Conquering The Unbroken

Chapter 51

Renit exposes both his palms in innocence. This is the first time I've seen him this way, eyes so wide and full of fear that he doesn't know what to say, what to do other than to show he doesn't have a weapon.

"It's all right," he promises. "It's me, Renit Marron. It's me."

I lower my dagger enough to get Darlene's mother off her toes and she slinks down back to her original height, looking between the three of us. Bren is in the doorway, two daggers clenched in his fist and the sword halfway out of its sheath before he decided smaller weapons, something with compaction, was necessary in such a small space.

Our heads are nearly touching the ceiling. Part of the cottage is caved in but it's blocked off by what appears to be a makeshift wall of stone. The smell of the cottage reminds me of death, although different in its entirety from what we faced in the Ducoria streets. This is a death that translates over years, over the span of someone giving in to the Age Lock.

"Renit?" She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you...there are rumors going around that you're dead."

Her sapphire eyes, twin to Darlene's, look Renit up and down. The wrinkles around her eyes prove she's given in to the Age Lock, and around her small mouth, frown lines have formed over the years—or months—of her aging. Darlene's mother is willing to die, she's aging herself like a mortal would.

Deciding she's no longer a threat, I lower my dagger the rest of the way and distance myself from both of them. This isn't my fight, I'm not the one that's supposed to be standing in front of Darlene's mother. Right now, all they need to see is each other after one hundred plus years of never coming face to face. I remember when Renit left a pouch of coins on their doorstep; how excited she was. There's none of that excitement in her face now.

Her hair, pulled behind her head into a tight knot, is fraying around her scalp. The pecan strands flutter around her full cheeks and tickle her jaw. It's not a noticeable fault, but blood stains her apron and her shoes are torn at the toe and at the heel.

"That's clearly wrong," Renit jokes, splaying his arms wide to show her he's still alive. "I'm here, and despite everything that has happened, I'm still breathing."

A shaken laugh leaves her and her shoulders droop when she walks over to Renit and takes her in his arms. They embrace, Renit's strength pulling her in gently. He holds her close as her small shoulders shake at the reminder of her deceased daughter and what has happened over these recent days. I don't know what she has faced, but I know it can't be anything good.

Bren and I exchange a look, wondering if we should leave them to talk alone. As much as this isn't my battle to fight, it's definitely not Bren's, either. I open my mouth, daring to ask if he wishes to step outside, when Darlene's mother speaks over me.

"Come, take a seat in the kitchen," she says. "I'll make you some tea."

She guides Renit in, her hand on his back, and with her free hand, she gestures for us to follow. This doesn't feel right; I don't belong here as much as Bren doesn't. I stand in the entryway, unable to move. Where I go, Bren stays. So we stay where we're standing until Renit looks over his shoulder, eyes going directly to me.

The kitchen is in the next room through an open, stone archway, and he'd started to pull out a chair at the wooden table before he realized no one was behind him.

"I'll wait outside," Bren whispers in my ear. "I'll keep a watch on everything."

No, he can't leave me here all alone. As much as Bren and I have distanced over the span of these months, I still want him to be there when these awkward moments swell up so much there isn't enough room for air. This is one of them, and he's my only escape if Darlene's mother decides I'm not worthy of the man that once loved her daughter so much that he created a family with her.