"Then you stay together." Varek's voice held no argument. "Drogga will show you when you're ready. There's a bed, a fire, and a lock on the inside of the door."
The last detail caught Mab's attention. A lock on the inside. Not to keep them in, but to let them keep others out. Such a small thing. Such an enormous thing.
"What about Mab?" Annie's voice was muffled against Tibbs's shoulder, but the worry in it came through clearly.
"Mab stays with me."
Annie lifted her head, her brow furrowed. "In the same room?"
"In the same bed." Varek's voice was matter-of-fact. "She's mine. Where I sleep, she sleeps."
Annie's eyes widened. She looked at Mab, then at Varek, then back at Mab with an expression that was equal parts confusion and concern.
"It's all right," Mab said. The words came out calmer than she felt. "I'll be fine."
"But—" Annie bit her lip. "What if you need us? What if something happens?"
"Then I'll come find you." Mab reached across the table and squeezed Annie's hand.
"Can we visit?" Tibbs asked. His voice was careful, testing. "If we need to see her?"
"You can visit." Varek's thumb continued its slow circles against Mab's hip. "You're not prisoners. You're not servants. You're under my protection, which means you go where you want, when you want, as long as you don't do anything stupid."
"What counts as stupid?" Tibbs asked.
"Walking into the armory and picking fights. Wandering outside the walls alone. Trying to steal a horse." Drogga ticked the items off on his fingers. "The usual things that get young men killed."
"I wasn't planning to steal a horse," Tibbs said.
"Good. Then we won't have a problem." Drogga's grin returned, easy and warm. "Anything else is fair game. You want to explore, explore. You want to watch the warriors train, find a spot that's out of the way and watch. You want to sit in the kitchen and eat until you burst, the cooks won't stop you."
Annie's eyes were round. "We can just... do things?"
"You can just do things." Drogga leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's the secret, little one. You're not property. You're people. People do things."
The words landed somewhere in Mab's chest and stuck there.You're not property. You're people.
She'd never been property. Not technically. Scullions were paid, however poorly, and could leave if they found somewhere else to go. But the distinction had always felt academic. She'd belonged to the holding the way a pot belonged to the kitchen. Useful. Replaceable. Not worth thinking about except when something went wrong.
People do things.
"Come on." Drogga pushed back from the table and stood, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders popped. "Let's get you two settled before you fall asleep in your porridge."
Annie scrambled off the bench, then hesitated, looking back at Mab.
"Go," Mab said. "I'll come check on you later."
Annie nodded, still uncertain, but let Drogga guide her toward the door. Tibbs followed, pausing just long enough to look back over his shoulder.
Then they were gone, swallowed by the corridor, and Mab was alone with Varek.
Chapter 7
Varek's hands moved on her waist. Before she could register it, he'd turned her—lifted her, really, like she weighed nothing at all—and settled her facing him.
Straddling him.
Her knees bracketed his hips on the bench. The nightgown rode up, bunching around her thighs, and the only thing between her body and his was two layers of linen and whatever he was wearing beneath his leathers. Her hands landed on his shoulders for balance, fingers curling into the rough fabric of his tunic.
