Anything else, whether it be love, hate, or indifference, could come later.
She sighed, sipped her tea and patted Greta’s hand.
“Thank you,” she said.
When Solomon and the others returned, they came bearing armloads of fruits, vegetables, eggs, bread and even a small amount of bacon. None of it was overly fresh, but Greta’s face said they were things that hadn’t been seen in the house for a long time.
“How?” Greta asked.
“This guy,” Friedrich said. “And his friends.” He beamed at the kids. “They knew where to go, and Solomon followed them. He bought whatever food he could and then made sure it got back here safely. There were a few toughs who thought they’d take a chance, but one look at him and that sword of his, and they decided to try for easier prey.”
“It’s wonderful,” Greta breathed.
“It’s probably the last for a while,” Solomon said. “We cleaned out most of the sellers we could find.”
“I’ll make it last,” Greta said.
Breakfast was wonderful, with Greta showing what she could do with real ingredients. Celia wasn’t surprised, considering what she had done with almost nothing up to now.
As she ate, she studied Solomon, noting the way Greta and Friedrich were already comfortable with him, and the way the children looked at him like he was a hero from a storybook. She knew how they felt. She had felt the same at one time.
But now… now she still loved him, she just didn’t worship him anymore. Instead, she wanted him as an equal. And that meant working with him to fix whatever was going on in the town.
“Well,” she said, setting down her fork. “Let’s make a plan.”
Chapter 51
Things had changed between them. That first heady feeling of seeing each other had been tempered by the news. There was never any question of telling Celia what happened to her father and his role in it. She had the right to know everything, and he would need to deal with the consequences of that, even if that meant enduring her hatred.
For all that, Solomon was proud of her. Greta and Friedrich filled him in the night before on all that she had done in Dunfield. From trying to rescue their daughter from the hunters, to entering the manor by herself and being the only person to come back out of it.
She was trying to make the place better for Greta and Friedrich, and those like them, just as he was. And she was succeeding every bit as much as he.
He smiled at her tentatively, the expression that usually came so easily to him feeling strange and out of place. Celia glanced at him, smiled sadly back and then turned away.
Well, maybe she didn’t quite hate him.
He was starting to open his mouth to mention that they needed to plan for how to move forward when she beat him to it.
“Well,” Celia said, “Let’s make a plan.”
“A plan for what, dear?” Greta asked.
“To get rid of those things and get Lyssa back, for one. And then to fix whatever is wrong with this place.”
“Tall order,” Friedrich said.
“Maybe. Okay, yeah, it is. That doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”
“What about those hunters?” Solomon said. “You said they left?”
“Yes. I followed them yesterday morning. All except one ran out of the gates and disappeared. They didn’t come back last night, but I don’t know about this morning. I was still sleeping when it was dawn.”
“They didn’t,” Friedrich said. “I’m always up at dawn. They haven’t tried getting into anyone’s house yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. I can usually hear them whistling, whether close by or streets away. This morning, there was nothing.”
“Where did they go then?” Celia asked.
Solomon looked around the table, seeing only puzzled faces. He had no ideas either, until he remembered the figure in white that he trailed here. The one that attacked the Mar-trollid camp.
“Oh no,” he said. He turned directly to Celia. “I think I know.”
The three other adults looked at him expectedly. Even the kids stopped what they were doing and turned to him.
“The Mar-trollid,” he said. “There was one there. I fought it and then tracked it here. If they’ve decided it’s time to move on them…”
“The Mar-trollid won’t have a chance,” Celia finished. “They’re not fighters.”
“No, they’re not. At least not enough that they’d be able to win against those things, especially with how many you say went.”
“We have to get to them,” Celia said.
“You can’t,” Greta said. “You’ve seen what happened to those that tried.”
“Best to forget it,” Friedrich said, his face telling a different story. For all his words, he wouldn’t forget. “What’s done is done and there’s no way for us to help them.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Celia said.
Solomon was thinking the same thing. The problem was getting past the rats without being bitten but moving fast and keeping a steady pace should do it. The rats were large and vicious, but they were still rats and couldn’t move as fast as he could.
“I can make it,” he said.
Celia turned to him. “Who says you’re going?”
“Who else?”
“Me.”
“But—”
“Don’t but me. I was doing just fine before you came along.”
“I know that. I wasn’t going to say you weren’t. Only, if the hunters are attacking the Mar-trollid, what will you do?”
“I’ll…” Celia started, then stopped, a frown appearing.
“Right. I’m not even sure what I’ll do. Maybe I can rally the Mar-trollid. And at least I’ve got a weapon.”
“So, I’m supposed to sit at home, waiting for you to return?”
“No. There’s still one here, right? And besides,
