Scribbles and Drabbles

NDB 52: Collecting Enemy Children 2

Roxanne didn't say much. She didn't thank him for the clothes, but was distinctly grateful. That might be a fae thing. She moved with assurance but stayed in sight at all times, ignoring when she ducked away to deal with nature. She was as graceful in her human guise as in her cat form, lithe and delicate. Jordan's gut flared protectively. Mrs Doyle's words came to him, and he understood a little more why she'd question this.

The first night, she shifted into her feline form to sleep next to Jordan. The ethics of that bothered Jordan. A young woman shouldn't be sleeping in the same bed as a man considerably older than her. Fae or not, Roxanne was a child.

He built a bed for her across the room, with plenty of space between them. It would be better in a different room, but there wasn't enough room in the cabin. She napped on it during the day, but returned to him at night. He should discuss it with her, but didn't. It might be a fae thing. The fae were tricksty, and if she wanted to sleep next to his heart and lungs, he wouldn't look too closely at that. 

He also distinctly ignored the fluttering in the rafters. He worried about pests before he caught a glimpse of the creature curled in his older sister's fur. Bruce, the youngest of the brood and a bat shifter, had arrived.

Food vanished. He made extra and left it where Bruce could pinch it without being obvious. Roxanne tried to distract him when Bruce moved a little too loudly or if Bruce needed to get outside.

Jordan didn't want to let him outside. Bruce was at best six years old in human years. He also didn't know how to lure the child in and make him stop hiding. Jordan didn't like it when someone watched him, trying to be sneaky. The trained spy in him hated it. Bruce wasn't a danger; if anything, with his father sealed, Bruce was likely very weak. This couldn't last forever. Jordan watched the shadows flicker, considering options.

"Are you well?" Roxanne said, a knife in her hand as she tried to mimic Jordan's woodcarving. "You are very interested in that corner. There are no ghosts or anything magical lurking."

"I wouldn't count on it, but no. I'm a little lost in my thoughts." Jordan put his piece down. He hadn't told anyone about Roxanne. The villagers know, but no one important at the Capital. He didn't know how smart it would be to tell them. The faelings were young, but their father had helped try to topple the kingdom. Some of his former friends would demand their deaths out of fear or spite. Cliff would be spiteful, the odious toad. 

"Find your way," Roxanne rolled her wrist, stopping too, confused at the phrase. 

"Doesn't work like that, sweetpea." 

Roxanne pulled a face, and Jordan grinned at her. She glared in a very painfully young manner. The face of a child who thought she knew the world when she did not, and was not happy to be reminded of it. She rubbed her palm, not used to the wood carving. 

"Waiting puts me on edge, I'm on holiday here, a little long-term, but I worry when I hear nothing from the capital," Jordan said, not telling everything but enough. 

"I don't like waiting either, but father says patience is important to any plan," Roxanne said, turning red as she mentioned her father. The wind outside blew stronger, whistling through the chimney. The window shuttered creaked. The fire shifted with it, but the logs were well stocked, and it would take more to put it out.  

"He's not wrong about that," Jordan started cutting again. 

"Do you regret what happened?" Roxanne dared to ask, not facing him. 

"Sweetpea, regret is not something someone in my profession can have. I wish it hadn't come to it, and I hope I never have to seal someone in the shadows again, but I can't change the result. I served my purpose. What more could a person want?"