Dahlia

  It took some time to step away from the edge of my impending mental breakdown, but Simon's space helped. When I finally calmed myself enough to speak again, I took a risk and asked another question I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to.

  Gesturing to Simon and the blood on his arms and shirt, I cleared my throat uncomfortably and asked, “Is that my blood?”

  “No,” Simon raised his head and sneered, “I tracked down your father.”

  He spat the word from his lips as if it disgusted him.

  I stilled, my mind racing for an explanation for the blood that didn't involve death. As if noticing my sudden fear, Simon promised, “Ash won’t lay his hands on you again—I’m certain of it.”

  Clearly, he misunderstood my concern.

  “What did you do to him?” My voice was distant—free of any indication I was worried about my father. Sure, I didn’t approve of his actions, but I also didn’t want him to die for what he did to me.

  With a smirk, Simon bent over in his chair and lifted a small, black bag to eye-level as he offered, “For you.”

  Hesitantly, I took the bag—the weight surprised me. And when I opened it to find the gruesome sight within, I gasped aloud, “You aren’t serious, Simon.”

  Inside the bag were two large and well-groomed hands—one with a ring I recognized from my father’s collection.

  “He learned his lesson, I think, but don’t worry about him too much. He’s alive. I expect he will regenerate in a few days. I didn’t want to kill him without your permission, but he needed to be punished.”

  I felt like Simon needed to be chastised for his impulsiveness, which was ironic, coming from me.

  “Won’t he tell someone?” I made a face, “You can’t just go around cutting off hands, Simon!”

  Or could he? Things were different for the Imms.

  “He wouldn’t dare speak a word to anyone,” Simon growled—eyes filled with dark fury at the thought before adding with a shrug, “Besides, they’ll grow back—no real harm done.”

  I tried to hand the bag back to Simon, but he raised a hand to stop me, “No—those are yours. A gift from me.”

  I was both disturbed and oddly touched by the gesture. He'd gone to great lengths to defend me.

  “Th—thank you, Simon,” I placed the bag on the table beside me—fully intending to burn them when Simon left. But something told me he might find it rude of me to destroy such a…thoughtful…gift in his presence.

  “There was another attack last night,” Simon interrupted my thoughts, “Five Mirnen dead this time—the King sent more Soldiers to patrol the city and find this…Reaper.”

  My temper flared.

  “The King should either stay out of it or do something about the missing children himself,” I snarled and swung my legs over the side of my bed, “That’s the best way to get rid of the Reaper.”

  As I started to rise, Simon jumped to his feet. “You should be resting.”

  “I need a bath.” I looked down at myself in disgust before eyeing his own bloody clothes. “And so do you. Go home and clean up. Get some rest—you look terrible.”

  It was a lie. He looked normal, despite the blood. But the point needed to be made.

  “I’m not leaving you alone—not until you’re healed.” He crossed his arms as if to reinforce his stance, and I couldn’t help but notice how toned they were.

  Simon didn’t strike me as much of a fighter, but he was surprisingly strong. His demeanor reminded me of Portia's—professional, well-groomed, and intelligent—but he was clearly dangerous too. If he cut down my father and walked away with his hands as a trophy, he was likely better with a sword than I realized.

  “You really don’t need to do that,” I felt my heart rate rise at the thought of spending any more time alone with Simon, “In fact, I’d prefer if we just forgot about all of this and went our separate ways.”

  But Simon didn’t care what I wanted.

  “I can rest when Elaine comes to keep an eye on you,” Simon crossed his arms stubbornly.

  A chill ran down my spine.

  “Elaine?” I heard my voice rise an octave or two, “You told her about me?”

  “I needed someone to keep an eye on you while I hunted down your father yesterday,” Simon grabbed my elbow to steady me as I rose to my feet, “And Elaine is loyal to me, almost to a fault.”

  “I’m more concerned about her loyalty to me! I’m not exactly legal, remember?”

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  “You can trust me, Dahlia—more than anyone, perhaps,” Simon leveled an almost pleading look at me, and as I started to stumble forward, he pressed a hand to my good arm to steady me. “Please, trust me.”

  That was asking too much.

  “I’m fine,” I waved him away, “And I don’t need Elaine here—I’m going out.”

  “Did you not hear what I said? Besides, you need to—”

  “Rest, I know,” I turned towards the washroom, “At least let me take a bath.”

  Simon muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like stubborn, but I ignored him—the bath was calling my name, and I was growing angrier about Elaine by the second.

  It took two full tubs of water to wash the blood and grime from my skin, and I spent several minutes picking grass and leaves from my hair. I was unsurprised to find that it had grown out more quickly without my daily dose of poison, leaving my hair with about an inch of white at my scalp. I carefully colored my hair and dutifully filed down my teeth to restore my human facade. When I returned to my bedroom, I felt whole again—healed and clean.

  “Back in bed, Dahlia,” Simon ordered as he walked into the bedroom through the main door. He must have heard my return.

  I pretended to stumble to my bed—collapsing onto it with feigned weakness as I spoke in a ludicrously feeble voice, “Oh, I feel faint. I’m just so helpless. I need a big, strong man to take care of me until I feel better. Wherever will I find someone up to the task?”

  Simon stood over me with a scowl, “You jest, but you certainly needed my help the other night, Dahlia.”

  Ouch. I wasn’t always so vulnerable.

  “I made it all the way back here on my own. And I’m perfectly fine now,” I complained as I closed my eyes and groaned in frustration. There was little chance Simon would let me leave without a fight. But Elaine? I could think of a few ways to…persuade her to let me go—namely, sneaking out when she inevitably underestimated me.

  “Don't be so childish. You need more time to rest.”

  “So, you trust Elaine, but what about the other Imms. What about Hawthorne? What if he found out about me?” I wondered aloud, cringing internally at being called childish.

  Somehow, that insult cut deeper than most.

  “Absolutely not,” Simon’s voice lowered to a menacing growl that made the hair on the back of my neck rise.

  “I assumed he was your friend,” I admitted—forcing calm into my voice despite how the darkness now radiating from Simon made my adrenaline spike.

  “And I know him well enough to never trust him with your secret,” Simon explained as I continued to lie casually on my bed with my eyes closed as if I wasn't on edge. I heard the clinking of metal across the room, but I only distantly wondered what Simon was up to.

  No, my thoughts were on Hawthorne now.

  Simon didn’t go into detail, but it was safe to assume he believed Hawthorne would kill me if he found out I was a Halfling. Could he really kill me without exploring this connection between us? Did he even notice it? Though the Reaper was a constant feature in my thoughts, I also couldn’t get the damned Imm out of my head most days. Maybe Hawthorne didn’t have the same problem.

  “But Elaine is different? Why?”

  The answer never came.

  The feel of cool metal slipping over my left foot startled me, and my eyes flew open to find Simon placing a metal shackle on my ankle. It clicked into place just as I had the sense to try to kick my foot away. I was too late. Simon had shackled me to the heavy wooden beam at the center of my room.

  “No! NO!” I lunged for the Imm, but he deftly stepped away with a chuckle—leaving me to grasp at air.

  “SIMON CALO!” I roared as I tried to lunge for him again, only to reach the end of my chain and fall face-first to the ground, “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

  “Not while confined to your room, you aren’t.”

  From the doorway, Simon frowned at me as he dangled a key on a metal loop from the end of his finger. I heard the front door open and close behind him and watched in frustration as Elaine stepped through the door—taking the key from Simon’s hand as she surveyed the room. Her eyebrows rose at the sight of me shackled to the wooden support beam, and she shot me an apologetic look before asking Simon, “What time tomorrow?”

  “Nine,” Simon turned to leave, “Keep her secure until then—no one in or out.”

  “And you—” Simon turned to me and ordered like he was talking to a pet dog, “Rest.”

  “Got it,” Elaine muttered—looking tense as she looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

  I narrowed my eyes at her obedience.

  As the front door slammed shut behind Simon, Elaine’s tension eased. She looked around, avoiding my eyes as if my glare made her uncomfortable.

  “Elaine Calo.” I surprised myself with the ferocity in my voice. “If you don’t give me that key, I’m going to kill you—that’s a promise.”

  Elaine rolled her eyes and turned to toss the key into the entryway, where it landed with a clink on the small table, then spoke in a chiding tone. “That’s no way to talk to a friend, Dahlia. Friends don’t threaten friends.”

  “You still think we’re friends?” My eyebrows shot up—I thought she’d been joking. “You look more like a jailer to me.”

  “Of course, we’re friends—I don’t make those decisions lightly, you know,” Elaine grinned as he sat in the chair Simon had occupied before. She ran a hand through her dark hair—damp as though she too had just bathed.

  “Well, we can talk about friendship later—for now, we have more pressing issues,” I glared at my jailer, crossing my arms stubbornly across my chest.

  “Like what?” Elaine sat up straighter—ready to help resolve whatever issues I brought up.

  I couldn’t help but smile at her, and I also couldn’t help but begrudgingly admit I even liked her. And if Elaine really could keep my secret to herself, perhaps we could be friends someday.

  Even if the thought of friendship with an Imm made my stomach churn.

  I cleared my throat to avoid laughing, “Like…”

  I paused and gestured to the room around us before glancing at the small clock on my bedside table and asking, “If you aren’t willing to let me go, how in the worlds are you going to keep me entertained for fifteen hours?”

  “Twenty-seven hours.”

  Elaine wouldn’t look at me as her meaning dawned on me. Simon meant nine o’clock tomorrow night. That meant I would be stuck here in this room with Elaine for over a full day. I’d never spent so much time together with a single person—I’d made sure of it. Max had tried before, but I’d never given him the chance to spend more than a night with me.

  The thought of being here with Elaine for so long made me want to pull my hair out in frustration, but that wouldn’t help anything.

  “Elaine?” I asked calmly—finally drawing her attention.

  “Yes, Dahlia?” She sounded hopeful—as though she believed I’d come to terms with being chained to my own bedroom.

  “Give me the damn key,” I ordered—voice calm but firm.

  I waited—hoping Elaine would have some sense.

  “No offense, Dahlia,” Elaine chuckled as she propped her feet up beside me on the bed, “But Simon terrifies me far more than you do—and he told me to keep you here.”

  I glanced down at the bag Simon had used to hold my father’s hands, and I couldn’t help but agree with Elaine. He had attacked my father without fear of repercussions, and I knew enough about my father to know he was important. People would listen if he complained about Simon’s attack. But Simon hadn’t been at all concerned about that.

  Simon was terrifying—maybe above the natural order of things in the Imm world.

  And maybe I was lucky to have him on my side.