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Darien said, “Let’s see how you feel after your shower.”

She went with him as he checked the rest of the house. Thoroughly. No corner or closet was forgotten. She saw rooms she had never seen before. Hidden passageways that ran from one fireplace to another; from the laundry room cupboard to the storage room. There weren’t many of those, but she never would’ve guessed they were there.

The house was clear. The majority of the damage had been done to the ground floor, the rooms on the upper levels mostly untouched. A small blessing.

Now, Loren watched from the top of the stairs as Darien crossed the foyer down below, his pounding boots smashing glass into smaller slivers, and returned to the kitchen to help the others.

She made her way to her old room to shower, leaving Darien’s free for him if he came back up—and in case he really was serious about staying in separate rooms. Even if he wasn’t, he probably wanted to clean up, too. Traveling could make a person feel so dirty, and neither of them had showered since leaving Yveswich.

After unpacking her bag, she hopped in the walk-in shower she hadn’t used in months, meticulously scrubbed herself from head to toes, and removed the bandages on her back. Theointment Darien had used on her at the hospital must have been enhanced with venefican magic, most of the wounds already healed with minimal scarring.

It felt strange to be back in her old suite. Ever since her twentieth birthday, she had spent every night, apart from when she was at the academy, in Darien’s bed. The first time they’d made love was the last night she had slept inthisbed. The one with the cream and teal pillows.

She stared at it now, her body wrapped in a fluffy white towel, hair dripping water down her back—and shivered.

This was not where she wanted to be.

Boots pounded in the hall.

Darien appeared in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame, the other squeezing the handle.

He stared at her.

She stared at him.

His mouth opened. Shut. Opened again. “I…am at a complete loss for words right now.”

Okay, so she’d misunderstood him. That was her bad—she’d fix it. “I was just having a shower?—”

“Inhere?”He looked like she had kicked him in the nuts. “Does that mean you’re sleeping in here, too?” His hand—the broken one—gripped the handle tighter. She knew that simple action was causing him a great deal of pain, and yet he seemed to embrace it. Seek it.

His pupils flared. Even from this far away, she could see them swell.

She tightened the towel under her arms. “Darien, I just?—”

“Never mind.” He pushed off the doorframe and backed into the hall. “Whatever. It’s whatever you want, baby. You want to sleep in your old room, that’s fine. I’m here if you need me.” He stalked off before she could reply.

She stood there, stunned. A couple of minutes later, she heard the shower come on in his bathroom.

She drifted into the hall, debating what to do. Maybe it was psychological, but she was suddenly shivering, the house drafty compared to before.

Singer crept out of her shadow and came to stand at her side.

“He’s mad,” Loren whispered.

Singer let out a low whine, his ears flattening back.

A dark shape appeared in her periphery.

Bandit was poking his head out of Darien’s doorway.‘Of course he’s mad!’the dog whisper-shouted.‘You’ve kicked us out!’

She swallowed. Great, nowhewas mad at her, too. “I kickedmyselfout,” she corrected.

Bandit chuffed and disappeared into Darien’s room?—

BANG.

Loren blinked. Did…did Bandit justslam the door?