away to hide my hurt. Yes, I know he won’t take advantage of it. He’s possibly the only man in the realm who won’t take advantage of a distressed young woman, even when she’s throwing herself at him.
Then his words sink in: I’ve seen no one else come and go from here, save you, since I arrived, and my skin prickles once more. He’s been watching me. Why? When? Clearly not during the full moon, or at least not closely, or else he’d know there was someone else here. Something else.
I’m about to argue, out of habit, when I bite my tongue. Though I trust him, as much as I trust anyone these days, I’m painfully aware he already has enough to hold over my head. And despite his assurances that he won’t take advantage, it’s one more thing he knows about me while I still know nothing of him. He already has too many advantages over me.
His head jerks with what I assume is surprise. “Mum’s the word,” he says eventually, before smiling slyly at his own joke.
“Look.” I move around him, towards the door, plastering a chagrined smile across my own face. “I’m grateful for your … help, Silas, but I do have a lot to do. If I’m supposed to evacuate, then…” I trail off, shrugging.
I can feel him staring at me, but I can’t think of anything else to say and he doesn’t speak either. The moment becomes a real, tangible thing in the room and it closes in on me. I’m still clutching his money, and hold it out again, but he doesn’t move and I put it down on the mantelpiece. Finally he shrugs, walking past me towards the door, ignoring the small pile of coins.
“I’ll see you soon, Errin,” he says as he opens it, the sky purple and red beyond it.
“Stay out of trouble,” I warn him, summoning a smile.
He has barely started to close the door when there is a loud crash from my mother’s room.
In an instant he’s back over the threshold, his head tilted, appearing to look at me from inside the hood. Then he closes the front door and strides across the room. I throw myself in front of the bedroom door as he reaches for the key in the lock.
“Don’t,” I say as I realize why she banged, what time it is. I haven’t brewed her tea.
He looks down at me and then I’m painfully aware of how little space there is between us. I can’t look up at him.
“Please don’t. Please go,” I beg.
Silas shakes his head and takes me gently by the shoulders, moving me out of the way. I close my eyes briefly as he opens the door.
She is sitting on the bed, her water cup on the floor beside the door, the contents spilled. Her grey hair is wild around her head, her eyes focused on Silas as though he’s prey, and my heart lurches.
Silas seems not to notice, approaching her quietly and crouching beside her. “Hello,” he says softly, and then, in an action that shocks me, he pushes the edge of his hood back a little and shows her his face. I catch a glimpse of cheekbone, high and sharp, the tips of pale lashes. “I’m Silas, a friend of Errin’s. You must be her mother.”
There is a bone-shaking moment when I think she’s going to lash out at him. But instead she gapes, her mouth an “O”. I wait for her to move, and when she leans back against the pillow, her eyes drinking in his face, I rush into the room to examine her.
Her eyes are still red, still feral. Nothing has changed.
When they move to me, they narrow and I step back. “I’ll get you some tea, Mama.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her while you make it,” Silas says. He’s lowered his hood again, hiding all but his mouth, which gives nothing away. I look back at Mama to see her gaze fixed on him once more, settling down, watching him, but not in a way that suggests he’s prey. “Has she eaten?” he asks.
“Yes. Before I left for the meeting I gave her some bread and stew. She won’t want to eat until tomorrow, now. She never does.”
He nods, and I watch the two of them, looking from one silent figure to the other, neither of them paying any attention to me. It’s stupid, so stupid to