Chapter Seven
The light disappeared some hours later, but the memory of it stayed in the minds of all those who had witnessed it. The soldiers were dubbing it the “sun bomb,” because of the way it had immobilized all the dead outside—though not the ones inside.
“We lost fourteen werewolves, forty-eight soldiers, and around three hundred civilians.” Ian stated this all while lying back in a comfy, cream and yellow armchair that almost looked edible under the soft lighting. Winifred preferred a bean bag on the floor, because it adjusted to her shape. She had been officially pardoned by the royal court, and celebrated in news as “The Golubrian Who Said No.” Though the statement itself was more anti-Golubrian, since it implied that only someone who stopped being a Golubrian could make decisions like Winifred did.
“That's not too bad,” Winifred said, examining Ian's arms. His werewolf blood had accelerated the healing, so it no longer appeared so nasty. The Golubrian insurgency had ended, but not without some costs. Winifred had lost and gained a family all in the same moment. She didn't know whether to be sad or happy.
“There's not many werewolves,” Ian said. “Even the loss of one is terrible. There's no more than two hundred living werewolves at the moment. The diversity helps it. Being too genetically close actually causes issues, which a lot of our nobility have. It's people like the Fjordans and Golubrians who are actually saving our bloodlines.”
“Two hundred? I didn't realize it was that low.” Winifred gaped at him. He smiled at her in that heart-squeezing way. That square jaw of his was really quite prominent. She couldn't help but drift her attention to it, finding the chin attractive in its own way. But of course, she shouldn't be inspecting a werewolf so closely.
“Maybe it will soon be higher,” he said, and there was a faint hint of something deeper in that statement. Something she definitely didn't want to think about.
“So, um,” Winifred said, desperately fishing for an intelligent conversation. She'd been invited here by Ian, and Kiara had let her go with a rather smug smile. “Who would have thought the Tarngol capable of doing such a thing? We all knew they were a cruel people. But the darkweaving? I had no idea it could animate the dead.”
“Why do you think things survive in the endless dark? This is the explanation. We don't exactly get much opportunity to communicate with the Tarngol. Nor,” Ian said with relish, “do we get much opportunity to see a small replica of the sun form above Kanthus, so bright that it can turn chunks of the sky light blue. Now that was an incredible sight. I bet the lightweavers are pounding at your door, demanding to know why you haven't attended the university yet or have any credentials.”
Winifred grinned, blushing slightly.
“You're quite the amazing woman. You should know that. And I'm glad you chose the right side.”
“Even with the pardon, it doesn't mean I'll be completely forgiven. People died because of me.”
“Perhaps I'm ready to forgive you. And perhaps... we can consider taking things further. Between us.”
“Um,” Winifred said, brain freezing. No. She must have imagined that. She definitely imagined that phrasing coming out of his mouth.
“Equally,” Ian continued, “I can declare you witnessing my face as an accident. But you know what that will mean.”
“Yes...” Winifred's heart sank horribly. Declaring their meeting as an accident would bar them in Kanthian law from ever having the opportunity to marry one another.
“No pressure. Speaking of pressure... have you heard from your mother since?”
Winifred shook her head, sighing. She could almost taste her mother's rage now, see the desolation in her face. But you couldn't buy everyone's loyalty with a pretty gift. No matter how rare.
It did, however, plague Winifred with more guilt over her choice.
“Tell me if she does try, please. As a special favor to a beleaguered detective.”
How could she refuse such a request? “I will. Shake on it?” They shook hands, and perhaps held one another for slightly too long. He didn't seem particularly willing to let her go.
The clock is ticking. We don't have an eternity.
She knew he waited for some type of confirmation from her—if she should declare them as partners, or have them part.
But she didn't want to declare him as a partner just yet. But...
“Can we take it slow? Just get to know each other a little bit? And give me some time to... adjust. We Golubrians take a while to court our partners. So the sudden marriage thing doesn't really work for me.”
“It doesn't really work for anyone,” Ian pointed out. “Since if your partner does turn out to be deranged, then you'll have some issues.”
Winifred grinned. “Shall we go on a date? Tomorrow? I still feel exhausted. They'll let us have the time, won't they?”
Ian's yellow eyes softened. His rounded lips curved into a smile, suiting his chin perfectly. In a low voice, he said, “I'm sure they won't mind waiting a little longer.”
Good, Winifred thought, smiling back. She needed the time. And she needed to know whether to let Ian go, or to keep him close.
***
The first date went better than expected. They kept it low-key, going for a walk around the gardens and stopping at a small restaurant for a meal afterwards. She found out information about Ian such as his favorite color being green, his favorite food, a rare beef steak (apparently a common dish choice for werewolves), as compared to her creamy potato soup. If he went to sleep too late, in the dawnnight he was functionally comatose. If there was such a thing.
Less appealing was the fact that he'd already had a date before, someone he courted while wearing his mask, but she’d long since rejected him and moved to someone else.
Winifred never had anyone court her directly. There were people who approached her mother and tried to buy Winifred's hand in marriage, though it was a frowned upon practise that only really took part in northern Golubria. She always kept her hair short, and men didn't like women with hair the same length as theirs.
Ian didn't seem to mind.
She left the first date pleased, looking forward to the next one.
Gradually, over the course of a month, their bond strengthened. But Winifred still didn't know what to do with her Big Chin werewolf.
“Marry him,” Kiara suggested as she lounged around on her opulent armchair, absently scratching holes in it with her light sword.
“I don't really want to marry anyone,” Winifred said. “I didn't come to Kanthus looking for love.”
“Nonsense. Love of people, love of life—love of freedom and of friendships. Everyone wants love,” Kiara said, once again spouting wisdom, and probably by accident. Kiara could be a little hit and miss with her philosophies at times. She'd already taken to building treehouses in the gardens, and she had a growing kitten, courtesy of Winifred. The first one had run away within the first night, finding an unexpected escape. The second kitten, a three-colored and sleepy little kitten which Kiara called Yawny, was quite attached to Kiara, and could now be let out of the rooms to wander as she pleased, since she always came back for food and cuddles.
“You can't exist just on love alone,” Winifred disagreed. “Life doesn't just suddenly fall into place because you love something.”
“No, it doesn't. But it helps. Better to have loved and lost, I say, than to have never loved at all. It's an experience, right? Learn from mistakes and all that. Grow as a person.” Then, ruining her perfectly profound speech, she said, “Damn, I really want to practise fighting someone right now. I want to see how tough the body armor is. Can you fire an arrow? Set me on fire? We can test it.”
“There's people who will be happy to test the parameters of your abilities,” Winifred said. “But it won't be me. I don't plan to accidentally kill one of my only friends. No matter how insane she is.”
Kiara grinned at this, dark eyes alight in mischief. “Anyway. Even if you're not planning on marrying anyone, will you waste an opportunity when it drops into your lap? Because sure, Ian might be all detectivey and dealing with crimes a lot, but he does seem to like you for some reason. Can't think why. I'm so much prettier and more interesting than you are.”
“You know I'm smarter than you. Remember how we communicated at the start?”
“With the stupid Kanthian rules? I remember. Kanthians seriously need to update their rule package. It's horrendous.”
Leaving Kiara didn't exactly leave Winifred with peace of mind. Yes, she was dating Ian. For some reason. Despite their bad start, their mistrust, and the chaos that led up to the assassination attempt.
Again, everyone just expected her to make a decision. Why couldn't they just leave her alone, and let her live without scrutiny?
But it doesn't work like that, does it? I already tried such a lifestyle for years. And it nearly got me killed, and it nearly got my heart broken on two fronts.
Only luck had prevented everything from collapsing. Luck, and the kindness of people she didn't deserve in her life.
Tears welled in her eyes as she considered this fact. Why did kindness have to hurt so much? Why did people persist in being kind when they should have slapped her away?
I have to make a choice. I can't do the same thing as before. I can't just pretend there isn't a choice to make.
Because soon there'll be nothing left to make at all.
The only thing Winifred was scared of was once again leaving her comfort zone. Once again dealing with a new direction in life she hadn't planned for.
Once again, relying on the kindness of others, along with their enduring patience. People didn't wait around forever. But Ian had waited long enough.
Steeling herself, Winifred made her choice. It terrified her, of course, and she didn't feel some wave of jubilation or whatever. She felt exactly the same as before, only that she knew what she wanted to do in her near future.
That was something, she supposed.
She met up with Ian at dusknight, not long after her conversation with Kiara. They hadn't yet arranged where they wanted to go—just to meet up.
Ian wore an elegant white tunic, black pants, floppy boots, and a cloak with a dark green trim. All he needed now was some kind of pointed hat and a feather, and he'd look like quite the romantic robber. Instead, his blond hair fell loose, and his yellow eyes regarded Winifred in deep appreciation. She'd opted for a type of corset that perhaps revealed a little too much cleavage, and tight pants. It all came out of her secret clothes chest, for when she wanted to use seduction as a technique. Not that she ever got around to it, but she liked having the option nearby, in case. She'd left the bracelet in her quarters. No sense having it around her—pretty much all of Kanthus knew Winifred had it by now, which meant that a small sum would leap at the chance to steal it.
“You've got a wonderful, floral scent about you,” Ian said, taking a deep sniff. Finding a perfume a werewolf liked was quite the task. Sensitive olfactory system and all that. “Maybe could be less overpowering.” He wrinkled his nose.
“Ian, my normal body scent is practically overpowering for you. We should just chop off your nose and be done with it. You complain enough as it is.”
“I'm not that bad,” he muttered, before giving her a roguish glint. “Where to, my lady? Perhaps we can explore the fenlands, go along the little rivers in a boat. Or go to that restaurant you seemed to like the other night. Makes a change from palace foods, doesn't it?”
“I'd like to keep things simple,” Winifred said, casually threading her arm with his. “Your rooms.”
She stuttered slightly on the last two words, which ruined the effect, but Ian appeared not to notice. “Huh?”
“Rooms. Yours. Go.”
He blinked rapidly, the smile fading. “No problem.” She knew why he hesitated. An unmarried woman entering his rooms in these circumstances would be considered scandalous.
“I've made my decision, Ian. I'm not going to keep you waiting any longer. I want to try out this husband and wife scenario. Even if the only reason I'm doing it is so that I don't lose you.”
Again, he did that rapid blinking, as if his brain was heating up and melting down all his thoughts into soup. “You're—you're sure?”
“I swear to the endless dark you better be a good kisser.”
Finally, the confusion lost its shroud, and his face illuminated instead in a beatific smile. “Why don't we see?”
Don't back out of this. Don't panic. Don't run away screaming. Almost every nerve in Winifred wanted to bolt down the gardens, into the palace and straight to her rooms, never looking back. The other, hardier part of her let him stoop down and mash their lips together.
Honestly, Winifred expected fireworks. She expected the world to disappear into an insignificant puddle and for nothing else but Ian's mouth to exist on hers—but instead, she just had that nice, strange texture against her mouth.
Also, she felt fairly certain that Ian didn't know how to kiss.
Then again, neither did she.
“Mm, no,” Winifred said, moving her lips away from his. “We need to badly practise that. That was awful.”
At first, he appeared hurt, but seeing the twinkle in her eyes, the hurt faded into amusement. “As long as you're willing to practise.”
“Oh, you bet I am,” Winifred assured him, as they moved their mouths together to kiss again.