Roland watched him go then gave me a crooked smile. “So, you and Nikolas?”
“I . . . it’s complicated,” I said even though I knew that wasn’t true anymore. Watching Nikolas walk away, my aching heart swelled with emotion I could not put into words.
“Took him long enough,” Roland quipped, and he and Peter exchanged knowing looks.
I glanced from one to the other. “What do you mean?”
Roland’s breath released a thick cloud of steam in the frigid air. “Sara, no one takes their job that seriously.”
I let his statement sink in. “Why didn’t you say something to me?”
“And make it easy for demon boy? Where’s the fun in that?”
I was too surprised by his revelation to scold him for the “demon boy” remark. Was I the only person who hadn’t seen something between me and Nikolas?
Roland put an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go inside so we can thaw out. Is it always this bloody cold here?”
“It gets this cold in Maine.”
“Yeah, but not in November. If I’d known it was like this, I would have brought a heavy coat.”
I laughed through my tears as we walked toward the main entrance. “Roland, you’re a werewolf. How can you be cold?”
He let out a snort. “Do you see any fur? I’m freezing my butt off right now.”
The main hall felt like an oven after being outside so long, and I didn’t realize how cold I was until I stepped inside. A few people stared at us when they passed, and at first I thought it was because of Nate, until I remembered that the Mohiri and werewolves didn’t exactly care for each other. My friends were probably the first werewolves to ever walk through these doors.
“Are you guys hungry? Lunch is over, but I can get us something to eat.” If there was one thing I knew about werewolves, it was that they were always hungry.
“I wouldn’t turn down some food,” Peter said. “But only if you eat, too.”
We entered the dining hall where a few stragglers from lunch watched Roland and Peter with open curiosity. Ignoring them, I went to the door that led to the kitchen to see what I could scrounge up. The kitchen staff must have heard about Nate because they gave me sympathetic looks and told me they would fix something for us. Ten minutes later, two of them carried out three heaping plates of food and set them in front of us before they went back to get us something to drink.
Roland stared at his plate of steak and mashed potatoes. “This is what you have for lunch?”
“Sometimes.” I scooped up some of my potatoes. “They have everything here.”
He put a piece of steak in his mouth and made a moaning sound. “Oh man, this is amazing. If I’d known you were eating like this, I would have come to visit sooner.” His eyes widened as he remembered the reason he was here. “Ah hell, Sara, I didn’t mean – ”
“I know you didn’t.” I smiled despite the ache in my chest. Grief is not a fleeting emotion. This pain would be inside me for a long time, and all I could do was learn to live with it and hope that, someday, I’d be able to breathe again without hurting.
We talked mostly about the people we knew back home for the rest of the meal. After our late lunch, I took them up to my room where we could be alone. Roland and I sat on the bed with pillows piled behind us like we used to do at his house. Peter stretched across the foot of the bed with his head propped up on his hand, looking like he didn’t know what to say next.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Roland asked quietly.
“I don’t know how.” How could I begin to describe how it felt to see Nate standing there as a monster? How it felt when he told me the Master had done this to him because of me?
It took me a while to get the story out. Roland and Peter listened without interrupting while I told them about Nate’s phone call a few days ago and how he had arrived last night. Roland’s hand covered mine while I relived every horrific detail, and I knew I couldn’t get through this without him and Peter.
We spent the afternoon remembering our childhood and sharing memories of Nate. I cried a few times, but I drew strength from their presence and our shared history. Late that afternoon, Tristan came to see me, looking like a man who carried the world on his shoulders. I introduced him to my friends and he graciously welcomed them. He told us he’d given Roland the room across from me and Peter’s was down the hall so they would be close to me. Tristan told them they were welcome to stay as long as they wanted. Then he pulled me aside to ask how I was doing.
“I’m okay I guess. How – how is he?”