“Fine, yes. I’ll make sure they bring a large enough cart with them,” Cole said dismissively.
Taking that tone as his cue to leave, Ty nodded in appreciation and turned to walk out.
“Oh, but Ty,” Cole said, stopping him as he left with a warning tone. “I’m worried this is becoming somewhat of a pattern, and I would caution you to not let it become a habit.”
“Let what become a habit?” Ty asked, knowing he was walking right into whatever trap Cole had laid for him with that comment.
“This…softness forwitches,” Cole replied, spitting out the word “witches.” “I know your mother was one, but you’re a daemon, Ty, through and through. Don’t forget that.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Ty said truthfully. “I never will.”
Chapter Eight
Ena
Enasteppedoutofthe bathtub, her skin shriveled like a prune after being in the water for so long. Her dark hair dripped on the floor as she searched for a towel, eventually finding one tucked on an open wooden shelf in the corner of the small stone chamber.
Wrapping herself in it, she went to the mirror and wiped away the steam to take a look at her appearance. Her hair was longer than when she’d left home, and her eyes were sunken with dark circles. She’d definitely lost some weight with all the traveling and scarce food, but hopefully she’d be eating more regularly now, and that would remedy itself. She was grateful to be done moving around for the time being, and hopefully get some better rest.
She was about to look away, but her eyes caught on theimperaecollar around her neck.
She hadn’t lied to Ty; she really was okay with wearing it if it kept their true mission a secret. But the iron still felt strangearound her neck. She knew the magic didn’t work on her, but knowing what it did to others, and what it represented, left her unsettled.
It was harsh in appearance, almost crude. She could tell already that daemons were expert blacksmiths and metallurgists, but they had not put the same artistry into this collar. It was basic—almost ugly. But she supposed that made sense. Why waste your people’s talents on an artifact that was meant to enslave those deemed less worthy?
Dragging her eyes from it, she looked around the bathing chamber instead. It was interesting, seeing all of Ty’s little belongings scattered around. There were metal scissors, and a bone-handled toothbrush made with pig bristles. She saw a sewing kit, too, not unlike the one she’d stitched him up with a few weeks ago, and a large pumice stone next to the bath.
She never thought they’d have a chance to be so…domestic, and she found herself endlessly fascinated by all the small things that made him, him.
Wandering out of the bathroom, she took in the rest of Ty’s room. It was cozier than she’d imagined, with all the rugs and the warmth from the hot springs flowing throughout the Underworld. Not that she’d imagined anything like this at all, really. She’d thought he was mortal for so long. Part of her felt like it was still trying to catch up to everything that had changed in such a short time.
Walking over to the bed where she’d left her dirt-covered dress, she debated putting it back on for a minute, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. After weeks of travel in the same outfit, and all the horse-riding and ground-sleeping she’d done, it was filthy and worn, so she walked to Ty’s armoire instead. He had to have something in there that she could wear until her clothes could be cleaned.
She opened the creaky piece of furniture to find a few clean shirts hanging inside next to several wool coats. She pulled one of the shirts out and let her towel fall to the floor before pulling it over her head. Since no one was around, she indulged herself in giving it a deep sniff.
It smelled like Ty—the cedar and honey scents most notable in the fresh clothing, and the feeling of his presence wrapped around her, comforting her, despite his physical absence.
Gaia, she was glad no one had been around to see that. There was no denying—she had it bad.
At least she knew she wasn’t alone in that fact now. Her stomach fluttered slightly, thinking of last night and everything that Ty had said…and what they’d done.
Her thoughts were interrupted when there was a decisive knock on the door.
Ena whipped her head towards it. Glancing down at her attire, she hesitated. Should she answer the door? This was Ty’s room. Was she technically allowed here, as a witch-slave? Would their cover be blown already? They hadn’t discussed any of that before he’d left.
She flitted around nervously for a second, before deciding that, no, Ty would have warned her if she needed to stay hidden, and he’d said that she’d be safe here, so she cautiously went to the door and cracked it slightly.
A woman stood in the hallway. She was tall, with dark-auburn hair and brown eyes. She had a few freckles scattered across her cheeks, and they moved as she smiled friendlily at Ena.
“You must be Ena. I’m Steig’s wife, Lara. I was sent to bring you some clothes,” she said, holding up an armful of said clothing.
“Oh,” Ena said, opening the door a bit more. Wait—should she trust this person? She’d heard a decent amount about Steig’swife, but she had no idea whether this person was actually her. She could be lying…
Ty hadn’t said how cautious to be with the other daemons yet, and she hadn’t thought to ask. But hehadsaid that being his witch-slave afforded her some protection from the other daemons, who weren’t allowed to touch her without his permission, and this woman did seem to genuinely be here to bring her clothes.
She opened the door the rest of the way and stepped aside as Lara entered the room.
The woman looked Ena up and down, noting her strange choice in attire. “Looks like I came just in time,” Lara said jokingly.
