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I bet Theo would love them.
Well fuck. There it is. Considering I’m a good ten years older than him, he may not have read them. Huffing a sigh, I slide the book back on the shelf along with the others and turn to walk through the narrow, rickety shelves right out of the shops.
But something stops me.
That fuckingfae-tuitionhas got me again. I need the books. Theo needs the books.
My head hangs heavy as I turn back and pull the books off the shelves, stacking them in my arms. Paying for them is relatively painless, the crotchety old store owner only sniffs in general disdain for my book choice before giving me my receipt.
I place them carefully in an old lettuce box in the passenger footwell of the truck. That intuition now satisfied, the drive home is a breeze. But by the time I make it back, self doubt has gnawed away at my decision. It feels like overstepping again.
And so, after unpacking the rest of the truck, I leave the books where they are. Safe.
***
He’s at the window again. He definitely can’t see me. I know because I’ve seen him every night for the past few evenings. Like a ghost haunting my tavern, he gets up when it's quiet, and everyone is asleep.
Everyone but me.
It was late the first time that I saw him. I had been on the close shift, and on my way back to my house.
The little one behind the tavern.
If I ended up restructuring the roster to have me closing every night since, well, that is just because I’m a good boss.
Back lit by the lamps in his room, his silhouette wanders back and forth, before he settles in front of the window. He’s cracked it open, just a little, to let in the breeze. It shouldn’t make me pleased to see him up and moving, but it does. Logically I know he has been. Seldon always reports back - only somewhat sarcastically - that the food’s been eaten, and the bathroom’s been used. Even the Godsawful tea Edith has been stinking up the Black Stump with for him is being drunk.
I swear, I can still smell the putrid brew in the night air, mixed with the smell of the Woods and the dying weeds mouldering in the overrun kitchen gardens.
I don’t know how long I stand there, watching him stare out at the night sky. Probably far too long, considering the exhaustion in my body. But eventually he gets up and shuts the window. When the curtains draw close, I finally move. My feet are aching and my back is screaming with tension on the short walk to my house. It was the staff quarters or maybe even just storage with how small it is, before it was converted to a small house. The family,myfamily, lived in the big house next to it. It’s dark and empty now.
On the way home I pass my truck, parked off to the edge of the property. The books are still there on the front seat. I must be more tired than I realise because I can almost feel them calling me a coward for not handing them over.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll do it.
Decision made, I head home at last for a much needed rest.
***
I did not, in fact, take the books to Theo the following day. Theo, Caelan, Seff,andEdith had all made appearances throughout the day and so I’d thought it best to not to interrupt their time together.
But they haven’t visited today. Well, Edith has, but she’s downstairs engrossed in a game of poker. I’d warned Mauvy tonotlet them turn it into another round of strip poker, but she hadn’t exactly given me confidence in her agreement. Rather the opposite actually.
At least, when I liberated Theo’s dinner tray from her hands, Edith's antics distracted her from theothertype of looks she’s been giving me. The one where her eyebrow arches, and her lips purse in a kind of smile and a little wrinkle forms around her eyes.
She gets it whenever I mention Theo. Which is a lot more than I realise considering how often I get the look from her. I don’t know which is worse; theTheo Lookor theConcerned Look.
My hands are heavy as I knock on the door. Despite it beingmytavern, I am nervous about going into the room.
He doesn’t respond to the knock, but Seldon had let me know that’s normal. In fact, more often than not, he’s been huddled in his pile of blankets fast asleep. So, juggling the tray laden with Mauvy’s cooking and the books, I pull out my master key and let myself in, not at all prepared for what’s on the other side.
The first thing that hits me is the smell. Just a wall of musty depression smacking me in the face like a wet towel.
“Hello? Theo? I have your dinner.” On my first glance around the room, I can’t spot him. Maybe he’s in the bathroom? But no, I realise, setting the tray down on the small table. He is, in fact, hiding amongst the big nest of blankets in the middle of the bed. I wouldn’t have spotted him if not for an errant copper curl peeking out of the navy and green quilt cover.
“I’ll just put it here, shall I?” It feels strange, talking to a lump of blankets, but I can feel his eyes on me. The same feral pull towards Theo, the one that has been tormenting me since the day I found him on Marieth’s table, ready to be sacrificed, harangues me to stay. To just spend one more minute in his company.
Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, I scratch at the base of my horn and survey the room. The innkeeper in me is glad that he has at least kept his mess confined to the bed. The room is otherwise almost completely undisturbed. But those sheetsreallyneed changing. So far no one has managed to coax him out of bed long enough to get the job done.
