FALLEN | rowan whitethorn x oc

CHAPTER NINETEEN - I'll be the one to claim it

When she asked them how long they'd be staying in Morath after two weeks, they told her they would leave as soon as they finished their mission.

When she asked them about their mission, they gave her a long explanation about murdering a group of Novyk who were confirmed to have launched an attack against a nusery in the outskirts of Doranelle.

And when she asked them how they'd traced the location of the Novyk, they'd told her that Kilax had given them two gifts.

She didn't ask what the other gift had been.

So Isabella trained, she ate, she slept -when her nightmares allowed her to-, she panicked only once every few days, and laughed. It was surprising, actually, how much she was enjoying the company of the Cadre; now that the air had been cleared, and now that she had accepted the differences.

She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so much. Or talked. Because for three years, she had barely spoken a word. Not even one to others. And only some to herself, when she was sure she could not be heard, and when she knew her talking would not intervene with the strangled peace her invisibility gave her.

Therefore, she talked. And laughed. And listened. And...felt good. Better.

Fenrys took her to Benito and Isabella pretended as if that was her first time visiting. She threw compliments at everything, and Fenrys' chest was almost swollen like a bubble for puffing it out so much.

Gavriel insisted on giving her a tour of the town, and she listened to him, and all his historical facts and funny experiences he'd had at the settlement. Isabella's head had been dizzy with information, but she 'd had enjoyed it, regardless.

Some days, Lorcan silently followed her, while she did everything and anything. She didn't mind the silence, because she just enjoyed his presence. It was calming, she realized, to have such an intimidating looking male next to her, warning any threat away.

Rowan sometimes joined them in their silent walks, sometimes he was the only one by her side, sometimes they went to the forest and talked. Sometimes he merely used his magic to control a soft wind, and she enjoyed the caress of it. Even if he didn't know it.

~

Lorcan hated Morath. The females were alright, but he hated mortal towns. Because they reminded him of the mortal mother he had never met. And he hated to remember the faceless person who had given him life.

In conclusion, Lorcan hated many things.

So he settled for staying at the inn whenever he didn't feel the brotherly need to accompany Isabella in her ins and outs around the city. And that's what he did most days.

He took a sip of his beer while he eyed a pair of men who had been stealing glances his way since he'd taken his place in a table hidden mostly by the shadows of the building.

Lorcan wondered if he would have to stand and ask them to join him in his room, or if they would come to him, when Isabella's scent hit his nostrils. His face remained relaxed as, seconds later, she settled on the seat next to him. He raised an eyebrow in her direction before looking back at his possible double distraction of the day.

The sound of rustling and something being placed on the table caught his attention, and the two men slipped away from his mind as he gazed at the wrapped box in front of him.

He narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. "What's this?"

Isabella shrugged. "It's a present"

"I don't want it"