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I blink in shock and try to look over my own shoulder at my back, a hopeless endeavor that just sends me spinning in circles. I start for the bathroom, again, halfway there before remembering there are no mirrors anywhere in the castle.
Son of a—
I thought Abaddon said he wouldn’t heal me any further. Has he changed his mind? As some sort of peace offering?
I unbar the door hastily and head for the stairs, all but flying down them toward the kitchen, driven both by my hunger and my need to know if Abaddon is the reason for these new changes in my body. But I don’t make it all the way there. As I’m passing the ground floor, I see the brothers all seated around the large dining room table. I pause and slowing, head into the room.
“You’re late,” Abaddon growls from where he sits at the head of the table. Remus and Thing sit on a long, heavy wooden bench to one side. That’s new. I guess they unearthed the bench from some room I haven’t seen yet.
Abaddon’s eyes are dark as he glances my way. “I was about to send Thing to fetch you.”
Then he snaps his fingers and points to a plate of food at his hooved feet.
Right. I laugh to myself at the naiveté of thinking he would have given me any more healing without demanding something in return.
“Yeah,” I say, “We’re through with that.” I swoop down in a graceful motion like a dancer, snatch the plate off the ground, and bound away with it before he can grab for me, still seated like he is. I’m shocked and delighted at how easy the movements are after a lifetime of stumbling and feeling dizzy on my feet.
Breakfast is fried eggs, a slab of meat, and a big, uncut tree of broccoli. It all looks absolutely delicious, and I’m even more ravenous now that I see and smell the food.
I plop myself down between Remus and Thing because I think it will keep Abaddon at bay.
Naturally, it instead only seems to set him off, but I’m too busy digging into my eggs and tearing at the meat with my teeth to care. Forks and knives have been neglected from the table settings, but human utensils are still a concept I'm working on getting Abaddon used to. I’m too hungry now to bother with decorum, so I don’t go get them. My teeth might not be as sharp as theirs, but they get the job done.
I can’t help but moan in delight as I chew. “Oh my God, this is so good. What is this?” I shove another bite of meat in my mouth. Then I hold up a hand as Abaddon starts to answer. “No, don’t tell me,” I say, a little garbled with my mouth half-full. “Don’t ruin it. It’s too delicious for you to tell me I’m eating horse or something awful.” I moan again as I chomp on an especially succulent piece.
“Does she make noises like this all the time?” Remus asks from beside me, food abandoned on his plate as he watches me in fascination.
I wave grease-covered fingers at him for him to stop, but it’s too late. Abaddon’s truly pissed now.
“Don’t speak to my Hannah-consort.”
So I turn to Thing. “Will you please tell your brother that he doesn’t get to tell me who I can talk to?”
Thing looks to Abaddon. “Hannah-consort says that—”
Abaddon roars in fury, sweeping his plate to the floor. I can’t help but gasp as I shove the last of my eggs in my mouth. The waste! All that delicious food, on the ground!
“You will speak to me!” Abaddon demands.
I turn to Thing again. “Thing, will you politely remind your brother of what I told him yesterday? He does not own me. I am not a dog to bark when he commands it.”
Remus chuckles from my other side. “Told you, brother. Just think. Father would be so proud. You’re a chip off the old block after all, treating us like dogs.”
Abaddon leaps to his feet, a growl emanating from his throat. At least he’s taken to wearing pants now that his brothers have joined us. His chest is still huge and bare but I don’t find him as intimidating as I once did. Or at least, I’ve decided not to.
I continue to eat my food calmly. Well, rather, I continue to scarf down my food. Dear God, food has never tasted so good. And I’ve never been able to shove it in my face fast enough. Is this a pregnancy side-effect? I’m munching on the broccoli as I turn to Remus curiously.
“So how do you two decide which of you gets to eat?” I nod toward Romulus’s sleeping face on the other side of his head. “Do you share a stomach or have two of those, too? Do you just take turns, or what?”
