Shadowborn

Quick note on POVs:

# # #

Rhallani was going to be in so much trouble. Growing up, Xara had told her over and over to watch out for humans. That they’d use and abuse her until she had nothing left to give then throw her aside like trash. When Zaren had first found her in the tower, she’d been terrified of him. It had been Xara’s voice in in her head when she stabbed him. She’d been more terrified in that moment—even more so than when she thought she’d starve to death alone in that trap—than she’d ever been. Then everything had gone weird.

She’d stabbed him. Actually stabbed him. And he’d brushed it off. Like it had been little more than an inconvenience. She’d tried to make up for it, just like she’d been taught, and he’d brushed it off. Xara had spent most of Rhallani’s teenage years teaching her how to act around humans to avoid angering them, but following Xara’s lessons had only seemed to annoy Zaren. He was so much bigger than her, and the way he moved made him seem ten times more dangerous.

He had such intense sapphire eyes that seemed to burn right through her. Her body had heated up every time she caught him looking at her out of the corner of her eye. The way they roamed over her, almost reluctantly. He’d tear his gaze away, only for it to be drawn back. It was like he was trying everything he could not to look at her exposed skin and he just couldn’t help himself. She hadn’t lasted long before she was trying to bait out those glances, feeling a sense of pride every time his willpower crumbled. It had her hot and bothered in a way she’d only ever experienced in the books Xara so often snuck her.

He was tall and dark and terrifying and…nice. Patient. Understanding. She hadn’t really understood how much so until they’d been ambushed. When he attacked those men, she caught a glimpse of what he looked like when he was truly angry, and it scared her almost as much as it stoked the heat in her chest anytime he was close enough to touch. He’d been furious and lethal, not at her, but for her.

At first she’d made a promise to herself to keep her distance from him. Then, when he’d turned out to be kind and charming and even a little funny she promised not to let it go any further than something akin to friendship. Then, after he’d used nothing but his fingers to bring her to mind-shattering orgasm, she promised she would only let him have her body, not her heart. Now here she lay, her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder, tracing the lines on his chest while he slept soundly. She’d failed on every count, it seemed.

Zaren mumbled something in his sleep, and she smiled. She’d been worried she’d given herself away last night when she’d used his full name, but then he’d proceeded to fuck her brains out and cuddled her to sleep. The scars were only part of how she figured it out. No level nine—or six, she supposed—could possibly have so many. There were a number of smaller ones that might have been old enough to be from before he’d gained his class, but most of them were far too new for that to be possible. And when she ran her fingers down the thin, barely noticeable line where she’d stabbed him, already on its way to fading from existence completely, she knew those injuries had to have been life threatening.

Then there was the way he’d fought. Rhallani hadn’t seen any sign of skills other than the ones he’d told her about, but he fought like a force of nature. It wasn’t just skill, either. The way he moved. The speed at which he made his decisions. How quick he’d been to dismantle those thugs in such an efficient way. It wasn’t training that made him the way he was, it was experience. Then, when he’d handed her the deed, she’d known. She didn’t know how it was possible, but he was the same Zaren Nocht that had helped kill the Abyssal King almost thirty years ago. She’d thrown out the lie about him being the true Zaren’s son, and she couldn’t help but notice that he neither confirmed nor denied it.

It terrified her, but she knew he could sense fear. She’d been as careful as she could to keep her emotions in check. He was hiding something, but he’d only known her for a week. She had no reason to expect him to divulge whatever incredible secret he was keeping, so she’d decided to simply wait for him to tell her when he felt ready. And then, at every step, she’d fallen for him harder and harder. She wanted to discover his secrets almost as much as she wanted him to confess them to her.

Which brought her to the notification she’d woken up to.

[Skill Evolution Detected]

She’d never had a skill evolve before. With her uncommon non-combat class, she’d honestly expected it to never happen. She knew skill evolutions were either tied to specific feats or repeated specific usage of a skill, and the nature of her newly evolved skill worried her, especially because it had replaced the skill she’d been most proud of: Secret Hunter.

It was a skill she’d never heard of before, and that had thrilled her. It was thanks to that very skill she was able to uncover the information that had led her to Valethar Karn’s tower. To Zaren. Now it was gone, replaced by what she could only hope was a superior version of the skill.

It had an epigraph, which had nearly made her faint from excitement. Only legendary and mythic skills had epigraphs. For her to have earned even a legendary skill with an uncommon class meant either divine intervention or a great feat. The only thing she could think of that she’d done was puzzle out Zaren’s true identity, which meant she couldn’t possibly tell him about the skill yet. She wanted him to be the one to tell her his identity. She didn’t know how he’d react if he found out she knew.

Almost as if he could sense her thoughts, she felt his hand stroke her hair. She closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the sensation of his fingers threading through her silver-gold locks. She’d always hated her hair since it was such a dead giveaway of her blood, but he seemed to enjoy it greatly. With how good it felt anytime he ran his hands through it, she was very tempted to grow it out longer than it was.

When she finally decided to look up at him, she was alarmed to meet his eyes. That was yet another oddity about him she’d noticed: he never made a sound when he woke. She wondered if it was part of his class or if it was a habit he’d picked up. A habit he’d been forced to pick up. Another mystery to eat at her, not that she minded. He was practically mysteries wrapped in more mysteries wrapped in a very attractive form that she desperately wanted to run her hands across at all times.

But gazing into the deep blue of his intense stare always sent such a thrill through her. His hand continued to gently stroke her hair, and she hummed happily. She was loathe to move from her incredibly comfortable spot in the crook of his arm, but she pushed herself towards his face for a quick kiss anyways. He met her halfway, and she settled back into his arms.

He smiled down at her. His smile was another thing that drove her crazy. It was always so held back, like he was afraid if he smiled too wide the world would take whatever it was that made him happy. “Good morning.” His voice sent chills through her. Deep and smooth, it carried a kind of promise with it that made her heart skip a beat. Gods, she was in trouble.

“One of the best I’ve had in a while, that’s for sure,” she said back.

She closed her eyes when he ran a knuckle down her jaw. Gods she loved the way he touched her. Not when he was using those callused hands to send waves of pleasure through her, though she enjoyed that immensely, but the light caresses that always left her feeling slightly giddy. So casual, yet so intimate feeling.

She could see uncertainty in his eyes, but that was nothing new. The only time he seemed sure of himself was when he had a weapon in hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Very sore.” Her whole lower body felt like one big bruise, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

He chuckled, and the vibrations from the laugh rumbled through his chest. “Noted, but that isn’t what I mean. Are you really okay with…” he ran the thumb of the hand not trapped underneath her across the strap of leather at her throat.

She bit back a sigh. She took his fingers and guided them to the side of her face, and he caressed her gladly.

“Ren, the only thing about yesterday I regret,” he tensed at the word, “is that by the time you came inside me I was so thoroughly fucked that I didn’t get to fully enjoy it.”

Gods, the words sounded even more ridiculous out loud than they had when she’d read them. She quickly filed them under things to never say again, but not before she noticed a twitch from the sheets over his crotch. Fuck, she wished she could feel her legs right now.

He relaxed though, and that had been her goal. Then, to her pleasure, he said in a husky voice, “I guess we’ll just have to remedy that next time.”

It was official. She was the luckiest Arelim to ever be born. She couldn’t stop herself from reliving the moment where she’d told him her depraved thoughts while he fingered her into oblivion. If he’d been into that, would he be willing to help her live out some of her other fantasies? But she shook the thought away. There would be time for that later. Hopefully.

She nestled into him and closed her eyes again. After nearly dying no less than four times, she felt she deserved a little rest. “Anytime you want me, I’m yours.”

“I’d say the same was true in reverse, but I’m not sure we’d ever leave the room.”

She giggled. So what if he was hiding things from her? If he kept making her feel this happy, then he could have all the secrets he wanted. If she was dreaming, she never wanted to wake up. She hadn’t felt this warm, content, and safe since… well, ever.

Then his next words brought her high crashing down.

“Rhallani, I think we should talk. About what comes next.”

Oh no. She tried to tamp down her terror. Xana had told her over and over that men would do anything to get her into bed only to dump her after. She knew he’d never do that to her, but there was still a voice in the back of her mind that told her it was all too good to be true. He had to have felt her spike in fear, because his hand started working slow circles on her back. She closed her eyes and just focused on the feeling. She was freaking out for nothing.

“Of course. I’m listening.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot these last few days,” he started. “You’re smart. Very smart.”

Was she too smart? She’d met many men who hated not being the smartest one in the room. The looks of disgust they’d shoot her anytime she did anything resembling showing off her intelligence had been a constant in her life. She swallowed, forcing herself to listen to his next words.

“I’m sure it hasn’t escaped you that I barely talk about myself,” he continued, completely unaware that he threatened to send her spiraling, “and you deserve to at least know why.”

Excitement warred with worry. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” she said too quickly, “I know you have secrets, and there’s no reason you have to tell them to me.” Silently she screamed at herself. That was the opposite of what she wanted!

“I disagree.” He started running his hand through her hair again, this time almost absentmindedly. “I like you. Quite a bit.” Her heart skipped a beat. “I’m not entirely sure what’s next for me, though I have some ideas. What I do know is that I want you there, if you’re willing.”

Could he feel her heart hammering in her chest? Staying with him was the only thing she wanted right now. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. “Does this have something to do with the goals you mentioned outside the guild?”

Even without looking at him, she knew he’d be smiling. “See? Smart. Don’t freak out when I ask this,” she prepared to thoroughly freak out, “but how serious were you about wanting a combat class?”

She tensed. She wanted one so badly it kept her up at night. Until she’d met him, it had driven nearly every decision she’d made. But those thoughts were dangerous for an Arelim to have. Humans weren’t fond of demi-humans trying to rock the boat. She’d had it drilled into her countless times to keep her head down if she wanted to stay safe and free.

But this was Zaren. If she couldn’t trust him, then she needed to know that now rather than later. “Very. Why?” Just those two words sent terror into her heart, and he shifted the arm she laid on to pull her more into his chest.

“My goals are… lofty. The tower, the bandits, they’re just the beginning. Things are just going to get more and more dangerous for me, and if that scares you then I need to know that now. If you want to keep being a scholar, I don’t want to put you in harm’s way.”

Her mouth felt oddly dry when she reached up and placed her hand over his heart. She could feel it hammering, and she realized he was just as nervous as she was. “I want to stay with you. Whatever that entails. You’re my Patron now. Your goals are my goals.”

That made him chuckle for some reason, and she finally made herself look at him. His smile was one of relief. “You have no idea how right you are.”

She rolled so that she could rest her arms on his chest, then her chin on her arms. “What does that mean?”
“First, let me ask this. There are things I can’t tell you right now and questions I know you have that even I don’t have an answer for. Are you okay with that?”

“I always loved a good mystery.”

He ran his hands down her bare back. “There’s something coming. Something bad. You can’t ask what it is or how I know just yet, you’ll just have to trust me. I need to change the world, and I think I’ll start with getting rid of these Accords and setting things right between humans and demi-humans.”

For what felt like a full minute, she forgot how to breathe. Had she heard him right? On one hand, it sounded completely insane. On the other, mythic classes were mythic for a reason. “You aren’t making fun of me, are you?”

“One day another fight for the fate of Kasidiel will occur. Demi-humans make up the majority of the population in this world, and we’ll need to be united if we want to stand a chance. Even ignoring that, nobody deserves to live like you’ve been forced to.” His hand found her cheek. “But, I’m going to need someone really smart to help me. Know anyone like that?”

She didn’t remember climbing up his body. The next thing she knew she was straddling him with her tongue wrestling with his. She felt scorching hot hands on her hips, and remembered that she was wearing nothing but her collar. When she pulled back, her face was burning with a heat that had little to do with embarrassment. She took pride in the way his eyes drifted over her chest hungrily.

“So what’s our first step?” Even she had to fight back a laugh at the enthusiasm in her own voice.

He ran his hands up her thighs, but made no move to become more intimate. “Your first step is to take the day off.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her by running his thumb across her lips. “You’ve had a rough week, and you’re not used to this kind of life yet.” She very much liked that he included that last word. “I am. Plus, I didn’t get fucked into oblivion last night. I’ll make my rounds and get us supplies, then I’ll see about this caravan that’s supposedly heading towards the capital. Once I’ve got a timeline, we can talk details.”

She nibbled the tip of his thumb. “Is that an order, Patron?”

His smile was clearly a trap, but even still she wasn’t ready for him to flip her so quickly and easily. One moment he was completely still, the next the room spun and he was looming over her, his face only inches from hers. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, which left her hips just off the bed. Gods, he was fast.

“It is now,” he growled before dipping his head and trailing kisses down her jaw. “Behave, and we can start ticking off those fantasies of yours one by one.”

Oh dear. That sent heat racing through her body, and she had half a mind to pull him into her regardless of if her body could handle it or not. But he’d issued a challenge, and the reward was much too sweet to pass up. “As you say, master,” she whispered.

Immediately she knew she’d made a mistake. His body locked up and a chill traveled the length of her spine. He pulled away without looking at her. “Please, never call me that.” There was a ragged edge to his voice. Suddenly some of his scars made more sense, and her heart shattered.

She put a hand on either side of his head and gently pulled him into her chest. Now it was her turn to run her fingers through his hair. She could very much see why he enjoyed it. “Never again, I promise.”

They laid like that for nearly half an hour, neither willing to break the silence that had formed. She cursed herself for saying something so foolish, but there was no taking it back. She’d just have to make it up to him later. Eventually, he kissed her goodbye and left to take care of his to do list. She watched him go, sending another prayer of thanks to whatever god or goddess put her in his path. The moment the door closed behind him, she decided on the question she’d use her skill to ask.

How do I help Zaren?

# # #

Rhallani slept for the first half of the day, but eventually she had to leave the comfort of her room to empty her bladder and find something to eat. The former went off without a hitch, but the latter task is when everything went completely wrong.

At first she’d been confused by the strange looks she received, especially from the male patrons as she waded through the common room towards where the innkeeper stood. Then one commented on how lovely her voice was, and she’d gone completely scarlet. It hadn’t even occurred to her that the sound of her cries might carry through the walls, and she hadn’t exactly been quiet last night. It didn’t help that her legs felt like jelly still, and her gait was a little bowlegged.

She’d just order food then take it up to her room and eat it away from the stares she felt on her. For the first time, she wished she had some less revealing clothes on. Her humiliation only grew worse when the woman behind the bar discreetly offered her a vial of something that would help her recover. She’d taken it gratefully, and almost immediately some of the soreness started to fade.

A steaming pile of mutton landed in front of her at the same time [Arcane Intuition] went off. Her gaze had been drawn by the indignant cry of one of the barmaids. Apparently one of the customers had gotten a little handsy. When she saw the customer in question, however, alarm bells started going off in her head. Literally. A wave of cold washed over her at the sight of the stranger like she’d been dunked in ice water, and her intuitive understanding of her new skill told her that it was having a very negative reaction to him.

He was large and thick. As tall as Zaren, only broader in the shoulders. His face was much crueler, too, and the sneer he shot at the barmaid sent the poor girl running. He was bald, and his eyes were dark with malice. She still didn’t know what Zaren’s goals were, but she knew that this man was somehow a threat to them. She wanted to run back to her room and hide under the covers, but she couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to help the man who’d saved her life in more ways than one.

Her humiliation forgotten, she planted herself in the seat and started eating, keeping an eye on the bald man. She ate slowly, but she’d almost run out before he finally stopped harassing the barmaids and took his leave. The moment he was out of sight she raced after him. Zaren was going to be furious, but she wasn’t going to ignore her new skill.

Thanks to his stature and the way people avoided him on sight, the man wasn’t exactly hard to follow. Rhallani did her best to stay at a distance, always staying close to buildings so she could duck behind cover if she needed to. She felt a thrill every time someone looked at her, saw her collar, then dismissed her from their thoughts, but each time she forced herself to focus on her quarry.

She thought he was heading for the Adventurer’s Guild, but he walked straight past the front door and turned the corner of the building. It wasn’t long before she realized where he was going and her stomach dropped. He’d entered the one place every demi-human feared. The Pens.

Cells little more than cages where indebted demi-humans were held until they could be moved to a more permanent location. Many of them never got that far, as anyone with proper Patronage could walk in and claim the indebted if they had the funds to do so. Was this man a Patron? For a completely different reason, Rhallani found herself incredibly thankful for the enchanted leather around her throat.

Walking into that building went against every instinct she had, but she’d come this far. Hoping she didn’t look as terrified as she felt, she followed the man through the door. Luckily, her hesitation hadn’t cost her, as he’d gotten caught up flirting with the woman behind the counter. Rhallani could tell by her expression that the woman wanted nothing to do with him, but she silently sent a prayer of thanks for the receptionist’s sacrifice. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to endure him too long.

There was a board that had a list of bounties on criminal demi-humans, so Rhallani got busy looking it over. She didn’t bother reading the words, she simply stood where she could see the man out of the corner of her eye. What was he doing here? Was he after a specific demi-human? Was he after a bounty? She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t see the second employee until he was almost upon her.

“Is there something I can help you with,” His eyes flicked down to her collar, “miss?”

Rhallani’s breath caught in her throat. She had no clue what to say. Worse, the man she’d been following had stopped to look in her direction. His eyes traveled over her and she felt revulsion rising in her chest. When he shot a slimy grin at her, she had to grip her skirt to keep from running.

She was smart. Zaren had said he wanted to count on her in the future, so it was time to earn her keep. She turned to the employee and said the words as they came to mind. “My Patron is interested in procuring another demi-human, and he sent me to see if you had any he might be interested in.”

The man’s brow raised. A Patron collecting an indebted servant meant commission. She’d managed to jump from insignificant Arelim to payday in his eyes. “Right this way, then.”

She could feel the bald man’s eyes on her while she followed the man into the place that had haunted most of her nightmares since she’d been a girl. She’d be alright. She wore a collar. She had a Patron, so there was nothing they could do to her. Even if they did try something, Zaren would come for her, right?

“Looking for anything in particular?” her guide asked.

She tried not to vomit at the sound of him reducing people like her to a shopping list. “I know my Patron’s tastes. If I see one he’ll like, I’ll let you know.”

The man mumbled something under his breath, but she was too nervous to hear it. Thankfully, in a town this size, most of the pens were empty. That didn’t make the sight of the thin, soiled mattresses on the floor or the cells occupied by only a bucket any less terrifying.

The first one they saw was an Oni that would have towered over even Zaren. His horns nearly scraped the ceiling, and his dark red flesh was covered in grime. He was covered in scars, and his snarl at them when they passed made her heart leap into her throat. Then there was an older Kitsune woman who looked at them with dark eyes. The fur on her foxlike ears and tails was filthy and matted. After that were two scarred Tieflings that were wrapped in chains. From the way they looked at her when she passed, she wondered if they might not actually belong here.

She stopped outside the cell of a girl who couldn’t have been any older than she was, and not just because of the bruises and welts that covered her from head to toe. Rhallani had just enough time to take in her swollen-shut eye, the raw strips of flesh around her wrists, and the clear handprints on her dark violet forearms and neck before her skill activated a second time that day.

This time it was different. Rather than icy cold, she felt like heat exploded in her chest. It wasn’t the warmth that she felt around Zaren either. It was fiery hot. Urgent. Demanding. The girl was important, and Rhallani needed to get her out of here immediately.

“This one,” she said, her voice trembling. She cleared her throat. “My Patron will want this one for sure.”

The girl’s eyes rose to regard Rhallani. They were crimson, and her pupils were vertical slits that Rhallani could barely make out. Her hair looked like it might be a similar shade of red, but it was hard to tell from the dirt and mud in it. It didn’t help that it was short and choppy, and Rhallani thought she could see parts where it had been torn out. Her skin was a deep shade of gray that bordered on blue, and odd markings wove up her left arm. Rhallani wasn’t sure what race the girl was, if she was being honest, but that wasn’t really what bothered her. There was barely any light behind the girl’s eyes. She regarded them dully, like she could barely be bothered to acknowledge the person talking about taking her from this place.

“You don’t want this one,” the man said quickly. “That big brute in the lobby? He pays her nearly daily visits. Waiting on his boss to come claim her, apparently.” He grimaced. “Trust me when I say you don’t want to piss that one off. I mean, just look at her.” He gestured towards the poor girl.

Rhallani suddenly regretted eating so much back at the inn. She was going to be sick. “And you just let him?” she demanded before she could stop herself.

The man just shrugged. “He waived commission, so she doesn’t actually belong to the pens. She’s still in his custody, we’re just housing her.”

This was no longer just about helping Zaren. She couldn’t just leave the girl to her fate. She wouldn’t. “Can she be claimed?”

“I told you, you don’t want—”

Rhallani squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, letting her anger banish her fear. “Can. She. Be. Claimed?”

The man sighed. “Yes, technically, though it’s frowned upon to poach someone else’s capture. Not that I mind screwing that asshole over.” He shook his head. “Your funeral, girl.”

Girl. She’d almost forgotten how small it made her feel. “The terms?”

“According to her bit, she’s here for larceny and attempted murder. Minimum is five years, max is sixty.”

Five years! Zaren was going to absolutely murder her. “The minimum, then. Let’s make this quick. I’m sure you don’t want him to see you leading his catch away.”

That lit a fire under the man. Rhallani wanted to hit him when he ran into the cell and jerked the girl to her feet. The girl, though, didn’t resist. She didn’t even make a sound while he hauled her out and towards the back. “We’ll go out this way. I’ll grab a collar from the back.”

Rhallani had no choice but to follow. On her feet the girl was even shorter than Rhallani was, and her gut twisted when she saw the girl’s back. Two jagged nubs poked out from her shoulder blades, sticking through the hastily cut holes in her shirt. She was a Seraphim, and someone had cut away her wings.

Every second it took for the man to select another plain black leather collar was agony. Even while he stood next to her, pressing the clasp against the side of her own collar to bond it to Zaren’s magic, she expected the bald man to come thundering in. By the time he’d taken Zaren’s information and she’d told him to send the bill to the guild, her hands were trembling. When he finally handed the girl over to Rhallani, it took everything in her not to sprint out the door.

It was early afternoon when Rhallani led the girl back to the inn. Through the entire trip, neither said a word. It wasn’t until they were safely back in Zaren’s room that Rhallani stopped to allow her panic attack to run its course. She sat on the bed, hyperventilating, while the girl watched passively. As badly as she wanted him to wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be okay, she was thankful he wasn’t here.

He’d been reluctant to indebt her even with her begging, and Rhallani had just acquired him a servant for five years. He could always sell her off, technically, but he’d never do it. It was the only thing worse than what she’d just done.

It took her far too long to collect herself, but she finally managed to get her breathing under control. She pushed her hair back and took a breath. She looked to the Seraphim girl, hoping to see something other than the dead expression she’d worn at the Pens. There was no change.

“What’s your name?” Rhallani asked.

The girl’s face remained expressionless. She took so long to respond that Rhallani began to wonder if she even spoke the common tongue, but finally she said, “this one’s name is whatever this one’s master wishes it to be.” Her voice was flat and without inflection, but it was also soft and small.

Oh, gods, Zaren was going to murder her. She gently put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, but there was no reaction. “My name is Rhallani.” She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the poor girl. There was no telling when she’d last been able to bathe, and there was every chance that her last bath had consisted of little more than a bucket of cold water being thrown at her. “What do you say we get you cleaned up? I bet you’ll feel better.”

The girl made no response, so Rhallani pulled out her cloak and wrapped it around the Seraphim’s tiny frame. The edges of the nubs on her back were long healed over, so her mutilation wasn’t a recent thing. She pulled the hood low and led the girl through the inn. She stopped long enough to purchase a second room, the one across the room from theirs, then went straight to the baths.

The girl still gave no reaction and made no sound while Rhallani undressed them both, then led her into the bath proper. The Seraphim was skin and bones. Rhallani could see her ribs under her taught flesh, and she suspected starvation was the reason her breasts were nonexistent as well. She sat the girl down and started washing, but every bit of grime she washed off just made her nausea worse and worse. Dark blue handprints, cuts, teeth marks, and mottled bruises covered nearly every inch of her. She had to be in immense pain, but still she showed no expression.

It took her over an hour to get the girl clean. She’d washed her hair three times before it reached the fiery crimson she knew it to be. The state of it made Rhallani want to weep. Grown out, it would be beautiful. As if all of that weren’t bad enough, under the litany of marks on the girl’s back were half a dozen long crisscrossing scars. When she was finished, she gently pulled the girl’s head to rest in her bosom.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, stroking the girl’s hair. She stayed like that as long as she dared, then helped the girl dry and dress. She refused to put her back into those horrible rags, so the girl ended up in an extra set of Rhallani’s clothes. Their size difference made them considerably less revealing, but Rhallani would still beg Zaren to get the girl some fresh clothes as soon as possible.

Shit. Zaren. She’d allowed herself to get distracted by the girl long enough that she’d almost forgotten. He was going to lose it. There was no way he didn’t freak out when she told him. How was she going to tell him? He hadn’t hated her for any reason so far, but surely this was simply too much.

She took the girl to the second room she’d bought and tucked her into the bed. Rhallani told her to rest and not to leave the room for any reason, then locked it from the outside and retreat to the room she’d shared with Zaren. Last night suddenly seemed so far away.

She was clever. She needed some way to spin this so that Zaren would let the girl stay but wouldn’t beat himself up about it too much. If she could manage it, she needed to find a way to keep him from hating her while she was at it, but that was lower on the list of priorities than she would have liked.

Hand to her chin and chewing her lip, she began to pace.