Page 14

Eleven

S late looked different when he was asleep.

Soft. Oddly tender. Also, he curled up like a cat, which made Ruby think of the word adorable —as if it could ever be applied to a Skullstalker.

He would be decidedly less adorable once he woke up.

Ruby was deciding whether a trek back through the forest was worth it after spending all this time finding her way here from the castle.

But if she got attacked by demons, she’d never hear the end of it.

If she even survived long enough for him to berate her.

She sighed. Then she reached out and touched him cautiously on the shoulder.

“Slate?”

Nothing. Slate didn’t even flinch.

She pushed harder on his shoulder. Slate’s tail flicked out and swatted her arm away with such force that she stumbled back.

“Ow,” she muttered. She raised her voice reluctantly. “Slate!”

Slate rumbled low in his chest. One eyelid pried open, his black eye fixing on her.

For a moment he said nothing. He just lay there and stared, his curled body cushioned by feathers and furs, which she could have sworn had gotten thicker since she was here last.

Then he growled, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I told you not to come into the forest unless I was present.”

“Or unless I needed you,” she corrected.

Slate’s growl turned into an annoyed grumble. “I barely had time to nap.”

“It’s been two days,” Ruby replied awkwardly.

Slate frowned sleepily. “Do you need food?”

“No,” Ruby replied, thinking of the dried meat, fruit, and oats she had piled up in the drawers beside her bed. “The last batch could last me weeks if I needed.”

“Then what?”

Ruby paused. She had said it several times now. But it was still hard to say, especially when he said it so much better.

She waited until his eyes went half-lidded, his swishing tail stilling against the nest.

“You’re ready again?” he asked, his voice low and silky.

Ruby shifted on the spot, feeling the flat of the shadow dagger press against her thigh. She was still tender inside from last time. But she could take it.

She nodded.

Slate surged up and grabbed her waist.

Ruby’s breath thudded out of her as he threw her into his nest. Sometimes they did this in her bed, but more often nowadays they did it in his nest. She was starting to prefer it, and she suspected he did too.

He was always rubbing her fluids into the furs like he wanted evidence of her there later.

Or maybe that was pure instinct and didn’t mean anything at all.

Slate leaned over her, his loincloth already thrown to the forest floor.

“Open your legs,” he purred.

Ruby shivered and did.

The next day, Ruby explored the kitchen.

She walked carefully. The day after taking his cock was always when she was the most sensitive. Even her thighs ached from her brief attempt at riding him.

Ruby stared up at the towering stone counter. It was almost up to her neck; she could hardly cut up her skinned rabbit on it.

She sighed and turned toward the oven. Through several mistakes that led to her smoking out the room, she finally discovered that it did not work like the clay oven in her cottage.

Instead, there were tiny dials on top that, when pressed, made an enchantment on the side of the oven glow blue.

Then the oven would warm up, getting hotter the more she turned the dial.

No wood needed. No coal, not even oil. Just a dial and a glowing enchantment that Slate didn’t seem to know anything about.

“I never come in here,” Slate explained when she asked about it. “I have no use for cooked meat.”

Ruby slung the rabbit over her shoulder and dragged over a chair that she had found in a nearby room. It was metal, which had to be why it hadn’t rotted yet. But it was covered in rust, and she grimaced as she climbed onto it. It felt like it would cave at any second.

Slate’s rough voice spoke up from the door. “A fire seems easier.”

Ruby looked over from her precarious position in front of the oven. She could reach the dials from here—barely. The chair only pushed her up so far.

“A fire would be easier,” she replied. “But I’m not in the mood to twirl a spit. If I can make this oven work, I can walk away until it’s done.”

She strained to reach the main dial.

Slate stepped forward. “I can do it.”

“I got it,” she said, winded. Her stomach pressed into the oven.

She flicked the dial on with a triumphant noise. The enchantment on the side flickered to life, blaring blue light.

Ruby jumped back to the floor and rearranged the skinned rabbit hanging over her shoulder. “There! Now all I need to do is cut this up, and I have a few days of meals.”

Slate eyed the tall countertops that Ruby would strain to reach even with the chair. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“Well,” Ruby said, trying to keep her smile. “I was just going to use the knife you made me and…”

Slate took the rabbit from her shoulder and dumped it onto the counter. Then he started dragging his claw over it.

Ruby watched him, surprised. He was cutting it into sections, the way she would do it. Had he been watching mortals again, figuring out how to cook?

She leaned her chin on the countertop, straining to even do that.

“What lived here?” she asked in a rush. “Before you.”

Slate grunted, pushing his claw between the rabbit’s shoulders. “Nothing that exists today.”

Ruby paused. He said it in the same tone that he had answered her questions about the enchantment that powered the oven: like he didn’t know the full story and didn’t want her to guess.

Ruby looked around the giant kitchen at the rusted implements she didn’t recognize and the strange contraptions among the counters.

Whatever society had built this, Ruby had heard nothing about it.

She had been taught that Skullstalkers came to life along with every other spirit, and mortals came not long after.

There was nothing before Skullstalkers—or at least, that was what Ruby had been told.

“Why do I know nothing of them?” Ruby asked.

“Mortals know little of the voids.”

“Yes, but…” Ruby bit her lip. “There would be evidence of them in the mortal realm, wouldn’t there?”

“There is. You simply don’t recognize it.” Slate gathered the rabbit chunks in his claws and held them out. “Here you go.”

“Oh! Thank… you.” Not knowing what else to do, Ruby let him pile them in her arms.

Slate turned to leave.

“Thank you,” Ruby repeated as he exited.

Then she sighed, nose wrinkling in disgust at the rabbit meat dampening her dress.

She would have to get him to re-materialize it after she was finished in here.

She wished she knew how to do it herself—as long as he still had control over it, too.

A big draw of this dress was how he could wave it away with a flick of his wrist.

She dragged out a tray and set it on the floor, ignoring the rust but also the disappointment in her stomach.

Just because you’re staying in his void doesn’t mean he wants to stay and chat, she reminded herself. He said it himself: he values his solitude.

But she couldn’t help the sadness as she leaped to drag the oven door open again, holding up a hand to shield herself from the burst of hot air that clouded out.

She had been hoping that he would ask if she was ready for another training session, as he often did when he came into the castle.

The answer would have been no, but she liked to be asked.

It made her stomach swoop in excitement every time, thinking of when she could finally say yes again.

If only he would stay after , Ruby thought as she heaved the oven door shut on the tray of rabbit meat. She was growing tired of waking up alone in her castle bed every time she fell asleep in his arms.

Two days and a prolonged practice session later, Ruby limped back into the kitchen and gasped.

Stairs . Metal stairs welded onto every counter and even the oven door, climbing so high Ruby could reach them without strain.

There was something piled on top of the nearest counter. Ruby bounded up the new stairs and shrieked in delight.

Knives. Dishtowels. Pots that weren’t made for giants and covered in rust. Bowls.

Salt! And not just any salt, her salt, with the familiar containers that rested on her windowsill.

It looked like Slate had emptied out her entire kitchen back home, plus a few miscellaneous items from nearby, like a stray peg.

He didn’t know what belonged in a kitchen, after all.

She turned to find him looming in the kitchen doorway, shadows flickering strangely around his skull.

Ruby gestured at the pile on the counter. “What are these ?”

“I assumed you would recognize them.”

Ruby giggled. “That’s not what I meant! You really did this for me?”

Slate’s tail swished. He took a breath, and it was several seconds before he spoke.

“I was bored,” he replied.

Ruby’s words stuck in her throat. She wanted to tell him how grateful she was that he would do this for her when she was with him for such a short time.

She wanted to tell him how much she missed her little cottage, how happy it made her to feel all her chipped knives with warped handles she’d used every day of her adult life.

To tell him that no one had done anything so kind for her since the last witch of Sweetsguard died.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “It means… thank you.”

Slate nodded. He wasn’t looking at her, and his tail was swishing even faster now.

“Do not mention it,” he said gruffly. Then he coughed a sharp, guttural bark that used to make Ruby jump.

“How are you feeling?”

Ruby shifted against the stairs he’d built for her. She felt very tender. But she could take his tongue, at the very least. And she wanted to show him how truly grateful she was.

“Ready,” she said.

His eyes locked on hers. Ruby’s spine tingled, warmth pooling between her sore legs as he loomed closer.

“Good,” he rumbled. “As am I.”