He wanted to get up, to pace. That might disturb Natividad. He did not want to wake her. They had pushed her too hard today, too hard for many days before this one. She was tired – she was exhausted still with grief, though she would never admit it, and then Alejandro had pushed her to keep up with the killing pace a black dog did not even feel. Miguel could keep up, more or less, for a while. But Natividad?
He wanted to break the chairs, tear the blankets, hurl himself at the bars of the cell. He did not move, except to stare restlessly up the stairs.
How long could it take, for Grayson Lanning to question Miguel? It seemed a very long time, but was probably not even an hour, before the stairway door clicked open. Alejandro was on his feet at once, all his muscles tight. He saw Ezekiel first, and for a moment no one else. His breath caught.
But then Miguel came down the stairs after Ezekiel, and Harrison Lanning behind him. Harrison was carrying a platter. There was the smell of fresh bread and grilled venison.
There were two platters, in fact: one for the meat, and the other for the bread and a wedge of soft cheese and a crock of fruit preserves that smelled of sugar and lingering summer. Harrison carried one of the platters, but Miguel himself carried the other. As before, Ezekiel unlocked the cage door and gestured for Miguel to enter. Miguel moved easily – he did not seem to have been harmed at all. But as he stepped past Ezekiel to enter the cell, as Ezekiel shifted his weight, he flinched, just perceptively.
Someone else might have missed that little encojo. But to Alejandro, his brother might as well have cowered like a beaten child. Miguel never cringed from anyone. He had never been beaten or abused – he had always had his father and brother to protect him. Until tonight. Alejandro set himself against a sudden savage desire to challenge Ezekiel right there, an effort of will that might have failed except that he was himself afraid of the Dimilioc verdugo. Besides, Harrison was there also. Alejandro set his teeth hard and stayed where he was, by the cot. But he could not stop himself glowering at Ezekiel.
Ezekiel, smiling, met his furious stare with a look of cool mockery. “Well?”
Miguel, perfectly well aware of Alejandro’s rising fury, said quickly, “I’m alright. I’m fine.” And then, more forcefully, “De verdad, estoy bien!”
Alejandro made himself lower his gaze. “Yes,” he said grimly, in English.
But the anger and danger in the room was so palpable that Natividad opened her eyes and sat up, flinging off her blankets with a sharp, terrified movement that recalled the dangerous life they had all led for the past year.
Alejandro shuddered with the effort to put his shadow down. He took a step backward, put an arm around his sister, and tucked her against his side. “Estas bien,” he said, then, wary of Ezekiel and even of Harrison, switched to English. “You see: we are all well.”
Ezekiel tilted his head to one side, but did not contradict this piece of optimism. Harrison grinned outright. “That’s right, boy,” he said. His voice was deep and harsh, but not actually unkind. He stepped forward to bring them the platter he held, brushing past Ezekiel with a careless lack of concern that Alejandro could not help but read as riesgoso – risky. But the young verdugo only stepped aside, not seeming to resent the familiarity.
Natividad shivered, caught her breath, stared from one of the Dimilioc wolves to the other – then sighed in exasperation and straightened. Although she did not move away from Alejandro, her heartbeat steadied and her breathing slowed. As she calmed, the level of aggression and anger in the room settled as well.
Harrison Lanning rolled his shoulders, stretched, and grimaced – not a smile, but not an unfriendly expression. He said to Natividad, “You, we need.” Then he said to Alejandro, “You and your brother, we’ll talk about that. But you’re safe tonight.”
Alejandro made himself bow his head. “Sir.”
“So respectful,” murmured Ezekiel, but there was less of an edge to even his mockery. He gestured Harrison out of the cell with a minimal jerk of his head – it might have been a command, or not, and Alejandro realized that part of his black dog’s uneasiness was due to uncertainty about the relative ranking of the Dimilioc wolves. Black dogs wanted – needed – to know who was stronger and who must give way; it created a constant uneasiness to have matters of rank unresolved or unclear. Harrison was so much older – but Ezekiel was the Dimilioc executioner, and unquestionably more dangerous one-on-one. Alejandro’s black dog could not tell which of them was more dominant and did not like the uncertainty.
Harrison moved back a step so that Ezekiel could swing the cell door shut, but even then Alejandro could not tell whether he was watching a weaker black wolf respond to the command of a stronger, or whether he was simply seeing one man disregard matters of rank and age to cooperate with the suggestion of another.