The Wolves of Wullferg Keep

Chapter IX - Behind Closed Doors

 A weight hung over the pack of Wullferg Keep for the next four days. No one spoke of it. But nearly everyone slowed down when they passed that hallway, lingering for a moment to stare at the only locked door.

Dray sought Rek out on the fourth day.

"How is she?" They were outside, taking down the washing.

"I haven't seen her today, but Caimdon was in this morning. He said she seemed... better. More talkative at least."

More talkative meant very little. She hadn't spoken a word for the first two days.

"What did she say?"

"Asked for me to bring more yarn."

"I suppose it's a good thing she's doing something." Dray unpinned a bedsheet, folding it slowly. "Do you think she'll run again?"

Rek didn't answer. His whole attention seemed to be on a hole in a pair of trousers.

"How does Fisk always manage to shred his clothing? I just mended these."

"Rek..."

Rek sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I think there's a chance she won't, but not because she's content or anything." He stopped, holding a half-folded shirt. "Do you remember the day Leng realized he could never carry out the full duties of a Redmoon priest again?"

Dray did. They all did. It had been like watching someone die.

Leng's injuries were far more severe than he'd been willing to believe, and it had taken both Kowser and a high priest to convince that he couldn't return to his full position. That had been it for Leng. All the fire went out of him.

"So," Dray's voice was too tight. "So... I broke her."

Rek gave him a sad smile. "I think we all did."

☽

The first time someone tried to talk to Emily, she threw a chair at them. She'd heard them fumbling with the doorknob and had grabbed the nearest object. In the small, barren room there hadn't been many options. The table was too heavy and there wasn't even a real bed frame.

She didn't bother finding out who it was or what they were doing before she threw the chair. But the string of curses after the impact gave Rek away. He didn't try coming in again that night. He was probably bringing food. Emily didn't quite care.

It was a long night. Emily started to think.

How long was she going to be stuck in there? Was this her new room? Was she now well and truly a prisoner? Even worse than her thoughts was the gnawing hunger that twisted up inside her. She slept at some point, but it was restless and troubled. There was no light in the room, not even a candle, and the heavy darkness pressed against her eyes every time she opened them. And with the darkness came the cold. There were blankets, but not nearly enough to keep her comfortably warm.

Faint light was peeking through the small window, high in the wall, when she heard someone at the door once more. She sat up slowly, staring at the door.

This time, Rek pushed the door open and stood to the side for a moment.

"Are you hungry enough to not attack me?"

Emily glared at him but didn't move.

Rek sighed and stepped inside. He set a tray of food on the little table and leaned up against the wall.

"I'm not leaving until you eat. I don't trust you to not starve yourself out of spite." He pulled a piece of knitting out of his pocket and started working on it, still watching Emily out of the corner of his eye.