Devon could already read the subtle nuances of their unspoken language, and respond in kind. He was already nearly as good as this place’s absolute best fighters, something Halvor had grudgingly acknowledged earlier when he’d put Devon on the short list of people Charity was permitted to spar with.
She smiled, and her magic flowered, filling the room with perfect harmony.
“Nice work, Arcana,” Kairi called in through the window. “You handled that surge all on your own. You’re starting to find your balance. Good work. You learn abnormally quickly, as the Second has noticed.”
“You don’t have much privacy, though,” Andy murmured.
“It’s just because of my magic,” Charity replied, stupidly not having checked if the window was closed. Oops.
She took in a deep breath. She really did need to try a little harder. So what if all these strangers wanted to hug? They were caring, friendly people who were happy she was around—she should celebrate that.
“Anyway,” she said as another knock sounded on the door. Familiar voices reverberated through the wood. “Come in!”
Her father pushed the door open with a pleased smile. “Look who I found,” he said, stepping aside to make room for Devon. “The man who has the whole village talking.”
Andy hopped up and offered a bow. “Second,” he said.
“Fantastic, another of the pack. I saw you fighting today too.” The Second—her dad—stopped beside the chair in the corner and waited, facing her.
“Yes, of course.” She motioned to it.
Devon didn’t wait to be asked, thankfully. He sat down beside her on the couch. Andy reclaimed his seat.
“Hi,” she said, threading her fingers between Devon’s.
“Hey.” He kissed her on the forehead.
“I must confess, it is exciting to see the Shifter Pack in action,” her father said. These people had a way of emphasizing all things shifter. It was an unexpectedly nice gesture. “There is so much…” He fisted his hand and gritted his teeth. “And that lion! Or the… What is the white creature with the horrible face and long arms?”
“A yeti,” Charity said with a smile.
“Yes, yes, of course.” It was clear he had no clue what a yeti was. “Their roars are fantastically rejuvenating. Every time I hear them, I want to grab my sword and head to the battlefield. I have never met the shifter race before this, but I was able to pry information out of a reminiscent elder regarding the glory of battling with them. Our peoples were entwined for a large part of our history. I see why.”
“Have you ever been in a battle?” Charity asked. “Like…with an enemy?”
The Second squinted a little, and she knew she’d said something wrong. “Thankfully, it is peacetime,” he said. “There are no enemies to be had.”
Charity tried to keep from frowning and tilting her head. Tried, and failed.
Peacetime? Some of them had recently battled demons. They were keeping a wary eye on the elves hanging around the edges of their land. It was anything but peaceful out there. He wasn’t a stupid man. Even if these disturbances were new, they were there. For him to sweep them under the carpet made her wonder if they’d always swept issues under the carpet. And if so, why? What were they hiding from?
Not like she was brave enough to ask. She was still a halvsie. She couldn’t raise a fuss yet. She couldn’t ask questions that got squints and tight shoulders. Not yet.
“Then there are the wolves.” The Second leaned back and rested his arms on the armrests, a sign he was settling in for a longish visit. It struck her that she’d been sending the wrong messages all day. “Their synchronicity is…”
He let his body language finish the sentence for him, leaving Charity in the dark.
“Translate?” she whispered to Devon.
“Spellbinding,” he supplied.
“And it is something we can learn from.” Her father shifted, and Charity was too tired to keep trying to read his cues. She leaned against Devon’s arm. Her father saw it—he saw everything—and smiled benignly. “Forgive me. I forget that the human lands have a much more…vocal way of communicating. Why, I was scarcely understood when I was there. My dearest—” Affection took over his features, and an answering warmth filled Charity’s middle. It had come as a relief to hear he’d genuinely loved her mother—that he still loved her. “Your mother, I mean. She had to speak for me half the time. I’ll never forget. She always said, ‘Use your words, darling.’”
Andy laughed, and his shoulders lost their tension again. He never had been good with authority