Page 140

Emerie took the clothing and shut the door.

The towel she used was more like a sheet.I guess it would be hard to get an actual towel in the Veil.Regardless, she used it, thankful she had something to wipe herself down with.

As she did, she looked around the dimly lit, narrow room that held little in it. There was a single potted plant in the corner, and a window above the far end of the oval bath that allowed a small view outside.

Once she was dry, she slipped the gown over her head and threaded her arms through the sleeves, relieved to find that they came to her elbows. The rest of it swayed just below her knees.

The quality wasn’t amazing, as the material itself was poor, but it was well sewn, thick, and prettier than anything she’d worn since the night of her accident.

All I’ve worn for the past eight years is hunting gear or my Demonslayer uniforms. I guess I miss dressing more... feminine.It was a sad thought, but one that didn’t particularly bother her enough to dwell on.

She opened the door to Reia still standing there. With a bored hint to her eyes, she held a pair of brown slippers in her left hand. Emerie’s cheeks heated in embarrassment and then grew hotter when a brush was pushed at her.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude earlier,” Emerie grumbled, taking everything from her. She was quick to put the shoes on.

“Huh?” Reia let out a small laugh. “No, you’re fine. I wouldn’t want a stranger waltzing in on me while I was bathing either. Just heard you scream, so I got worried. I did have to stop this one from running in.”

She hiked her thumb behind her, and Ingram’s raven skull appeared off to the side of her. His orbs were their usual orchid purple.

Has he been there the whole time?

“He was sitting outside the door and wouldn’t let me through at first,” Reia continued, then sighed and shook her head. She threw her hands up as she turned to walk down the hallway. “Duskwalkers, so protective for no damn reason!”

She imagined Ingram sitting with his back against the door, barring anyone entry. As much as it would have been unneeded, it still made her feel like fluffy dandelions were sprouting in her chest.

Not long after they’d been alone, Delora had offered for Emerie and Ingram to come inside.

After they made their way in and were standing in the spacious living area, Magnar had explained to both of them how he would need to fill the tub.

When he said he would need to cut his wrist open and place a few drops of his own blood in the tub to form a warm water spell, Ingram had grown... distressed. He’d offered to do it, despite never having done so before.

Having to watch him use his own claw to hurt himself, then grow frustrated when it didn’t immediately work, made Emerie feel terrible. Magnar had been telling him not to worry about it just as the spell finally glowed to life.

Purple glittering magic filled the drops of purple blood to turn them clear and then they increased in volume.

Her relief at finally being able to have a proper, private bath overshadowed how disturbing she found the process.

Ingram had come across as uncomfortable and nervous inside their home. He adopted a crouching position, balancing himself on one hand, as though he wanted to appear smaller. He also rarely allowed more than an inch of room between him and Emerie, and often made sure she was between him and Delora.

Honestly, she’d expected Ingram to be his big, imposing self. So, to experience him be so unsure only made her understand that he was not used to any of this.

She doubted he’d ever been inside a home that was furnished, let alone one that not only belonged to a living human, but another of his kind. It seemed like he was worried about breaking things, and his skull was always set on facing either Magnar or Emerie.

His spikes and scales had been raised in alertness; whether that was in fear for Emerie or just uncertainty in general, she wasn’t sure. The fact he’d sat outside the bathroom door still didn’t answer that question.

Ingram approached her now that Reia was out of the way, just as she pulled the brush through the tangled strands of her hair. Still low, keeping at her eye level, he sniffed at her.

He let out a sneezing huff. “You smell different.”

“It’s called soap,” she happily hummed, feeling clean and fresh for the first time in two weeks.

“I do not like it,” he said, causing her to smile.

How did she know he was going to say that?

“You should try it sometime,” she teased, not that she thought he smelled bad or anything – quite the opposite in fact. Although, she currently wasn’t a big fan of the coppery, odd scent of his blood, like it was stronger than a human’s.

The bathroom was on the right of the hallway, so it didn’t take her long to lead them to the open living area. She asked if she could take one of the ribbons currently tied to the hairbrush, and when given permission, removed it.