Page 12 of The Demon’s Delight (The Demon Princes #3)

Chapter 11

Seir

H ailon was still curled up in a little ball, her breathing slow and even as I willed my body to relax back into slumber. I’d slept a bit, but it was still hours from dawn.

Normally, I’d get up, wander down to the unit desk and check on my assignments. Pop over for an in person visit if needed, write up my reports. It was a comforting routine, if boringly predictable. I absently calculated how long I’d been gone, finding it still far less than a shift cycle. I also wondered if I faced any kind of reprimand for being gone, despite having been summoned.

Turning on my side, I allowed myself several long minutes of watching the little human as she dreamt, my thoughts tangled and distracted.

Her hands were tucked under her cheek, her knees drawn up close to her chest. I wondered if I should perhaps have given her a third blanket the way she was curled up. Her slight form moved with every breath she took, a slow expansion and deflation. Even sleeping, she was lovely.

I, on the other hand, was a mess since having come topside. I was sleeping even less than usual despite my vigorous activity. My chest ached at odd moments, sometimes so fiercely I worried I might be ill. Even the smallest notion of approval from this fierce woman brought me pride so intense every part of my body responded.

Every. Part.

I scrubbed my hands across my face and turned away from her, scrunching my eyes closed. I’d had my share of lovers, but none of them ever affected me in such a way. It was a slow, delicious ache from the moment she looked at me until I saw the first breath of a smile. There was no relief from the crushing pressure of wanting to make her happy or being sure she was fed and cared for. And I might not ever have been summoned before, but I knew this was not part of that contract. This was different. I just couldn’t explain how or why.

Had circumstances been even slightly different, Kalob would not have survived our encounter. His joke had been anything but funny, and the slight to her honor had struck me in a deeply personal way. Which… was odd but not altogether unwelcome. The fierce little creature needed someone to take up for her, and that might as well be me.

After tossing and turning for perhaps another hour, I finally relented and climbed out of the little hay nest. Down on the main level of the barn, organization seemed to be an afterthought. Tools were scattered down a long workbench, many rusty or broken. Bales were stacked in a way that would be dangerous for the widow should she pull the wrong one first. So, grateful to have a task to focus on, I got to work.

By the time the roosters stirred, the large cubes of hay had been moved around into much more sensible stacks. I’d also repaired a set of shears missing their spring, fitted a new handle on a hatchet and had organized several sets of tools by size and type. Everything needed a good grinding and oiling to fend off the rust, but that was a problem for another day and someone else.

I left the barn as quietly as I could once the faint orange of dawn seeped through the cracks in the walls and roof, not surprised when I found the widow tossing grain and scraps to the fowl.

“You’re up early,” she said by way of greeting.

“I don’t sleep much.”

“Mmm. I understand that all too well. Would you mind drawing the water? I need to fill that trough.”

“Of course.”

“Did you find the loft suitable?”

“It was perfect, thank you again for your generosity. We’d love to repay your kindness.” I patted the coin purse in my pocket, but she shook her head.

“I’m sure we can find an arrangement that suits. Keep your money. You have a long way to travel once you leave this place.”

The next hour or so went like that, the pair of us moving in companionable quiet until she found me a little task to do, one that she always did given normal circumstances but was happy enough not to have to manage herself.

“Blessings to you, young man,” she sighed, clapping her hands together to dust them off. “I promised you biscuits and gravy. I’ll go heat everything up for you if you want to fetch your lady friend.”

“I’ll get her in a moment,” I said, walking back to where the chickens were all contentedly pecking at the scratch in the dirt.

I sat down among them, offering some of the treat from my palm.

As luck would have it, Hailon wandered out just as a hen decided my shoulder was a decent place to stand. I also had one on each knee, eating from my hands.

“Good morning,” I whispered with a smile, finding her adorably rumpled, though I could tell she’d made an attempt to put her hair to rights and had washed her face—her collar was still wet.

“Morning,” she grumbled.

“Did you sleep well?” The chickens fled in a flurry of feathers and noise as I spoke normally and made the slightest movement with my body.

“Well enough.” She looked around. “How long have you been up?”

“Not sure. But I’ve been productive.”

“I see that. You’re making friends?” She gestured to the chickens as I got to my feet.

“Apologizing for making supper of their sister.”

“Ah. Have you been up to the house?”

“Yes, but I haven’t eaten yet. The biscuits should just be coming out of the oven, in fact. Are you hungry?”

Hailon nodded, covering her mouth as she yawned. “Yes, actually. And I’m very much looking forward to eating her cooking again after last night.”

We stopped back at the barn before heading to the house. I gathered our packs, which I’d left near the stairs, then followed Hailon across the grassy yard. Widow Callahan had the first batch of biscuits in a towel-lined basket on the table and was busy rolling out more dough when we joined her.

“Good morning! Please, help yourself. Tea’s fresh.”

We thanked the kindly woman, Hailon watching her with rapt interest as she used a wooden rolling pin to flatten the dough on a big slab of butcher board, then cut it into neat circles with the rim of a small drinking glass.

“Won’t you join us?” I asked once she’d closed the oven door with the fresh pan of little circles safely inside. I couldn’t help feeling badly that the woman was still on her feet instead of resting.

“Yes, I think I will.” She smiled gently, her gait increasingly hobbled as she crossed the kitchen.

Hailon’s head tilted to the side as Widow Callahan spooned a decadent berry jam onto a steaming biscuit.

“Forgive me for asking, but do your joints ache?”

The widow laughed openly. “Only always. Nothing much helps for long, especially when there’s weather coming. Another blessing of getting older, I suppose.”

Hailon finished her food and carried her plate to the sink, washing whatever she could despite weak protests from our host.

After drying her hands on a towel, she pulled out the freshly baked batch of biscuits and set the pan on the stovetop.

“Shit!” Hailon hissed, cradling her hand to her chest as she turned to the faucet.

“Are you alright?” I asked, already on my feet.

“I bumped the pan is all, just a little burn. I’m clumsy in the kitchen, always have been.”

“Here.” The widow got to her feet, retrieving a pot of ointment from one of the cabinets. “I burn myself all the time. This one will help.”

“Thank you.” Hailon applied the salve, turning back to our host. “I’m sorry, I seem to have taken too much.” The widow scooped the ointment back from Hailon, rubbing it into her hands.

“No problem at all dear. My hands are rather dry, this will fix them right up.”

“Can I ask what kind of ointment that is?”

“Just a concoction my granny swore by. Beeswax and calendula with a little arnica mixed in. Not often we get a healer ’round these parts, so we make do ourselves. Heard tell of someone over in Olinbourg, but that fella who comes to peddle her ability isn’t the good kind.” Her mouth pinched. “I worry about that healer.”

If she only knew how right she was. Satisfied that the crisis was managed, I sat back down and helped myself to another serving of breakfast, unsure where our journey might lead us after we left this place.

“Do you know where we could get some better boots for her? I’m afraid the ones she’s got aren’t suited for long days of traveling.”

“They’re fine really.” Hailon frowned. “With the extra socks, I don’t slide as much.”

The older woman watched us with amusement. “Afraid those kinds of things are scarce until you get up to the Valley. Plenty once you do, though. I make a couple of trips a year to keep myself well stocked on everything I can’t get between here and Olinbourg.” She scanned Hailon head to toe. “You could always check with the girls at the bawdy house, but I’m guessing spare boots are not a likely find in their closets. I’d offer you some of my own to get you by, but I’m betting they’d be far too small.”

“That’s alright. Thank you anyway,” Hailon rushed to say, cheeks pink.

She nodded, then flexed her fingers several times, a perplexed expression on her face. “Funny. My hands don’t hurt near as much now. Perhaps I should use that ointment more often.”

Hailon offered a gentle smile, and I wondered if she’d done something neither the widow nor I could see.

We helped clean up, and the kind woman put together a whole separate pack of food for us, along with more blankets and odds and ends for camping that she claimed were taking up space in her cupboards. We were well outfitted thanks to her generosity.

“Better used by you folks than rotting away here. Hope they serve you well.”

Unable to stop myself, I threw my arms around them both. “This is so nice!”

The woman’s laugh started as a rumble but turned into a full-bodied cackle. She had tears leaking from her eyes she was laughing so hard by the time we all let go of the hug. “I don’t think I’ll forget this visit of ours. I’ll have to thank Scarlet for sending you my way. She’s always keen on a batch of my cobbler.”

She never did take any of the coin we offered, but she’d find a little stack of coins in one of her tool drawers one day soon, and the silver candlestick in the pail of grain for the chickens when she went out to feed them their dinner.

I hoped it made her laugh.