She glanced down at her mother, still cowering and whimpering under the table. Well, it didn’t look like they’d be expecting any trouble from her anymore. Small mercies.
“Get up, Waryn,” Quin said as she wrapped an arm around Glyma’s waist and led her toward the front door. Waryn was still on the ground, eyes wide with trepidation. Quin glared down at him. “Waryn, get up!”
Jolting from his stupor, he awkwardly scrambled to his feet. “Yes, right. I—well, I do apologize. I think I may have soiled myself.”
“I think we all may have soiled ourselves,” Quin said, and Waryn nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Glyma repeated.
“Has that ever happened before?” Waryn asked, and Glyma shook her head.
Then she hesitated and slowly nodded. “When I was a kid. I thought it had been a dream.”
“Indeed,” Waryn said, keeping some distance as he followed the women out of the dining room.
At the front door, Waryn opened it and ushered Glyma through. Footsteps trailed behind them, and Quin checked over her shoulder, startling at the presence of the Anura.
“Can I help you?” Quin asked.
“I’m coming with you,” she said in her nasally voice, like it was obvious.
“You are?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she pointed first at Glyma, then back the way they’d come. “She’s way scarier than your mom. I’m sticking with you guys.” She waddled across the hall to the high entry table and snatched the silver candelabra from it. Then she tottered past Quin and out the door. At Quin’s brow raise, she shrugged. “What? I’m not leaving here with nothing.”
At the car, Waryn was opening the back door for Glyma, who looked like she was moments away from going into shock. She tracked the Anura’s approach, offering a wobbly smile.
“Oh, hey, I’m Glyma.”
“You already said that,” the Anura said, giving Glyma a clinical onceover. “I’m Tad.”
“Hi, Tad,” Glyma said. “Do you need a ride?”
With only a second of thought, Tad nodded. “Pop the trunk.”
Waryn did, and Tad gleefully crawled into it, candelabra in hand.
“Who’s she?” he asked, and Quin shook her.
“Haven’t the slightest idea.”
On the drive home, Glyma curled against Quin and shook. She rubbed warmth into Glyma’s arms and kissed her head, speaking soft reassurances into her hair.
“What am I?” Glyma whimpered, and Quin tightened her hold.
“You’re Glyma, and you’re mine.”
“My dad wasn’t an Incubus, was he?” she asked, sounding small and frightened.
Quin shook her head. “I don’t think so, love.”
“Are you afraid of me?” she asked next, and Quin’s heart hurt at the question.
“No. You scared me, yes. But I’m not afraid of you. I may not know what you are, but I knowwhoyou are, and that is all that matters.”
Lifting her head, Glyma blinked back tears. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Quin said, tracing the swell of her cheek with her thumb. “Maybe just invest in an anger management course or two.”
