I don't think she's in love.
She was afraid of him. Is afraid of him.
Which means she's not happily married. Means that kiss—both of them, the one at the Masquerade and the one yesterday—weren't just physical attraction or the bond pulling us together. They were desperation. A drowning woman gasping for air.
And I let her go back to him.
If she was married—even unhappy but taken care of—I'd walk away. But I'm starting to doubt that she entered that arrangement willingly.
I know how humans are treated by xaphan. But human women? Senna could be suffering. And then I remember what she said to me at the Masquerade.
I just want to know what it feels like to feel good with someone.
I surge to my feet, pacing the narrow space between the bed and the wall. My wings shift restlessly against my back, responding to the fury building in my chest.
I need to talk to her. Need to find out what the fuck is going on and why she's stuck in a marriage that clearly makes her miserable. Why she is clearly used to abuse and begged for touch that wasn't painful. Need to hear her say she wants this—wantsme—so I can figure out how to get her out.
Because I'm not walking away from this. From her.
The bond won't let me. My own damn heart won't let me.
But I don't know where to find her.
I grab my coat from where I threw it over the chair last night and head downstairs. The innkeeper barely glances up from wiping down the bar as I drop a few lummi on the counter and stride out into the cold morning air.
The village is just waking up, smoke rising from chimneys, a few early risers moving through the streets. It's small enough that everyone probably knows everyone's business, which means I need to be careful.
I head toward the stable where I saw Senna yesterday. Maybe someone there will know where she lives. Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll be there again.
The stable sits at the edge of the village, a weathered building that's seen better decades. A zarryn snorts from inside one of the stalls as I approach, its silver coat catching the morning light.
I'm about to call out when a woman rounds the corner, carrying a bucket of water. She stops dead when she sees me, honey-brown eyes going sharp with recognition.
She's human, curvy, with chestnut-brown skin and short springy curls that frame her face. Pretty in a way that would probably turn heads if she weren't currently looking at me like I'm a threat.
"You're Lorenth," she says. Not a question.
I nod slowly, trying to figure out how she knows my name.
She sets the bucket down with deliberate care, crossing her arms over her chest. "Senna told me about you."
Everything in me goes still. "Is she?—"
"She's alive, if that's what you're asking." The woman's voice is hard, protective. "But gods only know how long that will be true."
My hands curl into fists at my sides. "What does that mean?"
"It means her husband is a piece of shit who beats her whenever he feels like it." She takes a step closer, her chin lifting in challenge despite the fact that I've got more than a foot on her. "It means she came to my place last night covered in bruises because of what happened when he dragged her home. Because he saw her with you."
The rage that floods through me is so sharp, so immediate, that my vision briefly whites out. I force myself to breathe through it, to not let my wings flare or my magic surge.
"Where is she?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend.
The woman studies me for a long moment, her gaze searching my face like she's trying to decide if I'm worth the risk. "Why are you here?"
"Because I need to talk to her."
"That's not an answer."
