Page 17 of Wolf's Bane
“Drink,” Solenne prompted, pushing the glass into his hands.
He held her gaze for a long moment, the glare louder than any accusation. Finally, he took a mouthful and swallowed the pill.
“Funny how I don’t remember writing.”
“You had a fever. I’m sure there’s plenty you don’t recall,” she said, voice placid. She stripped the bed, tossing the soiled linens to the floor.
“I would never ask that coward for help.”
“We don’t have a choice, do we? Sending Luis to hunt alone would be suicidal,” she retorted, heat seeping into her voice. She refused to let anything of the sort happen to her brother because of Godwin’s pride.
Silence stretched between them as she remade the bed. Finally, with fresh sheets and a well-worn but clean quilt in place, she turned her attention to Godwin’s clothes. He had worn the same sweat-stained shirt for days, and it stank. She tossed a clean set of clothes onto the bed.
“You must think me worthless to ask him to come here, after what he did,” Godwin said, breaking the silence.
Solenne had heard this tirade before. Godwin blamed Aleksandar for the death of their mother was the long and the short of it, despite knowing that Amalie took unnecessary risks. Amalie always had. Alek had been in Amalie’s workshop the day of the explosion, but he had not been responsible. Anyone could see that.
Well, anyone sensible.
Frankly, Solenne was sick of Godwin’s self-indulgent pity, his anger at losing Amalie, and his suffocating need to control his children.
“Marechals hunt monsters. We all know that,” she said.
“And now I can’t. You’re replacing me.”
“For the love of—” She rubbed the back of her neck, aware that most of her hair had escaped from her bun. “I don’t think you’re useless, Papa.”
“I am blind.”
“In one eye. One!” She grabbed the quarterstaff from him and swung with no real force. He blocked the staff easily, then wrenched it away. It smacked into furniture. “Not so blind after all.”
“Do not taunt me, girl. I am useless out there.” He waved a hand toward the window.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that your decades of experience and knowledge were contained in that eye. I’m so sorry for your loss, but how extraordinary! We should write to the academy in Founding. Top minds will want to examine you—”
“Enough of your sarcasm, girl,” he snapped. With a weary sigh, he rubbed the mostly white stubble on his chin. When had his iron gray turned white?
“There is a wolf out there with the taste for blood,” she said. Hopefully, her words would remind him that the situation was bigger than his pride and his injured eye.
“Am I such a failure?” he asked.
“No, Papa.” She abandoned her tidying and knelt at his feet, her hands on his knees. “You want to keep us safe, to keep everyone safe.”
“It is our duty to guard the nexus point,” he intoned, practically chanting the often-repeated phrase.
“Luis cannot do this on his own.”
“He’s not much of a fighter,” Godwin said.
Solenne fought back the urge to argue. Luis was an excellent fighter, but there was more to him than the love of the hunt.
He patted her head, just as he did when she was a child. His rough hands knocked free the last of her hair from the bun, but her appearance was the farthest thing from her mind. In the silence, he was just a man, worried about his family and his declining health. She recalled all the wonderful memories, the laughter and joy that sparked in Godwin with ease before sorrow and grief took that away.
“Do not think I haven’t seen you practicing archery,” he said, breaking the silence.
He had seen that? They had chosen a field so far away and been so careful. A servant must have reported their activity, probably Travers. He had an uncanny ability for knowing when she was up to mischief. Or Godwin had spied Luis carrying the equipment.
No, she decided. Her father didn’t know, not for certain, and waited for Solenne to deny it.
