He comes in carrying a wooden crate that looks to be overflowing with sacks, bottles, and root vegetables poking out of the top. He stops just inside the room, taking in the silence before his eyes land on me. “Good to see you without the puddle underneath you.”
I blink.
Did he just say I peed myself?
I look around to see if Judd is smirking. He seems like he’d laugh if I’d peed myself. Only, there’s no smile to be found. Hopefully that’s a good sign.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Your gold,” he says slowly. “When you started to come to, it was leaking out of you all over the place.”
Oh.
An awkwardness descends, because I have to go from possibly peeing myself to realizing that he’s talking about my power so openly. The fact that he just casually mentioned seeing gold stream out of me is more than a little disconcerting, and I can’t quite wrap my head around this new version of normalcy. It’s become second nature for me to hide my power, to hide from touch, so this feels almost…wrong.
“Sorry about that,” I say awkwardly. Then I squirm on my feet. “Umm, since we’re on the topic, where’s the washroom?”
He frowns. “We were on that topic?”
I feel heat flood my cheeks. “Oh. Nope. No, we weren’t,” I blurt before I look over to Lu, hoping she’ll take pity on me. “Washroom?”
“Come on, Gildy,” she says, unfolding herself to lead me out of the room. Her slippers really are very large and furry. I’m surprised she’s still so light of foot with those on.
I follow her as she takes me to a door down the hall. “This is my room, the washroom is right through there, and grab some clean clothes from my closet too—I set a pile aside for you.”
With a nod of thanks, I quickly go inside, do my business, and wash up as best I can. Then I take off my ruined, gold-splotched clothes, feeling like they dried with paint splattered all over them. Though as soon as I drag the shirt off my back, I freeze at a sharp stab of pain that shoots down my spine.
I stop.
Suck in a breath.
And I slam walls up so fast that I make my own mind spin.
I’m not going there. I’m not.
With determination as strong as steel, I carefully pick up an oversized shirt and slip it on and then drag on a new pair of leggings. All while I breathe through braced lungs, fortifying my mental walls.
With one last breath, I force myself to unclench my teeth, to relax my arms at my sides. When I’ve secured myself, I head out, going back into the main living room. As soon as I do, everyone’s murmured voices go quiet as they all turn to me.
“Better?” Lu asks from her spot on the sofa next to Judd.
“Much,” I reply, hovering in the doorway. Everyone in the room is stilted in silence, and I don’t miss the way they keep shooting questioning looks at Slade.
“Okay…” his brother drawls out, shifting on his feet before he glances at the others. “Well. Like I was saying, I went to the Cellar for supplies because I know none of you had dinner. But it’s not my turn to cook, so one of you assholes can do it this time.”
Judd gets up from the sofa to take over the duty, but I rush forward, beating him to it. “I’ll do it!”
Everyone looks at me, but I pretend not to see as I head for the open doorway.
“I didn’t mean you,” Fake Rip says.
“I’m hungry, and I want to help,” I call over my shoulder.
“Auren…” Slade begins, but I sidestep him before he can reach for me.
As soon as I pass into the kitchen, I hear quiet murmurings behind me, but I ignore them and instead look around the space. It’s just as homey as the living room, except instead of wood paneling, smooth white walls make up three sides, and then the fourth is made up of the same brick as the fireplace. It’s here at the brick wall that an iron stove sits, its grate glowing slightly from embers within and a stovetop just above it. There’s a round black table with curved benches tucked beneath it off to the right, and the rest of the walls have hanging shelves along their length stuffed full of cookware, with wooden countertops just below.
After a few more seconds, I hear footsteps, and I turn as Slade’s brother comes inside. He heads for a small door just past the dining table, which I’m guessing is the pantry, where he sets down the crate. I hear him rummaging around before he reappears a few seconds later.
We stand facing each other awkwardly before he says, “I guess I never got the chance to properly introduce myself. I’m Ryatt. Nice to formally meet you.” He reaches up to scratch the back of his head full of black hair. It’s the same as Slade’s.