Sofia squeals in happiness and runs away again, back to pluck more sprigs of Rosemary.
And Dante and I continue walking.
He keeps his hands in his pockets, and I keep my arms crossed.
"She's happy here," he says.
"She's a child. Children adapt quickly." I hate to admit that I've never seen her happier.
This is a life I couldn’t give her.
I feel bad for wanting to take her home.
"That's not what I mean. I mean she's comfortable. She's not afraid anymore."
"That's because she doesn't understand what you do. She doesn't understand the danger we're in."
He looks at me.
"Do you?"
"I'm starting to."
"What does that mean?"
I stop walking and turn to face him.
"It means I've been overhearing things. Conversations between your guards. Phone calls you take in your den. I know you're fighting a war. I know your enemies are closing in and we're not just guests here." Someone is trying to use us and I don’t care for it. "I feel like we're nothing more than leverage."
His jaw tightens.
"You're not leverage. You're under my protection."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is that I would die before I let anyone hurt you or Sofia. Leverage is expendable. You're not."
The intensity in his voice catches me off guard.
He means what he's saying.
I can hear it in every word.
It's sort of moving the way he wants to defend us, and chivalrous in a way too.
I soften but I stop myself from smiling.
"Why do you care so much?" I ask.
"Because you're the mother of my child and I spent six years wondering what happened to you. Having you here feels right."
Sofia calls to us from farther down the path, breaking the trance I'm in.
She's standing in front of a stone bench near the fountain, and she waves for us to come see something.
Dante and I walk over together and she points at the bench.
"Look. Someone carved initials here."
