“I thought Niamh’s thrall ended the night of the hunt?”
WhenI’d broken it, I meant, but I didn’t say it aloud. Liam and Thomas had agreed it was best if no one knew the extent to whichI’d been involved in undoing Niamh’s bindings on the rest of the hunt’s participants.
The enforcers in the room with us during Miriam’s questioning might realize I could see through glamours at some point, but they didn’t know about all the rest.
I suspected it wouldn’t be long, however. Already there were those like Niamh’s husband, who had guessed whatI’d done. Inara knew as well, since she was the one who’d called me“magic breaker”.
My days of keeping that ability under wraps were limited, but I saw no reason to hasten my revelation either.
Based upon the conversationI’d overheard during the trip back to the mansion the night of the hunt, it seemed as if people with abilities like mine were either hunted or enslaved. Given I was still a baby power-wise,I’d delay the inevitable as long as possible—at least until I had a hope in hell of protecting myself.
Given the way the hunt had ended, most people would assume Niamh’s death had been responsible for breaking her bindings, not me.
The Fae’s hunt had been successful and established the beginnings of a barrow. It just hadn’t had the prey Niamh intended.I’m told her ending was not pleasant or merciful. I was just relieved she was dead and we didn’t have to worry about her again.
“The thrall did break,” Daniel confirmed.“But he planted himself in that room and hasn’t come out since. This has hit him hard.”
I nodded. I could understand that. For someone at the top of the food chain, it would be difficult to be confronted with your weakness. To be forced into actions that weren’t your own. It was a devastating violation.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Thomas asked.“I’m told he’s been quite ugly to others who’ve tried to talk to him.”
I had no doubt about that.
“He’s my friend,” I said.
That was the only answer I had. In my world, you didn’t leave friends to hurt alone. They needed to know someone was there—that someone cared, even when they were in the deepest parts of night.
It might not make a difference, but then again, it might.
Thomas sighed as he studied me. Whatever he saw there must have convinced him of my stubbornness because he gestured at Daniel.
Daniel shook his head but opened the door.“Good luck.”
I took a deep breath and stepped inside. Despite the lights, the room still managed to be dark. It was bare of any amenities beyond a simple cot and chair.
Nathan sat in the corner on the ground, his legs drawn up as he stared at me.
I hesitated in the doorway. Now that I was here, I wasn’t entirely sure what to say.
“You should go,” Nathan said tiredly.
I walked forward and sank down against the wall a few feet from him. I leaned my head back and waited. I didn’t say anything as I kept him company.
Sometimes words were ineffectual niceties. When your life has imploded enough that the act of getting up seems like more work than its worth, it doesn’t help to have someone whisper meaningless platitudes. It just isolates you further.
Still, there was no reason he had to sit alone.
“This place is a lot nicer than the wolf’s cage,” I told him, looking around.
For one thing, it didn’t look like a cage, even if that’s what it was. The surroundings might have been simple, but it looked like a normal room, plain though it might be.
“How long do you plan to hang out in here?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. Silence grew between us.
I nodded and went back to staring at the other wall. I relaxed into the quiet. It’d been a long time since I simply sat and thought. My life had become filled with action. There was always something to do, some crisis to solve. It was kind of nice to do nothing for once.
When my butt cheeks got sore, I turned onto my side, stretching out and folding my arm under my head.
