Page 26 of Drawn in Blood
“Ugh.” Ember rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Anything other than that too.”
“Scared, Lothbrok?” Killian smirked. Ember cut her eyes at him before letting out a long sigh.
“Scared or not,” Fen said loudly, as he pulled an apple off one of the low hanging branches, prompting Maize to give him a stare that forced him to back away slowly, “they’re coming up quickly. We should probably practice this weekend. Maybe at the orchards?”
Ember chewed her lip as she shook her head. “I have plans with my mum actually.” She tried not to smile too widely at the thought of shopping with her mum, something she never dreamed she would get to do. “I should probably stay close to home for now, until I’m settled anyway. I wouldn’t want her to think I’m not happy.”
Fen’s face fell, and Ember felt her chest tighten. She didn’t want to lose Fen, but she had to focus on rebuilding her relationship with her mother. That was what was important right now. She shook the thought away—she would find hernew normal with Fen eventually, but right now, this is what mattered.
Fen nodded with a shrug, forcing a smile. “Maybe some other time.”
Ember nodded in reply. “Yeah, maybe. I should head back inside, but see you at school?”
“See you then, Starshine.” Killian winked and quickly pulled Fen down the long drive toward the Echopoint.
Ember wandered back in the house, slowly making her way up the steps to her room. She winced as she stood in front of the oak door. It didn’t feel like her room, not the way she thought it would, not the way her room at the Kitts’ had felt. She shook her head and turned the knob, insistent that the feeling of all the newness would pass and she would feel just as comfortable in this manor as she had at the farm. It would just take time.
Her room was filled with deep greens, her favorite color for as long as she could remember. Her four-poster bed was pushed up against the center of the wall, and large picture windows were scattered throughout. All of her favorite books from her childhood filled the small bookshelf on the far wall, some even still had the bookmarks in them where her father had stopped reading for the night. Her chest clenched as she climbed onto bed and hugged the stuffed dragon her mother had given her for her second birthday, something she always imagined had been lost forever.
The entire room was curated just for her, to make her feel as at home as possible after ten years of longing for this feeling. It was filled with love and comfort and nostalgia for a home that she never imagined she would even glimpse again. Her breathing eased as she looked out the window to the gardens beyond. Yes, it would just take time.
Time was something she was very good at.
Chapter 8
Noble Blood and Bruises
Killian’s shoes echoed off the tile as he walked through the foyer and toward the kitchen. Isra, their new Merrow, was preparing food at the stove when he walked in and slid himself into a seat at the bar. Isra had been brought to the house almost immediately after Maren had gone “missing,” much to the trio’s dismay. She looked to be no older than eighteen or nineteen, and for her first month in the manor, she could barely hold a spoon with how bad her hands shook. Killian, Ember, and Fen searched the cold house up and down, looking for her cape to send her back home, but they never found it. Apparently, his father had found amuchbetter hiding place this time.
So much for freeing an enslaved race.
Leif was already at the bar, jabbering away about nothing and everything, snacking on a plate of apples and cheese. Killian snatched a slice, quickly popping it in his mouth. Leif narrowed his eyes at his older brother, grabbing the plate and wrapping his arms around it, acting like a human shield.
“Get your own food,” he mumbled through bites of cheddar and swiss.
Killian laughed as he drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter. “Isra,” he said, as he turned to the Merrow, “do we have any books on sign language?” He felt bad for Ember, that she couldn’t talk to her little brother, but he felt even worse for Theo. He knew all too well how it felt to live with a parent who didn’t take the time to see to even their most basic needs.
Isra smiled as she nodded. “I believe your mother has a few in her study,” she said, as she stirred the stew on the stove, “so you might ask her if you can borrow them.”
Killian groaned as he laid his head on his arms—that was quite literally the last thing he wanted to do. Their education on any subject had never been their mother’s responsibility. Their father saw to it that they knew what they needed to be upstanding members of society, hiring tutors and teachers until they were of age to go to Heksheim. Killian could see the way it hurt his mother not to be a bigger part of their life, but that wasn’t the way for Vala like them, and no number of tears from a broken little boy would change that—would changeher.
“Go talk to her,” Isra whispered and then turned away, ignoring him completely.
Killian walked slowly down the hall, knocking quietly when he got to the study door. It opened gently, and his mother sat on the other side, reading a book in her chair, polite and poised in front of the fire. Righteous anger bubbled in his chest—his father was on the other side of the manor in his own study. Why couldn’t he spend time with her? He thought about the Kitts and how Eira and Otto never seemed to leave each other’s sides, and he couldn’t help but feel pity for his parents, for the love they would never truly feel.
“Mother,” he said, as he walked into the room and cleared his throat, “I was wondering if I could borrow a book.”
Asena tilted her head as she narrowed her eyes. “A book?” she asked. “What kind of book?”
Killian walked into the room, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “A book of sign language,” he said, as he looked toward the shelves, scanning the spines, “to help a friend.” She didn’t need all the details, and he wasn’t about to offer any.
”Ember Lothbrok?” Asena asked quietly, eyes twinkling as she closed the book in her hands.
Killian’s chest tightened as he gave a quick nod.
“I see,” Asena replied. “Want to brush up on everything your tutors taught you?”
Killian nodded as he walked toward the shelves. His tutors had tried to teach him sign language when he was Leif’s age, but the truth was, he didn’t remember much. He spent most of his time doodling or staring out the window, failing almost every single test they gave him. The only reason they gave him a passing grade, his brother said, is because their father had made some very pointed threats toward their families.
