The Puppeteer and The Poisoned Pawn (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 3)

Ruth and I sit across from each other in the dining hall, hair dripping in our laps, pruney fingers, and wearing baggy men’s clothes.

It’s as if Aurick’s mansion was repurposed for a massive dining room. Cherrywood rib vault arches and walls carved in intricate designs. There are five rectangular tables that seem miles long, decorated with silver platters of roasted pigs, steamed vegetables, and platters of freshly baked bread. It booms with the sound of laughing men and clanking silverware.

“People are staring,” Ruth comments, taking a small bite of a strawberry.

“That’s because there aren’t any women here. They’re probably thinking of ways to get you and Sky—”

“Would you like me to tell Dessin how that sentence was going to end?” Warrose glares at Niles, digging his fork into a pile of broccoli.

“Eat your food, kid.” Chekiss sits down with his plate, giving me a shy smile.

I turn my attention back to Ruth, watching her shove food to one side, picking apart a piece of fruit until it’s small enough to be guilt-free. My stomach twists. Is this how I looked back with the Stormsages? Brainwashed?

And even worse, I can’t do for her what Asena did for me. I can’t tell her that eating until she’s full is acceptable. Because we aren’t in the North Saphrine Forest anymore. We’re in the heart of Demechnef. The source from which these ridiculous societal standards came.

But as I attempt to turn away and focus on Niles and Chekiss bickering, I catch Warrose studying how Ruth moves her food around. He nudges her with his elbow.

“Eat,” he says in a hushed tone, like he’s making a solid effort not to bring attention to the way she’s moving her food around.

She raises an eyebrow. “I am.”

“No, you’re playing with your food.” His tone softens. It’s in the slight crease of his brow that he’s trying to be patient with the standards she was raised with. However wrong they might be.

“No, I’m portioning my food like a lady.”

His lids fall closed like he’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“My dear queen, if you do not eat, you’ll faint. If you faint, I’ll have to peel your slippery body off the floor and carry you back to our room. Don’t make me do that. I’m tired.” He swallows, then leans closer. “Please. I’m just trying to help.”

Ruth turns to him with a condescending smile. “You’re not a woman, so let me explain how this works. I may get away with sneaking a snack or two when I’m alone. But when I’m in public, I have to eat this way. If I don’t, someone will say something. Someone might even throw me into the female ward of the asylum.”

“If anyone—”

“May we sit?”

Two men stand to my right, hovering with one hand on my shoulder and mocking smiles. My stomach does a flip, and my fingers twitch to yank the hand from its tight grip on my skin.

They look like brothers. Dark-brown skin, hair braided close to their scalps, and maroon vests with gold tassels.

Soldiers.

“You may not,” Warrose says calmly, yet his hazel eyes stew in severe irritation.

“Come on, War! You vanish without a word, and now you don’t introduce us to the pretty ladies?” A quick squeeze of my shoulder.

“Remove your hand.” His tone isn’t loud, yet it’s dripping in slow death. Warrose keeps his eyes on the place my shoulder is being covered.

“You’re no fun any—”

Warrose is nearly as fast as Dessin. It’s a swift movement, like the closing of a Venus flytrap. His hand unsheathes a machete on his, and with one flick of his massive arm, he barrels it down to chop off the hand that is gripping me. Only a centimeter before he makes a clean slice, he stops. The wide blade hovering a hair’s length over the man’s wrist.

“Off,” he growls, holding his attacking arm perfectly still, then follows the other man’s gaze to Ruth. “She isn’t a painting on display. Eyes off her too. If I catch you looking again, I’ll carve them out with this rusted machete.”

Well. He certainly is Dessin’s friend, isn’t he?

“Jesus! Relax.” The hand unclamps from my shoulder. The two men grumble about Warrose losing his mind before they leave the dining hall.

Ruth gets my attention with her rising eyebrows and pursed lips. “Wow,” she mouths. “I know,” I mouth back.

We both look away before we start laughing at the other’s expression, and it isn’t hard to wipe away the dopey smile on my face as Dessin enters the dining hall. The volume of the room lowers, loud voices morphing into hushed whispers, heads turning to watch him move, watch him claim every bit of dominant energy in the room.

I swallow down my bite of ham and look away as he gets closer. I see Warrose nod to him from the corner of my eye. Suddenly, my appetite vanishes, replaced with a sour churning of nausea. I stay perfectly still as Dessin lowers himself to the seat next to me. My eyes focus so hard on the meal they begin to burn.

“What’s the plan? We ride at dawn to save the furry grim reaper?” Warrose slides a glass of water to Dessin’s place setting.

“No.” Despite my anger, his deep voice sinks between my legs. “Scouts reported that they’re on the shoreline. They lined a few miles of Hangman’s Valley with traps to catch us or kill us. It’s going to be a couple of days until I can map it out and figure out how I can get through it.”

“How we can get through it,” Warrose clarifies.

“No. I can do this on my own.”

“Hangman’s Valley is the forest of every deadly species of beast there is. That’s my specialty. And you don’t have DaiSzek to help this time. I’m going with you, brother.” DaiSzek. His name burns a hole through my heart.

“I’m going too,” I announce quietly.

“No,” Dessin responds without looking at me. “You’ll stay here until we get back.”

“Like fucking hell!” I whip my head to him, bones shivering under my skin with a cold, silent rage. My boy is out there, and God knows what the Vexamen Breed is doing to him. I won’t sit back any longer like a helpless doll. I want to fight. I want to be strong too.

The table stiffens, shoulders back, trying not to look at us as Dessin and I stare each other down. His face is unreadable, yet his dark-mahogany eyes flicker, like something buried deep in his subconscious is trying to claw its way out.

“I’ll train! I’ll strengthen my body. I’ll do whatever you want. But I won’t sit here and wait. You’ll have to chain me up and knock me out.” My voice is trembling along with my hands, breaking into thin shards of glass, announcing that at any given moment, I might burst into tears.

Dessin doesn’t say a word. He lets his eyes fall closed, taking a shallow, uneven breath.

“Dessin… you know how the Vexamen breed treats their animals. We don’t have time to argue. We just have to get him back.” Warrose’s jaw sets as if the knowledge behind his words has turned his stomach.

“What do they do to their animals?” I ask him, unsure if I want to know. But I need to hear it. Turning a blind eye won’t help anyone.

Warrose opens his mouth to speak, but Dessin holds up a hand. “Don’t you fucking dare.” His face says it all. It tells us that he’s teetering over the edge. That at any moment, he’ll combust, burst into a fiery vehemence. The pressure on his shoulders is a sharp dagger to his heart. Despite my pain, I want to hold him, tell him that we’ll be okay, tell him that it’s not his fault. But I can’t. I still cannot get past how much he’s hurt me with his omission of truth.

The table sits in uncomfortable silence for several minutes before Dessin finally speaks again.

“You’ll keep training until we’re ready to leave. Then we’ll free DaiSzek together.”

I sneak into Warrose and Ruth’s room, twisting the crystal knob quietly, and slipping inside without making a sound. The only light splashing across the glossy wooden walls is from the fireplace. Ruth is sitting on the carpet, flat on her tummy, reading. Warrose is two steps out of the washroom, running a towel through his long, wet hair.

He looks at me with an eyebrow raised. Without a shirt, he’s covered in raised tattoos. Gray-and-black markings, like a calligraphy pen drawn over his muscles in a foreign language. He tightens the towel around his hips.

“I have a question,” I ask him, closing the door behind me.

“Okay.” He finishes wringing his hair out. Pauses. “Can I put pants on first?”

“That would be best.”

He disappears into the washroom, and Ruth peeks at me over her book.

“He wouldn’t let me do my lady-doll regimen,” she whispers.

“That’s probably best too.”

“No, it’s not. I feel all dry and lifeless without it.” She folds a page over to mark her place. “Remember how much we enjoyed taking our baths together? Sneaking Aurick’s food and wine?”

His name is a sword puncturing through my chest, snapping my bones, and filling my lungs with blood. Too many emotions jolt through me. I could cry, scream, throw a tantrum, or sit emptily in silence. I don’t know which to feel.

“It’s a disgusting rule to control women.” Warrose bristles past me, wearing black-as-night pants and no shirt. I look over at Ruth, who is gawking at his arms.

I sit on the twin bed next to his. “What were you talking about when you said the Vexamen Breed doesn’t treat their animals well? How do they treat them?”

He shakes his head quickly, warding off the question. “Dessin was right. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Well, you did. Now tell me. I deserve to know.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Tell her, coward!” Ruth is sitting up now, looking rather adorable in her white nightgown and furrowed brow.

“Coward?” Warrose cocks his head to her. “So now I’m cowardly?”

My mind buzzes with the fear of the unknown. How will DaiSzek be treated? Would it hurt me to know? Would it only make me feel more powerless?

“Yes. You’re too chicken to do something Dessin won’t like. That makes you a chicken coward.”

“I am not.” Warrose looks both amused and annoyed as he gazes down at Ruth like she’s a pest he can’t get rid of. “And wow, you’re really gearing up with your insults. Chicken coward.”

“Prove it. Tell her.”

I sit up straight. “I can take it.”

Warrose exhales loudly. “Fine, but you have to swear you won’t go crying to him once I tell you.”

I nod once.

“Vexamen isn’t exactly the most civilized place. They do things very differently. Their culture. Their military. Their laws. It would turn your stomach to hear the stories I could share.” He rubs a large hand through his wet hair. “But specifically, they have something called a meat carnival.”

I really don’t like the sound of that.

“A meat carnival is where butchers bring the beasts they find and torture them in front of a crowd as a form of entertainment. They—well, I’ll spare you the gruesome details. But it isn’t pretty.”

“They—what?!” My voice is a choked, quivering mess.

“Oh my god!” Ruth drops her book to the floor, crawling to my side. “Oh, Skylenna!”

But I can’t breathe. Is it warm in here? My feet are clenched in my boots, and I can feel the pressure of my dinner rising in my esophagus. Not my DaiSzek. Not my boy!

“We’re going to get him back,” Warrose says.

I shake my head, although I have nothing to say. They can’t hurt DaiSzek. He’s a monster. A legend. A force stronger than anything they can throw at him.

But what if they keep him drugged? What if he can’t fight back when they bring him to this meat carnival?

I’m on my feet, walking absently to the door. My name is called. Footsteps shuffle toward me. The pain in my chest is crippling. The fear of losing my friend, the betrayal of Dessin and his secrets, the new knowledge that Aurick was using me. It’s biting into my flesh, sucking out my soul.

“I need to process this alone,” I say to them, opening the door to leave.

The last thing I hear is Warrose speaking to Ruth. “You’ll attend my funeral, won’t you?”

I open the door to my room. Step inside mechanically, like my joints are rusted and old, like I’m moments away from falling to pieces.

Dessin is sitting on an armchair by the fire. Elbows on knees, head in hands. He’s having a hard time too. He knows what’s at stake. He knows what could happen to our boy.

“I can’t figure it out.” My words float from my lips to the warm air like a new butterfly taking flight. And for a moment, you can’t tell how heavy they are.

Dessin turns his head, finding me standing in front of the door with his tired eyes. So sad. So defeated.

“I can’t decide on what to feel right now. Hatred for you and your lies. Mind-blowing fury that you left me under his roof, even after he hit me. And you let me find out in the most humiliating way.” I take a sharp breath in, and he watches me with a stoic, guarded expression.

“Or…” My throat clamps up, forming a thick lump that I can’t swallow. “Terror. Because I don’t know what’s going to happen. I didn’t know how Vexamen treat their animals. I didn’t know about the meat carnivals. I didn’t know—” I suck in a stuttering breath, hot tears pooling over my eyes. “I might lose him forever!” The cry breaks through my walls, shattering my heart in its wake. My arm reaches out to the doorknob, a lifeline to keep me on my feet.

Dessin is up from his seat in a blink of an eye, and he’s at my side, hands hovering around me because he knows he doesn’t have permission to comfort me.

“I can’t lose him, Dessin!” I sob hysterically like I can’t find the oxygen in the room, like I’ll choke to death on my own grief. “We’ve lost so much already. He’s the only family we have!”

“I’m sorry, Skylenna—I’m so fucking sorry. Please let me comfort you,” he says with a strained tone, breathing heavily against my face. I nod my head through the breakdown, unable to see him react through my tears, but I feel it as soon as his big hands slide around either side of my face. Holding me like I might shatter into tiny pieces at his feet. The fragile doll he fears might stop working.

“I’m going to save Dai. He knows that. And you know I’d give my life to protect the ones I love.” He’s the image of heartache and the devil’s wrath. A man bleeding on the inside. An apocalyptic storm that is only briefly contained. “I will become hell on earth to bring him home to you. Please believe me.”

“I believe you,” I mutter despite his lies. Despite the betrayal I still feel deep in my bones. If there’s one thing I’ll believe at a time like this, it’s that Dessin can do anything he sets his mind to.

“They haven’t left the Dementia shoreline. He won’t get sent to the meat carnival until they believe they’ve lured me out, trapped me, and taken me with them. But I’m mapping it out. You know I never enter a situation without being ten steps ahead.”

“I know,” I say. It’s one of the many things I love about this man.

Dessin leans his forehead against mine like he’s resting, using me to hold him up. His eyes close. “You named him.”

I sniffle, unsure if I heard him right. “What?”

“You’re the one that named DaiSzek when he was a puppy. DaiSzek was a warrior king in one of your favorite books Jack used to read you. The story of the fae king DaiSzek, and his elven queen Knightingale that gave their lives to end a great war thousands of years ago.” Dessin studies my wet, sobbing expression as he’s waiting for me to remember.

I shake my head. “I don’t remember that.”

“I know.” He smiles sadly.

“I knew DaiSzek as a puppy?”

He nods.

That both warms and breaks my heart at the same time. I release my hold on his strong arms. “I suppose you aren’t going to tell me more than that.”

He sighs, releasing his hold on my face. “I didn’t tell you about Aurick because it opens up many questions I can’t answer.”

I blink away the tears, wiping the stragglers away with my sleeve. It comes back in a devastating wave, the sickening punch in the gut as I saw Aurick Demechnef walk into that room. As I watched Dessin wait for my reaction. I hate feeling this way.

“I see.” My feet begin moving to the washroom. “I’m going to take a bath. Please don’t wait up for me.”

After closing the washroom door, I twist the faucet to gush scalding hot water. Steam fills the small room, fogging up the mirror and moistening my skin before I can step inside the large copper tub.

The lady-doll regimen supplies are set out on the vanity. Jars of lavender cream, a pitcher of milk, a bowl and spool of honey, glass servings of dried herbs, and salts. I’m a moving zombie as I fill the tub with everything I’ve grown familiar with. Like I’m still under Aurick’s roof, because I am. His property. Indebted to his hospitality. Maybe I am weak and helpless. That’s why Dessin never tells me anything. That’s why I need the assistance of a man to get me a job at the asylum, to feed and clothe me.

I lather my dirty hair in oil, digging it into my scalp until my fingers are sore. And as I pick one leg up, placing it into the hot bath, I watch more tears fall into the milky, sweet-scented water.

I’ll pull myself together. I won’t let them see how this has ripped my heart out. I’ll clean myself up, scrub the dirt and devastation from my skin, and wash away the stained trail of tears from my puffy eyes and cheeks.

I’ll be better.

I’ll be stronger.

If not for myself, then for DaiSzek. The friend I’ve apparently known since he was a pup. Sinking into the cozy tub, I dunk my head in, wetting my hair.

I’ll be better.

I’ll be stronger.

As I turn off the faucet with my foot, I close my eyes, resting my head against the edge of the tub, chanting the words in my head. Better. Stronger. I don’t care how long I have to train. I don’t care if they abuse me, strip me of my humanity, or work my body into the ground. I have to be stronger. Have to be better.

And I float away in the water, sinking into a dreamless sleep.

I’m yanked from the darkness, dragged from silent peace. Water rushes over my face, and I gasp at the sudden cold burst of air.

“There you are.” A deep voice booms over the rushing water. Hands grip my arms, pulling until I’m propped upright in the tub. “Breathe, little siren.” An accent, ancient and foreign. Close to what the Stormsages sounded like.

I cough at the water in my nose draining down my throat.

“What happened?”

“You fell asleep in the tub,” the man says, voice smooth like a warm ocean breeze.

I squeeze my eyes closed, wiping them of the milky water.

When I open them, I see Dessin kneeling to my left, hands still on my arms. But the expression is blank with a small splash of curiosity. He looks down at me like I’m a small, interesting human…

“Who are you?” I ask.

The alter lets go of my arms, letting them rest on the tub’s edge. “We met once in the asylum.”

“We did?”

“When we were drowned.” He tilts his head, waiting for me to recognize him.

“Aquarus,” I say, quickly covering my breasts. God of the sea.

“Yes.”

I glance at the water that spilled onto the marble floor. “You thought I was drowning.”

He stares at me, hickory-brown eyes holding worlds of wisdom.

“That’s why you’re here.”

“This body has been under severe stress. It hasn’t been sleeping. And it’s disturbing the other alters.” Aquarus looks away, thinking out loud. “It seems you’re experiencing similar pain.”

Our situation has made it hard for his system to function. His world of alters. They’re all affected by what we’re going through on the outside.

I nod. “It’s been hard.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry you don’t get to surface on better circumstances,” I say.

Aquarus lifts his chin. “I don’t mind it.” Accent rugged and northern.

I feel like an insect under a magnifying glass. The way he looks down at me, examining my mouth, my bare body. Like he’s never been this close to a naked woman before.

“You are rather beautiful.” He sighs, looking as if he might smile. Just a little.

“And what do you look like? In the inner world? How old are you?”

His chest rumbles with a closed-mouth laugh. “I’m three hundred thousand years old. I’m six foot eight, with long golden hair like yours.” He twirls a finger through one of my wet strands with a smile. “I believe Kane read a book about me when he was young. That’s why I split with this identity. Because I am Aquarus, the god of the sea, and I am not afraid of water or drowning.”

Every time I learn something new, it stings in my chest. Kane remembered a fictional character that felt invincible.

“We call them introjects. Fictive alters,” he adds.

“And what do you do in the inner world?”

“They don’t see very much of me. I stay in the ocean until I’m summoned to the front. Like I was today… with you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Aquarus studies me a moment longer, glancing down at the milk water and the floating dried leaves and lavender. “Dessin was worried because you’ve been in here for so long.”

“I—I thought this bath would relieve my anxiety.” My heartache. My churning stomach of toxic lies that I’ve been swallowing. My fear of what is happening to DaiSzek.

“But you’re still in pain.”

I nod.

“Would you like my company or prefer to suffer alone?” He shifts his large body toward the door.

My eyes roam over his face. “I’d like you to stay.” Time alone has always made my mind race with bad memories. And since there are a lot of those lately, I’ll take his company gladly.

Aquarus acknowledges my words with his eyes. A slight glint of an idea. He grips the edge of the tub and pushes himself to his feet. “Wait here.”

Moments later, he slips back into the washroom with a full glass bottle of brown liquid and a tray of steaming bread. A smirk warms my cheeks. This reminds me of my days in the thirteenth room with Dessin, minus the alcohol. Or that night, Ruth and I stayed up talking, drinking wine, and eating Aurick’s food.

Fully clothed, Aquarus steps into the copper tub with me, lowering himself into the hot water across from my end. He’s lucky this is an abnormally large bathtub; otherwise, he’d never fit.

“Have you ever had bourbon?” he asks, angling the tray to sit by itself across the tub.

“I don’t think so.” But there’s no time like the present!

“Good.” He reaches his hand over to me. “Eat this before we start.” A chunk of hot sourdough bread with a clump of butter on top.

“Mmm,” I hum, taking a large bite.

He takes a long seven gulps of the bottle, then sets it on the tray with a sigh. I watch his movements like a child looking at the sky for the first time. His expression is relaxed yet subtly amused by my presence. It’s like he’s patiently awaiting what I’ll say or do next. Like I’m a rare species that he gets to observe for the day. But it’s also the way his elbows hang over the edge, the way he blinks slowly. Aquarus doesn’t believe he is human. No, his body language screams deity. It blasts an energy of almightiness. A carelessness for any threat that might linger. Because, currently, he’s a king sitting on a throne, studying me.

“What is it like?” he finally asks, unblinking.

I arch an eyebrow at him. My mouth is full. So full. Stuffed with buttery, warm, breaded goodness.

“Living in this contradicting world of rules and death and male superiority complexes,” he clarifies.

I chew faster so I can answer. “Good. Fine. I mean, I often wish to be caught under an avalanche or accidentally trampled by a stampede. But other than that, pretty swell.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up. It’s the only cue that he has a sense of humor.

“I’d take you back with me if I could.”

“To the inner world?”

Aquarus moves his head down a centimeter as an answer.

“You’d let me come live with you?” I ask with a tickle of warmth spreading across my chest.

“I am isolated there mostly. But I would enjoy your company in the sea.”

I try not to smile. “I could live on a boat.”

“You do have the hair of a siren.”

My father did always say I had mermaid waves in my hair.

With one finger, he pushes the bottle of bourbon my way. I finish another piece of bread, then bring the bottle to my lips. I take two big gulps, then hiss at the burn clawing its way down my throat.

“Yummy,” I lie.

“You’ll get used to it.” He takes the bottle back, sipping it this time.

I watch the milky water saturating his shirt, glancing over the part of his chest that isn’t covered. “Do you like fronting? Being in this world?”

“Not particularly. The only times I do are when sadistic little humans are trying to drown me.” He looks away, blinking slowly, like even mentioning them isn’t worth his breath.

“So, finding me asleep in the bathtub was a better alternative?”

His dark, dilated eyes slide back to me slowly. “It was.”

I smile, taking another swig from the bottle.

We talk about his version of the inner world. How he rarely sees any of the other alters, if ever. Although, there was that one time he saw Greystone enthusiastically waving at him from the shoreline. Besides that, he’s spent much time alone, listening to the ocean’s waves, feeling the cool water seep into his skin. He has no memories of loving anyone or being loved at all.

“Dessin’s going to be mad at you for getting me drink,” I say, my face warm and numb. “Drunk, I mean.”

Aquarus seems to smile with his eyes. “He isn’t mad. But I am rather annoyed with the constant heaviness of guilt and stress pouring off of him and close to me at the moment.”

“You can feel him?”

“Whoever is hosting can feel any alters that linger close to the front.”

That makes sense.

“Well, thanks for getting me drunk. It helps.” Hell, he’s so good-looking. I don’t know why I’ve been so mad. Why hasn’t he tried to kiss me? Do I want him to? I like getting to know him, but wow, he’s beautiful. And he carries himself with so much power and grace.

I really want to touch his mouth.

“You’re staring.”

“Am not.” And drooling.

“Is it strange for you? To speak to different people in one body?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. I know it should be. But I like it. It’s an adventure getting to know everyone.” I smile lazily, relaxing deeper into the water and attempting footsie with him.

“You’re touching my foot.”

“I know. Touch mine back.”

“Why?”

“Err. It’s a way of flirting.”

“You’re flirting with me?”

I deadpan. “Careful. I’m in a fragile state. If you reject me, I might burst into tears.”

This time, the corner of Aquarus’s mouth curls upward. A smile! “Yes! I knew you had a smile waiting to come out!”

“You can’t flirt with me when you’re this… naked.”

“And wet.”

His smile, or attempt at a smile, slips away. Those large pupils seem to dilate even more. A calloused hand finds my foot, stroking it underwater.

“Mmm,” I sigh, heat pooling between my legs.

“I’d like to see you again, little siren. Maybe when you’re of sound mind, I can do more than flirt with your foot.”

“I am of sound mind.” Ish.

But his focus disappears. And I know he’s going back to the sea. There’s the sound of a trickling waterfall as he steps out of the bathtub. But I stay put, wrapping my arms around my knees against my chest, trembling at the sudden cool draft kissing my naked body.

“Skylenna.” The accent is gone. It’s replaced with a familiar warmth. Like reading your favorite childhood storybook. Like smelling chocolate and being taken back to a sweet winter memory.

Kane.

I look up from where my head rests on my knees. He’s standing by the vanity with a towel around his waist, and holding one out for me, the way he did when I bathed in the lagoon. I’m not sure why he’s come to the front. If there was a trigger, I’m not aware of it.

My stomach clenches and rolls, but I step out of the tub, holding my hands over my breasts and panty line. With water streaming down my body, I walk to him with quivering legs from the alcohol buzzing through my veins.

I didn’t want him to leave. It’s as if he popped the bubble I was safely in. Now, I’m back in the real world. My eyes burn, and my heart twists.

I hope the water pouring from my hair will disguise the tears in my eyes. But one look at Kane wrapping me in the large fluffy towel, and I know he sees me falling apart.

“I can’t talk to you,” I say, holding back my leashed anguish.

“I know, honey.”

But he guides me to bed, helps me into my nightgown, tucks me under the blankets, and keeps one hand on my back while I silently cry myself to sleep.