Page 88 of Caller of Crows

Sven took a sip of the beverage before answering. "I don't really know." It wasn't an adequate reply, but it was all Sven could find within himself to say.

Cale and Kieran exchanged a glance, then their eyes settled on Sven again, and Sven swallowed.

They clearly had 'well-meaning' questions. He appreciated it—he really did. The fact that his friends were so concerned about him was warming. But he also dreaded where those questions might lead…

Maybe it would be best to just get it over with and rip the bandaid off. "Go ahead, ask me," he said to them both.

"Are you okay?" Cale began.

"How did you get away?" Kieran continued.

And before Sven could utter a response, Cale added, "Is that vampire going to hunt you down? Do we need to call the guards? I've got garlic in the kitchen. Does garlic work? You kinda reek of it, so maybe not?"

Sven held his hand up to stop the barrage of words coming out of his friend's mouth. "One question at a time, please," he said and cleared his throat. "I'm… dealing. Someone helped me to get away from the coven for today so I can attend the funeral." A lump formed in Sven's throat as he spoke the words, reminding himself of the event that made all of this necessary in the first place.

"So your vampire didn't want to let you go," Cale said. His tone was disapproving, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Altair is complicated."

"He's controlling you," Kieran said softly, sitting down at the table with Sven like the diplomat he used to be. "That's not okay."

Sven shook his head, averting his gaze from Cale's glare because yeah, he knew that this situation was wrong, that it shouldn't have to be like this, and he couldn't deny it. But there were things the two of them didn't understand. Altair wasn'tallbad.

Sure, he was a pain in the ass sometimes, but… maybe that was part of what Svenlikedabout him, as stupid as that sounded.

He bit down hard on the inside of his lip. Fuck, he needed to focus. He couldn't go down that road now, couldn't let his thoughts drift back to last night and how he'd felt in Altair's arms, with Altair's voice in his ears, telling him that he washis.That Sven belonged to him.

It was a truth that Sven felt in his bones, in spite of every instinct telling him that he should stay away.

"He is who he is," Sven said, suppressing the thought. "It doesn't matter. We can discuss him later. After."

"After the funeral?" Cale asked. He gave Sven a worried look, his eyes tracing Sven's features intently.

Sven nodded tightly. "Yes."

Kieran watched Sven silently. The dragon-shifter had been a diplomat once, and he could probably read more from Sven's expression than Sven could put into words. "Of course," he said. "You don't have to explain anything to us before you're ready." His voice sounded soothing, calming. "But you know that if you need help, we'll be there for you."

"I know." Sven managed a weak smile. "Thank you."

Kieran smiled back at him. "You're welcome. Now eat something. You're practically wasting away. I can see your bones."

Sven scoffed but picked up the fork next to his plate obediently. "Fine." He ate some of the scrambled eggs to show that he meant it.

Cale smiled at him. "Great," he said. "And now you can tell us why you stink."

Kieran elbowed his mate gently. "That's not how you ask people why they smell, love," he admonished.

"It's okay," Sven said. "Apparently, the smell masks my natural scent, which is attractive to vampires." He shrugged. "You know how it is. To them, we're all just fast food."

"Oh." Cale scrunched up his nose. "I guess that makes sense. Do you think it'll work?"

"I think I'll be fine," Sven said because he didn't want to think about the alternative. He'd already come too far to turn back now, and there were too many other things on his mind for him to worry about his own safety. "Thank you for the food, for everything, really, but I'd like to spend some time at home."

Home was just next door, after all.

The place where he'd lived with his mother, only a few days ago. He wanted to see it before the funeral. Maybe when he saw that she wasn't waiting for him in her bed anymore, reality would finally begin to sink in.

Maybe he would know what to do.