"No. Your wedding present is better than this." I say, leaning out the window to watch her wander to the stream in the trees. She runs around for a while, exploring every inch of the house and garden, before slamming into me with scary force.
"It's perfect! Can we come here often?"
"As often as our schedules allow." It's not great, but it's all I can offer.
That's good enough for her, because she rewards me with a beguiling smile, and the best blowjob I think I have ever received.
* * *
"So we're getting married tomorrow!"She says, perching on a wooden stool at the edge of the kitchen worktop.
I wrinkle my nose. "Maybe, yes. Depends how I feel on the day."
She launches a tomato at my head and I catch it, putting the whole thing into my mouth. She looks deep in thought. "So… you and Siddie came here?"
I take a knife out of a block and sigh. "When he was a little older than Poppy is now, we were on our way back from his nursery when we got overrun by the public wanting to meet us. The guards couldn't hold them back, and though they meant well, they completely surrounded us. It was a lot for him, and it turned into a crush. His hand was hurt.
“Then, when we got back, he told me he sometimes wished his father could be exactly like me, but someone else. When he saw the look on my face he took it right back, but he meant it. So I vowed to give him a piece of normal, quiet life every now and then. Away from the speeches, the dinners, the interviews, the war planning, the trade agreements, and the long night shifts. We came here often to build a little bit more of this place. Then when we finished, we'd spend most of our weekends in summer here."
She nods, fiddling with her fingernails. "You're a good father, Rexxan."
"I've done my best, with the cards I was dealt." I grin, tossing a tomato up and catching it on the blade of the knife. "I learned to cook for him since he didn't want any staff here, just us."
"You're cooking for me?!" She squeaks, and I nod, dicing tomatoes.
"Tomato soup."
"You're cooking tomato soup for me?!" She says, even more high-pitched.
"Are you fucking malfunctioning?"
"Areyoufucking malfunctioning?"
"Watch it," I growl, pointing the knife at her. She just laughs, shaking her head in disbelief.
We eat on the rocks outside, our feet in the stream, and if I say so myself, it's fucking good. I don’t really know how to cook, just a few of Siddie’s favourites. I know Renna thinks that it’s good too, because she's successfully gone sixty seconds without talking. She's a mass of contradictions as she sits opposite me, humming softly as she dips bread into soup.
She's fascinating. She's holding her tomato soup as if it's the love of her life, as if she's the gentlest of souls, but she's killed so, so many people. And here's the weirdest thing; it doesn't keep her up at night. She'll squash a bee in the garden, and it'll ruin her day. She'll torture someone to death, and she doesn't blink an eye.
"Would you consider seeing a counsellor?” The words are out before I can stop them, and I hope she takes it well.
She raises a sharp eyebrow, amusement in her eyes. "Right. Because I'm crazy enough to agree to marry you, I suddenly need therapy?"
"Because you've killed and been on the run for so long now, that I am worried you will be lost without it."
Her face drops as she realises I'm serious. I'm grateful for what the Shadow Hunters did for her. They saved her life. But they also turned her into something ruthless. Someone who kills without blinking an eye. She messes with her hair. "I wouldliketo see one, I'm worried what they'll think of me, though."
"Why?"
"You know that serene feeling you get after something good? After a good meal, or finishing a long hike, or after good sex? I get that after killing people, sometimes. And if I tell a healer that... they'll think I'm a psychopath."
"They won't. They're paid to help people like you."
"There are no others like me."
"I thought you might like to start seeing Hettanya."
"Hettanya? The prison counsellor?!”
