"Acheron will always sacrifice for his men. It's what he does," Sasha scoffed.
"Perhaps..."
But she knew better. Acheron would always do whatever was the greater good for all involved. He had never before interfered when it was time to judge or execute a rogue Dark-Hunter, and yet he had asked her personally to judge this one...
He hadn't allowed Zarek to be killed nine hundred years ago for destroying his village and killing innocent humans.
If Zarek truly posed a danger, Acheron would never have bargained with them for a hearing or allowed the Dark-Hunter to live. There had to be more to this.
She had to believe Acheron.
She had to.
Zarek sat alone in his room, watching the snow fall outside through the open curtains. He was seated in the rocking chair, but remained motionless. After his "meltdown," he'd gone through the house replacing bulbs and picking up the broken pictures. Now everything was eerily quiet.
He had to get out of here before he snapped again. Why wouldn't the storm break?
The hall light came on, temporarily blinding him.
He frowned at that. Why did Astrid use lights when she was blind?
He heard her padding down the hallway toward the den. Part of him wanted to join her, to talk to her. But he had never been one for idle conversation.
He didn't know how to make small talk. No one had ever been interested in anything he had to say.
So he kept to himself and that suited him just fine.
"Sasha?"
The sound of her melodic voice went through him like shattered glass.
"Sit here while I make another fire."
He almost got up to help, but forced himself to stay in his chair. His days as a servant to the rich were over. If she wanted a fire, then she was just as able to make one as he was.
Of course he could see to light the kindling and his hands were rough from hard work.
Hers were soft. Delicate.
Fragile hands that could soothe...
Before he realized it, he was headed for the den.
He found Astrid kneeling before the hearth, trying to push new logs onto the iron grate. She was struggling with it and doing her best not to get burned in the process.
Without a word, he pulled her back.
She gasped in alarm.
"Move out of my way," he snarled.
"I wasn't in your way. You got into mine."
When she refused to move, he picked her up and dropped her into the dark green armchair.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her expression startled.
"Nothing." He returned to the hearth and made the fire. "I can't believe that with all the money you have, you don't have someone here to help you."