“And so I didn’t,” Mari says.
She sniffles and swipes at her eyes, keeping her attention on the ladle in her hand. Even from across the room, I sense her guilt for not fighting harder. I know that guilt. When you feel as though you should’ve been a martyr, and yet you’re the one who’s spared.
“Mari,” I say, and she looks up at me. “It’s okay that you were scared. You still tried.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “I’m not very powerful. Especially when I’m scared. I didn’t want them to hurt anyone else.”
“And that’s understandable. You did your best. Nothing that happened here is your fault. Vexx was on a mission, and he succeeded.”
“We just aren’t sure how they figured out Finn was here,” Yaz interjects.
That thought settles within me. I shake my head and try to nibble on another bite of bread, though my stomach is only growing more nervous. “The prince and Thamaos and Vexx… they’ve had eyes all over, it seems.”
Eyes I pray are done watching us, though something tells me that is a fool’s hope.
Later, after Mari has tended my room, Yaz leads me upstairs to clean up, though I plan to also sleep if at all possible. She says nothing when I snatch a large bottle of red wine from the rack in the kitchen and tuck it underneath my arm.
Our walk is a solemn one, especially as we pass the room where Finn lost his life. The door is closed, and a blue satin ribbon decorated with sprigs of lavender and hellebore hangs from the knob.
“For his soul’s serenity,” Yaz says as we pass.
A few doors down, she opens the door to the bedchambers I shared with Helena just days ago. The light of a burning oil lamp and a low fire gives the room a warm glow, but it’s the steaming bath that makes me feel like I could melt.
Yaz gestures toward the tub. “There are clean linens and clothes for you, and a fresh pitcher of extra wash water and a tray of soaps. Otherwise, all is the same as before.”
A wave of sadness crashes over me as I cross the threshold. Nothing is the same as before.Nothing.
After stoking the fire in the small hearth, Yaz leaves me alone, still saying nothing about the wine I so brazenly stole. I remove the cork and turn it up, immediately feeling a sense of relief warming my belly, then spreading through my limbs. It isn’t quite enough, but it staves off the bite of hunger pinching my gut and temporarily soothes the craving I can’t define.
How odd.
I hold the bottle at arm’s length, studying the imprint reading THE WINE OF STARWORTH TOR. I’ve never had an issue with too much drink. This need to reach for a bitter red instead of food is new and worrisome.
As if I don’t have enough worries.
I set the wine on the table near the door, kick off my boots, and move to the wardrobe, slipping off my jacket. I can’t help but peek at the aether in my pocket, still squirming like a long worm. Shaking my head, I put the jacket away and finish undressing, hoping that thing doesn’t crawl free. I can’t make myself do away with it, though. A victim of curiosity, I suppose.
Always drawn to dangerous things.
Speaking of, the murmur of men’s voices carries from down the hall. It isn’t the right thing to do, but I move naked toward the door and press my ear against the slab.
“We sit on this information tonight, think it through. Then we end this tomorrow, if at all possible,” Alexus says. “And return this city to Northlander hands.”
“Agreed,” Neri replies. “Eye for an eye.”
First of all, I can barely believe my ears. They’re speaking civilly, and it isn’t about me. Secondly, a part of me wants to throw on my robe and charge into the hall, asking what they mean, but I’m just not ready to face the wolf after what happened in the garden. I need distance from him, yet I hear his booted footsteps growing heavy in the hall, footsteps I cannot believe I have learned to discern in such a short time.
He’s taking the room across from mine.
The room he occupied as Joran.
His footsteps pause, and it strikes me that not only can he hear me, but he can also scent me. Probably quite well, given that I’m nude save for the remnant of his warming heart that hangs between my breasts.
Like an idiot, I gently turn the lock on the door, then I hold my breath and quietly step away, waiting for him to acknowledge my pathetic effort at keeping a barrier between us.
But Neri says nothing. Instead, the door to his room creaks open and snicks shut.
For long moments, I stare blankly at my door, but then I grab the bottle of red, slip into my waiting bath, and sip wine while I soak and think.
