Page 31 of Juniper Unraveling

At that, the blond lifts his gaze up, toward me, and I duck down, out of his view.

“Who’s Wren?” This deeper voice reaches my ears, and I concentrate on it.

I know I’ve heard it before. Oddly though, it skates down my spine like a bad kind of déjà vu. Something I might’ve heard in a dream.

“She’s his daughter,” Arty answers.

“Oh?” The pitch of intrigue in the stranger’s voice tingles my spine, and I glance back toward Six, whose feet poke out from end of the bed. “I’d no idea you had a daughter. I’d like to ask her some questions, as well.”

“I’ve never offered the information. And she’s asleep.” Papa’s stern voice tells me he’s irritated for being held up so long, and when he clears his throat, I’m certain of it. That’s the same sound he makes when I ask too many questions. “I’ll let you know if I see anything. Thank you, gentlemen.”

I peek over the balcony, keeping low so the stranger doesn’t change his mind and decide to interrogate me.

The Legion soldiers stiffen, offering a salute that Papa half-heartedly mimics, before the three men turn for the exit. The blond gives one more glance back toward the bannister, and I just catch his eyes as he leaves.

Once they’re gone, I slide across the floor to the side of the bed and lift the skirt, beneath which Six has peeled away the gauze at his palm, examining the gash.

The gash that’s healed.

Entirely way too fast.

I pull at his fingers, tugging his hand for a closer look. Only the puffy red line of a scar remains where the cut had been wide open the night before.

Setting my thumbs at either side of it, I gently push at the edges, creating a thin sliver of a channel, but it seals together again.

Odd.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, releasing his hand.

He nods emphatically and pushes forward as if he might slither out from under my bed.

I grip his shoulder, taking in the solid ball of muscle beneath my palm. “Stay in my room, okay? I’m going to bring you some breakfast, but stay here. Don’t let Papa see you yet.”

Another nod signals his understanding, so I crawl out of the hiding place and make my way toward the door. The moment my hand touches the knob, the door glides open, and Papa falls back a step.

“I’m sorry.” He drops his gaze from mine and clasps his hands in front of him. “I thought you were asleep.”

I snap my head back toward the bed, where Six has tucked his feet beneath, thank goodness, and back to Papa. “The men at the door. I heard you talking.”

“A, um … a young man has gone AWOL. One of their … someone they’ve taken into custody.”

“A prisoner?” I tip my head in an effort to guide his eyes toward mine, and when he takes another step back, I take one forward, shutting the door behind me. “Is that who they’re looking for?”

“Not a prisoner, per se.” He still keeps his gaze from mine, and I’ve come to learn this as his behavior for when he feels bad for keeping a secret from me.

So I probe harder as usual. If nothing else, it’ll prompt him to leave, so I can get Six cleaned up and fed.

“They think he breached the wall?”

He shakes his head as if it’s a ridiculous thought. “Of course not. The warning is just a precaution. In the event he had, somehow, managed to get inside.”

“He’s from that building, isn’t he? The one I asked you about with the smoke stacks?”

“Wren,” he warns, lifting his chin just enough to look at me from beneath his pinched brows. “You’re to stay here today. Do not leave this house for anything, do you understand?”

“Why?”

“This young man is quite dangerous.”