Page 8 of Bought By the Revenant
“The living room is this way,” he continues, gesturing toward an arched doorway.
I follow him and make sure to stay a few paces behind. The living room manages to be both grand and comfortable, with plush chairs and sofas arranged around a stone fireplace large enough to roast an entire deer. Bookshelves line the walls, and they’re stuffed with volumes of all sizes, their spines showing years of handling.
“You enjoy reading?” I ask, the first words I’ve spoken since entering the house.
“It passes the time,” he replies, and his tone makes me wonder exactly how much time he’s had to pass alone in this enormous place.
He shows me through a formal dining room next, with a table that could seat twenty people easily. Crystal chandeliers hang overhead, and they look expensive enough to feed my entire village for a year. I think of the meager meals I’ve survived on while running from place to place, always looking over my shoulder.
“Do you entertain often?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer.
“No,” Riven says simply.
We move on through corridors lined with paintings and sculptures that must be worth fortunes. I try to focus on the artwork rather than the monstrous figure leading me through his domain. This is my choice, I remind myself. This is safety and survival, nothing more.
“And through here…” Riven pushes open a swinging door, “is the kitchen, though you needn’t concern yourself with it. Nell handles all the cooking.”
I step past him into the most magnificent kitchen I’ve ever seen, and my breath catches in my throat. Compared to the cramped, smoke-filled cooking spaces I’m used to, this place is beyond anything I could have imagined. A massive stone hearth dominates one wall, with cooking surfaces at various heights built into the stonework. Copper pots and pans hang from hooks overhead, gleaming in the light from the windows. There are counters of smooth stone that stretch for what seems like miles, shelves holding spices in glass jars that catch the light, and an actual ice box for storing perishables.
“This is incredible,” I breathe, moving toward the center of the room, running my fingers along the smooth counter surface.
“You like it?”
“I love cooking,” I admit, turning to face him. I notice he’s hovering by the doorway and giving me space to explore withouthis intimidating presence too close. “I never had anything like this before. The things I could make here...”
“You want to cook?” The confusion in his voice is evident. “You needn’t work, Amity. That’s why we have servants.”
“It’s not work when you love it,” I say, opening cupboards to peek inside at the neatly organized dishes and cooking tools. “Would it be possible... I mean, would it be all right if I cooked dinner sometimes? I have recipes I’ve always wanted to try but never had the means.”
Riven stays quiet for so long that I turn to see if I’ve offended him somehow. He’s watching me with those glowing white eyes, his head tilted slightly to one side in a way that makes him look almost curious.
“The entire house is yours,” he finally says. “You may do as you please. Normally, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger, but if cooking gives you pleasure, then your happiness would give me joy as well.”
The tightness in my chest loosens at his words, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. He’s offering me a small kindness, but one that makes this strange new life seem more bearable.
“Thank you,” I say.
As I turn back to examine a set of knives, a flash of green catches my eye through the window. I move closer and gasp at what I see beyond the glass – a garden, large and somewhat wild, but unmistakably abundant with vegetables and herbs. Without thinking, I push open the back door and hurry outside, drawn by the sight of plants I’ve used countless times in my midwifery practice. The garden is overgrown, as if whoever tended it lost interest or time, but that only makes it more appealing. Wild growth means strong plants.
Rosemary bushes have grown beyond their beds, spilling over stone borders. Sage plants compete with mint for space, their leaves brushing together in the breeze. Tomato vines climb upwooden stakes and bend under the weight of ripening fruit. I spot chamomile, lavender, and thyme, all herbs I’ve used to ease childbirth pains or help new mothers recover.
I hear the door open behind me and know Riven has followed me outside, but I’m too entranced by this treasure trove to feel the usual unease at his presence.
“No one has properly tended it in some time,” he says, his voice closer than I expected.
“It’s perfect,” I say, kneeling to rub a leaf of lemon balm between my fingers and inhaling its bright, citrus scent. “So many medicinal herbs, and vegetables too.”
“The garden is yours as well,” he says. “To use or change as you see fit.” He hesitates and looks around at the overgrown beds and tangled vines. “I should apologize for the state of the house and grounds. I have only three servants, and they do what they can, but it’s too much for them to maintain properly.” Before I can respond to his apology, he continues with his voice dropping lower. “It’s difficult for me to hire more help. People don’t... They aren’t eager to work for someone who looks like me.”
“I could help,” I offer, surprising myself with how quickly the words come out of my mouth. “I can’t just sit around all day doing nothing. I’m used to working.”
“No,” Riven says firmly. “You don’t have to work. It’s my failure that I haven’t maintained the estate better.” He turns to face me fully, and I force myself not to flinch at his glowing eyes and stitched face. “Everything that is mine is yours, Amity. I ask only that you promise not to work too hard. Do only what gives you pleasure.”
“I promise,” I say, oddly touched by his concern for my well-being when no one has cared in so long.
The full weight of his generosity finally sinks in, and as I stand back up, I feel my knees go weak. A safe home where no onefrom Witherglen can reach me, a magnificent kitchen where I can create instead of just survive, and a garden full of herbs I can use for my work if I ever dare practice midwifery again. All of this, freely given by someone who asks nothing in return but my presence in his home.
Joy bubbles up inside me from a place I thought had dried up during my weeks of running and hiding. For the first time since I fled my hometown, I feel hope. Not just the determination to survive another day, but the possibility of truly living again. Without thinking about what I’m doing or what it might mean, I rush toward Riven and throw my arms around him in a spontaneous hug born of pure gratitude.
