Chapter Ninety-four

CONTENT ADVISORY / TRIGGER WARNING

THIS NOVEL CONTAINS DEPICTIONS/STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE OR DISTURBING:

~ VIOLENCE

Stomping across the path, Libelle's feet squelched in the deep mud that seemed to be trying desperately to remove her leather boots. The weather had suddenly turned foul as she now walked towards the main entrance of her home. She was being struck in the face by freezing rain the entire time, and strong winds took hold of her long coat as they tried to drag her across the ground.

She pushed open the double doors and stepped inside the dark entry room. She shook off her sleeves and glanced around. None of the candles had been lit and with the dark clouds outside, the entire house looked very similar to a dungeon. With a sigh, she kicked off her boots and left them to dry out on the carpet. She hung her jacket on a hook near the door and felt around for a candlestick near the washing basin to her right.

Her hair was drenched and clinging to her skin, and even her shirt had started to absorb the rain water through her jacket. The storm was treacherous and had come out of nowhere. She fumbled around in the dark, blindly knocking several things off the shelves and table tops. Cursing, she stood up straight and turned around.

"By the Gods!" she shrieked. "Gaalin, what in Odin's name are you doing?"

She released the breath she had been holding, Gaalin having spooked her when she spun around. His dark skin blended a little too well in the shadowy room, but the candle he was holding flickered a soft yellow light onto his skin.

"You startled me," she said. "I didn't know you were there. You should have said something."

"My apologies," he said quietly.

She took the candle from him and turned around to resume the search for a candle of her own. She found one beneath a stack of papers and held the wick to the glowing end of the other. When both began to burn, she handed the original candle back to Gaalin, turned around and walked into the main hall.

"Why are the candles not lit? It's pitch black in here," she chuckled, bending over to light two more candles on the table top.

Gaalin didn't say a word in response, instead, he stared down at his hand with a grim expression. Libelle curiously turned towards him, holding the candle up towards his face.

"Gaalin? What's wrong?" she asked, her gaze lowering to his hand. Wrapped in his fingers was a blunt piece of wood, splintered and bloody.

She swallowed hard. "Gaalin, what happened? Are you alright?"

Reaching for his face, she touched his cheek and turned his head so he would look at her. Fresh blood was splattered all the way from his chin to his brow. His expression was troubled, and his jaw was clenched while his teeth ground together. Something was troubling her servant, and that troubled her.

"Gaalin, talk to me. What's wrong?"

His brows narrowed and his eyes squeezed shut as he repeatedly shook his head from side to side. She sighed as she took his hand and twisted her fingers with his. "Follow me, we can talk about whatever it is that's bothering you." She took a step forward, only stopping when Gaalin did not take a step with her. He cursed under his breath, and she momentarily hesitated before slowly turning around.

"Gaalin?"