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Mere moments passed before his oldest and most trusted companion stepped into the room. Tinsley inclined his head in greeting. “Welcome home, Master Aric. What can I do for you?”
“Prepare the house for hibernation,” Aric said. “I’ll be leaving at sunrise and may be gone for the rest of the month.”
Tinsley was silent a second. “Of course, sir.” But he didn’t budge. “Will you be returning with Miss Rochelle?”
The name sliced through him and Aric lifted a hand to his chest. That was all he wanted. Well, that and to put his fist in Denham’s face, but his urge to do even that lessened with every passing day. He’d never missed someone as powerfully as he missed Rochelle. “No.” He couldn’t. He had no solution to offer her until this was dealt with.
“If I may, sir—”
“I don’t have the time, Tinsley.”
Tinsley’s voice carried after him. “I wish you would reconsider, sir. Miss Rochelle is good for you.”
Aric clenched his hands at his sides and bit back his first response. It was unlike Tinsley to be so assertive. “You know why she left.”
Tinsley stepped into his peripheral vision. “Yes,” he said, “but I care more about what she brought out in you when you were with her.”
A small flicker of curiosity lit inside him, and Aric glanced in Tinsley’s direction. “And what was that?”
Tinsley held his gaze. “Your humanity, sir.”
The breath rushed from his lungs and Aric looked away, feeling something almost like shame. “I can’t afford to be human right now.” For that, maybe it was best Rochelle had run. “Lock the house down until my return.” He teleported the rest of the way to his office, not wanting to hear anything else on the subject.
Aric moved quickly to pull a magically sealed box from a hidden compartment in the wall. Just in case his final push to find and incriminate Denham, and to figure out Cecilia’s connection to everything, ended in failure. It was one thing if he had to suffer the consequences of loss, no matter how unfamiliar they were. The consequences of failing this task, however, would be greater than simply not bringing in the enemy. If he didn’t fully convince King Jensen of Prince Denham’s disloyalty, then what remained of the Vardanyan legacy would fall as well. And Tinsley would fall with it.
Tinsley was the only one who’d been with Aric from the moment Aric had opened his eyes in this world. Tinsley was the only one he’d ever told his secret to, albeit only after being confronted. Tinsley’s loyalty had never wavered. So Aric made sure to leave what he could inside the box for Tinsley to be able to survive, reputation aside, in the event of failure. He adjusted the spell around the box and set it in the top drawer—the place he’d always told Tinsley to look if disaster struck.
Then he gathered the items he might need for himself, compressed them to fit into his pocket, and closed up. Whether he would ever return to this room, or this house he’d built for himself, he didn’t yet know.
Tinsley stood halfway down the hall, waiting patiently. Their gazes met and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I hope you’ll be careful, Master Aric. I hope to see you again.”
It had been a while since Tinsley had sent him off with that sort of statement. Aric inclined his head. “If I don’t return,” he said, “thank you.” The words seemed insufficient, but he couldn’t afford to lose himself in sentiments and fears of what-if. Instead, he continued forward and made his way to the foyer. The season had warmed up, but since he was going to be gone for a while, he pulled his pre-prepared bag from the closet. A couple changes of clothes was all he needed.
He teleported from the foyer, single case in hand, to Darnel and Mitzi’s doorstep.
In the aftermath of the fallout with Cecilia, the balance between the women had seemed to fracture. Mitzi declared she couldn’t stand looking at the spaces where her best friend had lost her mind while her other roommate was at work, and Viveca admitted she felt a twinge of apprehension every time she came home. So the women had sold the cottage. Mitzi moved in with her fiancé ahead of schedule, and Viveca took an apartment closer to the barracks.
It had been two months since Cecilia attacked Rochelle. Two months since Cecilia had been arrested, and subsequently released into obscurity. Two months hardly seemed like enough time for something so dependable to change, and yet everything was different.
Aric held tighter to the handle of the case. Tinsley was right, he realized. Despite everything that had changed, he only cared that he now had to go to two locations and essentially repeat a conversation. It was an irritation. These were his closest friends, his chosen family. When had he closed his heart to their pain?
Mitzi opened the door almost as soon as he rapped his knuckles against it and despite that he hadn’t called first, her blue eyes gave no indication of surprise. If anything, after a moment, they drooped with resignation. “Is it time?”
Chapter Eighteen
Awareness slowly seeped into her, temporarily clearing portions of her brain with each jolt of energy. Like sparks that never quite caught to bloom into flame.
Flame … fire…
“Daddy, Daddy!”
She wanted to drag her eyes open, to part her lips and suck in a deep breath, but instead she slipped under again. Everything was so heavy. Her body ached. Her bones ached. Maybe it would be okay to just let herself sleep?
“—this one?” The words came from a different voice, less familiar voice than the young one that had cried moments before.
She couldn’t work herself up to curiosity. Sleep beckoned. Sweet, all-encompassing sleep, where she could forget about the things that hurt so badly.
“Leave her—” The response faded as a pressure, a few seconds’ weight, brushed over Rochelle’s forehead. In the back of her mind, it reminded her of having her temperature checked as a child. It was soothing and she missed any words that followed.
