d always been far too eager to share whatever thought popped into his mind.
There’d never been secrets between us which we weren’t bound by Oath to keep.
We entered a dining room already decorated with beautifully painted images of Sanctuary and an enormous table in the center, surrounded by half a dozen chairs. Warren sat in one and gestured for me to join him. I did, watching him curiously.
“What is it?” I asked, having had enough of the dramatic hesitation. Something about his discomfort made me nervous.
“It’s about Dahlia,” he said, and a thousand possibilities flew through my mind at once. Was she hurt? Was she in trouble? But never in a million years would I have considered the possibility of what Warren said next. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
My jaw dropped.
“Uh, oh, um,” I stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. There was absolutely no way I’d heard him correctly. “I didn’t know you were—”
“We aren’t,” Warren rushed on. “But, um, well you know that she can no longer compete in the Trials, not with what happened to Cyrus. And with Darius, well, gone, the possibility of her family advancing like this,” he gestured around at the finery around us, “is impossible. Unless…”
“Unless she married up,” I finished for him, astounded.
He shrugged sheepishly. I’d never seen Warren so shy before.
“Right,” he said. “This place is plenty big enough for Orson and Dionne to move in, too. Dahlia and I are the same age, and I’ve been staying with her practically every day by his side. Everyone is certain he won’t come back. I just want…I want to give her whatever happiness I can, as a friend.”
Friend.
I stared at my brother, allowing his words to sink in, giving my mind time to catch up with his plan. “You love her?”
“I—not necessarily. I mean, I do as a friend. I’ve always cared about her.
And I know she’s in no position to even consider anyone but Cyrus.
I was that way myself after Anna…but it would give her a better life, an easier time, and maybe someday, if things go well…
” He trailed off, his cheeks tinged pink.
I stared at him with open abandon, probably rudely, but I couldn’t help it.
I never thought I would hear Warren talking about moving on, about building a future with anyone but Anna, even if it was just with a friend.
But if there was anyone who understood what, precisely, Dahlia was losing and how long it might take for her to recover enough to even consider anyone else, it was Warren.
And perhaps that alone made them a decent enough fit for one another.
“That’s very kind of you, Warren,” I told him carefully. “But, as a friendly warning, Dahlia will never accept you if she believes the offer to be made out of pity or obligation.”
“Right. I know. That’s why I haven’t asked yet. That, and I don’t want to push her. But I wanted you to know.”
I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat.
It was a good, solid plan. It made perfect sense.
It was practical and generous, but something about tying Dahlia to our family forever, something about knowing I’d have to look into those familiar blue eyes for the rest of my life, that there would always be a reminder of him around this house—in this family—gave me pause.
I loved Dahlia. But I wasn’t strong enough to face her.
So I stood, still nodding.
“Adrian?” Warren asked, frowning.
“I have to go,” I blurted. “Dante is expecting me for training.”
I offered a brief farewell, then fled the house that now belonged to my family. I jogged down the steps and breezed through the front gates, right past the girl with the strawberry hair who called out my name behind me.