Page 11 of Sophie's Ruin
Waylon and I stepped farther apart from each other to give Wren a wider berth to pass between us. Our eyes locked for a second, but Waylon quickly averted his gaze as if he couldn’t bear to look at me. No matter. His palpable hatred toward me was the least of my concerns.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, turning after Wren.
“Saving her life,” he threw over his shoulder as he strode toward the cottage.
The low-rise steps of the porch creaked as he quickly climbed them, stopping before the worn front door. He glanced at me and jerked his chin in a silent request to open it for him. Once Ihad, he carried Isabelle inside and laid her on the threadbare rug in the middle of the living room. Her blood quickly soaked the thin and tattered fabric, staining the wooden floor underneath.
I halted on the other side of the threshold as I watched Wren shrug off his cloak and drop to his knees by Isabelle’s side. He retrieved a pocketknife and sliced open his wrist before promptly bringing it to her mouth, his blood mixing with the dried blood around her lips.
“Drink,” he pleaded low. Isabelle lay unmoving on the floor, her mangled body bathed in the glow of the oil lamps. “Damn it, Isabelle, drink!” Wren shouted as if the raised volume of his voice would make her obey his command.
Nothing happened for several long minutes as I listened to the sluggish beating of Isabelle’s heart. It was growing weaker, fainter by the second, slowing down until I held my breath, fearing the next beat would never come.
Suddenly, Isabelle’s chest rose sharply, and her eyes flew open, pitch-black and unseeing. Her hands snapped up, grabbing Wren’s wrist, and she began drinking deeply, savagely. A harsh grunt left Wren as he clenched his teeth, breathing through the pain while Isabelle fed as if her life depended on it. And in that moment, it did.
“Don’t let her take too much,” I said to Wren before I turned around and stepped outside, closing the door softly behind me.
6
Abreath of relief left me when I saw Waylon was still here. I’d feared he’d taken off toward New Haven while I’d been distracted. I’d hoped he wasn’t foolish enough to brave the Black Forest alone, but he was desperate, and desperate people did foolish things. I knew because I was desperate, too.
Angling my head, I listened to Isabelle’s heartbeat inside the cottage. It was growing stronger by the second, her breathing becoming more even. She was going to be okay. She had to be—I needed to know what had happened at the mansion after Celeste had snatched me away. What had happened to him… A ragged exhale escaped as my eyes pricked with tears. Briefly squeezing them shut, I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger. I couldn’t give in to panic. Not until I knew how dire the situation truly was. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I opened my eyes and took a steadying breath.
Waylon paced the front porch, the warped wooden boards groaning under his heavy footsteps. Celeste sat in an old wooden chair in the corner, her eyes closed, and her weathered face relaxed. She appeared asleep, but I knew better than to think that she was—she was listening to the world around her. I hadto fight the urge to shake her and ask if she knew what had happened to Henry.
“What’s going on in there?” Waylon asked, stopping his pacing. He jerked his chin toward the closed door behind me.
It seemed we were putting what had happened earlier aside for now. Fine by me. We would just add what had transpired to the many things that had been left unspoken between us ever since I’d turned.
“Wren is giving Isabelle his blood,” I said, and Waylon’s brows shot up in shock. “Willingly,” I added quickly.
The thought of Wren doing that for Isabelle brought a scowl to my face because I didn’t trust his motives. I had good reasons not to trust him. Two weeks ago, he’d kidnapped me and brought me to the Black Forest to deliver me to the Dark Witches.
“Do you need to feed?” Waylon asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Now it was my turn to be shocked.
“Are you offering?” I asked, pinning him with a stare.
He paled and swallowed thickly but didn’t avert his gaze.
“Yes,” he replied.
The tendons in his neck stood out as all his muscles tensed. The smell of his sweat and fear permeated the air.
“Why would you do that?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.
He clearly didn’t want to do it. In light of recent events, I realized that I didn’t trust his motives, either.
With a heavy sigh, he dragged a hand through his short, light-brown hair. “I feel like what happened was my fault.”
“It was,” I said without hesitation. “It’s because of you that we’re stuck here, and Henry’s life is now in danger.”
If he’s still alive,an echo of thought in my mind.He is!I shouted in my head, refusing to believe the alternative.
“And his life wouldn’t be in danger otherwise?” Waylon challenged. “The clans are not going to give up control over the Empire. You and Henry stand in their way.”
“You said I’m just like the rest of them,” I bit out.
