His presence shocked me awake. My eyes widened, and my spine straightened.
“Poppy,” I said. “You’re here.”
I couldn’t hold back the awe in my voice. My friend had come back from the dead. There were so many things I wanted to ask him—like how he was evenalive.
“Hi, Rorik,” Poppy murmured, fussing with his fingers. He looked uncomfortable, like he’d rather be elsewhere but was doing his best to be brave.
He tilted his head to glance past me. “Um… is everything okay in there?”
Despite my burning questions, I let him control the conversation. He deserved that much.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He sniffed the air with a worried expression. “I don’t smell blood…”
“Why would there be blood?”
Poppy leaned deeper. He was not subtle as he scanned the room behind me. “Um… You know.”
“I don’t,” I admitted. Then I stepped out of the way, letting him get a full glimpse. “You can come in. By the way, how did you find my room?”
Poppy’s eyes softened as he met my gaze. “I followed your scent. It’s so familiar... I could never forget it.”
My heart filled with fondness for my old friend. For now, I held back my bombardment of questions. It was enough just to see him alive and well.
Poppy chewed his lip as he surveyed the room. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sighed in relief, but he wasn’t relaxed. His small body bristled with tension until he finally swung around and blurted, “Rorik, you didn’t kill Saffron, did you?”
The desperation in his voice struck me. He was trembling. Terrified.
“No,” I said.
Should I have?I wondered. My internal doubts flared up again. My training and beliefs warred with my new, messy emotions.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Poppy cried. His tension vanished, and he went limp as a doll. The fear was a puppet controlling his strings; as soon as I told him Saffron was alive, Poppy collapsed on the edge of the bed in relief.
Why did Poppy care so much about Saffron? It wasn’t that I felt jealous; Poppy’s feelings clearly weren’t romantic.
Damn it all.
Weremine?
I didn’t know what to think anymore.
Pushing down those ridiculous ideas, I sat next to Poppy. I noticed he tensed slightly.
Was he… afraid of me?
Hurt pierced me like a lance. A sick feeling swam in my gut. I never, ever wanted him to be scared of me.
A sudden image flashed in my head: the sight of Saffron’s unnatural talons on his human hand. At that moment, I felt scared of him.
No, that wasn’t quite it. I wasn’t afraid of Saffron—I was afraid of what he represented.
My sworn enemy. One I felt something for. Whatwashe to me?
Frustrated, I shook my head. Now was not the time to spiral. I had to stay strong for Poppy’s sake.
“Poppy. I would never harm you. You know that,” I said quietly.
