He didn’t move to sit by Thomas but stood by the sink, ate the last few bites, set the bowl with the others, then left the room.
“Take a seat at the table,” Winifred said, looking at me.
Still thinking of Anton’s lack of food, I spoke to Mary as I moved to do as Winifred asked.
“Tomorrow, we’ll make two pots of stew. Whoever brings the meat should double what’s being brought. It doesn’t have to be the same kind of meat. Two rabbits and two pheasants would work.”
“All right,” Mary said, sitting next to me.
Winifred set the iodine and bandages to the side, moved my hair away, and bent close to look at the stitches.
“I see the tear. And the new marks.” The last bit she said with exasperation.
“I thought it best to get the remaining attempts out of the way,” I said.
“I’m concerned that, though those here have agreed not to attempt another Claiming, others might still want to try. What happened a few days ago proves—”
“Winifred,” Thomas said sharply.
“Pup,” she growled, “I will not tolerate another interruption. You’ve voiced your opinions; now, let me do my duty.”
“Your duty is to keep the peace. There’s peace here. You can leave.”
My mouth popped open, and I turned to stare at Thomas. Mary tugged my hand. I looked at her and saw she was standing.
Annoyed with Thomas, I pulled my hand from Mary’s and stood.
“I think you should show Winifred a bit more respect,” I said to Thomas. “You told me this place is in her name. She’s the only one of you out in the real world, working to make sure you can keep it. Without her, where would you be? Have you asked yourself that?”
He held my gaze and slowly exhaled. His arms dropped to his sides, and he ran a hand through his hair.
“Winifred, I apologize,” he said. Though he didn’t sound condescending, he didn’t sound sincere either. “Do what you think is best.”
He turned and left. The common room remained quiet for several heartbeats as Winifred and Mary stared after him.
“I believe he’ll grow to be a good leader,” Winifred said.
At first, I thought she was talking to herself, but Mary nodded. When Mary noticed she had my attention, she blushed guiltily. I frowned, studying Mary.
“Let’s see if we can take these stitches out,” Winifred said, bringing the focus back to my wounds.
The skin of my neck felt tight as I lay in my bed. I’d escaped from the common room after my stitches had been removed, tired from a long day.
Thomas’ slow breaths kept me company in the dark as he leaned against the door again. With Winifred here, I’d thought maybe she would stay in the room with me, but when I said I was ready for bed, she’d remained in the main room. However, like magic, Thomas had appeared.
Mary had once again blushed guiltily, and Winifred had scowled angrily. I wondered what about Thomas had both of them acting that way, and the wondering was keeping me awake. If not for Mary’s guilt, I would have easily pinned Winifred’s anger on his arrogant ways. It bothered me that my only two supporters were acting oddly around the person who’d wanted me here the least. And, I didn’t know what to think of Thomas. After his failed bite, I’d expected more hostility. Instead, he’d held me while I cried and had kissed me. I understood why he’d kissed me before trying to bite me. He’d thought it would help. But why kiss me again? There was no point to it. And now here he was, sitting in my room to protect me.
I yawned hugely and rolled over again. The bed was warm and comfortable, but I couldn’t stop thinking.
“Can’t sleep?” Thomas asked quietly.
“No. I want to, but my mind won’t let me.”
“Want to talk?”
“I don’t know...” I had questions but wasn’t sure he would answer them.
“Why are you hesitating?”
“Because I’m not sure about you.” And like a broken dam, the words didn’t stop there; they continued to flow. “You didn’t like me. Then, you wanted to bite me. When I gave you what you wanted, instead of leaving me alone, you watch me even more. You seem annoyed most of the time. I think you still don’t really like me, and I know you’re keeping things from me. But it’s not just you. I’m questioning whether it’s smart to continue making plans to stay here through the winter. My presence here obviously isn’t welcome. My neck can’t take any more holes; if it does, I’ll start spouting water every time I drink. Even if I’m not asked to leave, how can I possibly survive a winter here? Despite the steps we’re taking, I don’t think it will be enough. If the cold doesn’t kill me, malnourishment most likely will. How will talking about what’s on my mind change any of that? It won’t. Actions will. But I upset your kind if I talk about acting too much. So, no, I don’t think I want to talk about any of it.”
Silence answered the tirade I hadn’t planned on venting. Yet, I felt better for having said all of it.
“You will always have a place with me, and I will always listen.”