AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When the topic of us being from Stonnebrin comes up, Sansha demands to know if I’m a werewolf. Apparently, she doesn’t believe the rumors and thinks they’re misunderstood and probably no different from enormous friendly dogs. This girl is totally the airhead in a horror movie who’d see a bear in the woods and run over trying to hug it because she thinks it’s cute and fluffy.
If this woman is not acting, she’s definitely got some damage.
Yanno, the more I listen to them, the more I am sure Nesanth can’t be either one of them. They’re so nauseatingly sweet, innocent, and ‘good,’ it’s close to impossible to fathom the notion of a dark master being able to maintain the façade with a straight face. Then I remember she’s basically got the powers of a goddess here, so anything is possible.
Despite Lindsey’s best attempts to get the siblings to slip up and say something that admits they have knowledge of the assassinations, they don’t. She makes an ‘I give up’ face at me. Not long after that, as our social call has been a politely proper duration, I do the ‘oh, it’s so late, we must be off’ thing. Apparently, I’m overdoing it a bit since Tammy clamps a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing.
“Leaving so soon?” asks Sansha. “Won’t you stay for dinner at least?”
“A lovely idea, though I am afraid I’ve committed myself elsewhere this evening.” I smile apologetically. “Another time, perhaps?”
“We are having a gala in a few days.” Elden smiles. “We would adore having you attend. Do let us know where you are staying so we may extend a formal invitation.”
I’m hoping we aren’t still here in a few days. Still, these two are so idealistic and earnest it feels cruel to say no for the same reason you never criticize a child’s artwork when they try to give it to you. “Lady Demetria is being kind enough to permit us to stay with her.”
“Excellent,” says Elden.
Sansha makes a face of contemplation, then seems sad. “Demetria… Oh, yes. I remember her now.”
“Do not fret, sister.” Elden takes her hand. “I am sure you simply misinterpreted the way she looked at you.”
Here I sit, looking at this grown woman starting to pout like a high school girl desperate to be liked by everyone only to run into the one person who hates her mysteriously. Yeah. Surreal.
“What happened?” asks Tammy.
Elden pats his sister’s hand while looking at us. “The woman frowned in Sansha’s direction. I’m sure it was not directed at her.”
Oof. I’m sure it was. Demetria, as helpful as she is trying to be to us, is still a dark master. It’s not a personal hate. This woman is simply too bright and shiny for her tastes. It’s a tale as old as time: the goth girl sneers at the perfect cheerleader.
“I wouldn’t take it personally.” I smile. “Lady Demetria was most likely thinking about the idea of those assassins hurting you and felt wretched that someone might want to harm someone so innocent.”
Yeah, my sarcasm was heavy. Pretty sure Demetria herself wouldn’t have any problem whatsoever hurting someone innocent if she needed to in order to advance some goal of hers. As in, she wouldn’t randomly be mean to the innocent, only if they got in her way. Then again, I could be wrong. Maybe Demetria was sizing her up for a future meal.
Following a few more minutes of pleasant—and painfully extended—farewells, the three of us take our leave. We’re silent the whole way down the mile-long walkway back to the street. I close the gate, then stare up at the sky, not knowing entirely what the hell I just experienced. Should I pity those two or distrust them? Are they unwilling to grow up or unable to? They are definitely eerie.
To be fair, they don’t carry on like literal children even if Sansha came close to tears at Demetria frowning in her direction. The woman can’t fathom how someone could dislike her after she’s tried so hard to do so much good for people.
“Ma… holy cow.” Tammy leans on me. “You’re killing me in there. Demetria feeling bad someone might hurt poor, innocent Sansha?”
“Right?” Lindsey snickers. “Do you think Demetria sensed something about her?”
“Nah. She frowned at Sansha for the same reason my daughter scowled at Hannah Montana when she was younger.”
“What’s wrong with Hannah Montana?” Lindsey blinks.
“My daughter used to be goth.”
“Oh. Okay. Now I get it.” Lindsey exhales. “Hey, stop being so bright and cheerful, I’m trying to be gloomy here.”
Tammy folds her arms. “I wasn’t that gloomy.”
“No comment,” I mutter.
“Hey!”
I put an arm around her. “You had good reasons for it. So, anyway… thoughts?”
“Don’t trust them much,” says Tammy.
