His focus snapped back on me. I felt his gaze slide over me like a palpable touch. “If it wasn’t for your trap,” he countered, “we wouldn’t even need your hospitality. We’d be safely on our way.”
I snorted. I couldn’t help myself. “Indeed? You think you would be safe? For how long?” I nodded toward his companions. “These two traveling with you are as quiet as stampeding horses.”
“How quiet would you be with your leg shattered to bits?” the girl complained.
“Enough,” Sivo declared, his voice settling over the group with authority. “We’ll take you up—see what we can do for that leg. Your weapons stay here though.”
Fowler adjusted his bow on his shoulder, the arrows rubbing against each other. His distrust flowed sharply in the space of the tunnel. He was the one who kept them alive. This I knew. He was primal. His weapons were as much a part of him as his own limbs. He didn’t move to set his weapons down and Sivo’s body tightened beside me. The point was nonnegotiable.
I rested a hand on Sivo’s arm and addressed Fowler. “If I wanted you dead, I would have just left you out there,” I murmured. “I never would have brought you here. You present as much risk to us as we to you.” More, I silently added. Sivo tensed beneath my fingers. He didn’t like me being this honest.
“Fowler?” the girl said softly. “Please.” Clearly they followed his lead, but she wanted inside.
After several moments, his deep voice replied, “Fine.”
I smiled slightly, amused that he thought there was ever any other possibility. Out there, death waited. In here, with us, they had a chance.
He stripped off his weapons. Once they were unarmed, Sivo turned, leading the way through the tunnel, his great shape cutting a path ahead of us. I hurried after him, lightly touching his sleeve, the sounds of weapons falling on the stone floor echoing behind me.
“Sivo?”
“Yes,” he grumbled back at me.
“Happy birthday.”
I was the first to reach the second floor and find Perla waiting. The fire in the hearth popped and crackled but it was nothing compared to the angry energy radiating off her. The warmer air sighed over my chilled skin. We gathered in this space daily. It was where we ate and where Perla knitted before the fire after meals. Where Sivo and I cleaned weapons and practiced knife throwing. The minutiae of our lives unfolded in this room. For Perla, it was her universe. To an extent, mine, too.
A hollowness spread through my chest, pushing everything else out. It was a familiar sensation that plagued me whenever I thought about my future here. Perla and Sivo wouldn’t be around forever. What would it be like when they were gone? They were the only people I had ever known. I talked to no one else. Touched no one. Heard no one.
Until now.
The air stirred as Perla paced before the hearth. When I cleared the threshold, she turned on me, snatching me up and embracing me with her soft, yielding body. Not that hugging let her forget her annoyance with me. She pulled back and gave me a small shake.
“You know the thoughts I’ve been suffering since waking up to find your bed empty? It’s bad enough when you venture out with Sivo . . . but to go alone when—”
“We have guests,” I interrupted, stopping her short.
Loosening her grip on my arms, she assessed the newcomers as they cleared the threshold behind Sivo. I could hear her thoughts spinning. Her breathing altered, too; grew raspy and agitated. She wanted them gone.
“You’re dripping blood all over my rug,” she finally muttered. “This way. You can use Luna’s room. She can bed with me.” Her joints creaked as she led them to my chamber.
I held back. Sivo hovered at my side. “You shouldn’t have brought them here, Luna.” His voice came out gravelly, tired—not like his usual self—and I felt a little guilty for being responsible for that.
“Did you expect me to leave them?”
“We cannot let them think we are vulnerable. They cannot know who you are—”
“They don’t know.” I understood his meaning. “There’s no reason for them to ever know.”
He released a rattling sigh. His breaths were like that a lot lately. Phlegmy and wet like he suffered from a perpetual ague. I didn’t want to think about what it might mean.
“That boy’s leg is going to take time to heal. It may never be right.”
“Whatever his leg is at the end of all this, it’s better than him being dead. Which is what he’d be if I left them out there. They’d all be dead.” Maybe not Fowler. He had been on the verge of running and leaving them. When I first stepped into their midst, I’d felt that. I’d known.
“What I’m saying . . .” His voice gentled into the tone he used when he talked me down from a tantrum. I hadn’t heard that voice since I was a child. I realized then just how defensive I felt. As though these strangers belonged to me, as though they were mine to keep. Stray pets that I found and intended to have with me forever. “. . . is that they can only stay a little while.”
And what was so wrong with them staying indefinitely?