Finally, I ask the question that's been burning from the moment I found out I would be coming here. "Who… who is Warlord now?" I need to know who took my husband’s position.
This time, though, Wolfe doesn't answer. He maneuvers the vehicle through the city, driving it into the underground garage beneath what used to be the palace. I get a quick glimpse of the tall building before we drive into the underground. I'm blinded by darkness for a moment until my eyes can adjust. By the time I'm ready, Wolfe has parked the vehicle.
We get out and I join him as he strides toward the stairs leading up. I'm reminded of the effort it takes to climb the stairs as we go up and up and up at a dizzying pace. Wolfe is clearly in top physical condition, not that he ever wasn't. The man's body is made out of rock, probably the same rock as his heart.
I'm huffing and puffing by the time we arrive at our destination: the Warlord’s throne room.
As we enter, I see that not much has changed and a stab of pain takes my breath away as I picture Silas in his role as Warlord, sitting in his big ornate chair on a dais, elevated above the rest of the room. Now, of course, it’s empty of his frail dying body.
I'm about to insist once more that Wolfe tell me who the new Warlord is. I have my suspicions, but I want him to confirm. Before I can ask, though, several soldiers come through the door, lining up next to Wolfe. In unison, they bow their heads, a habit left over from Silas's days. He loved his pomp and ceremony. These men must've belonged to him. Must've somehow survived the attack.
"Warlord," one of them begins. "We’re situating your guests."
"Good," Wolfe acknowledges. "Leave us now."
Without another word the soldiers file out, their eyes anywhere but on me. The averted gaze of the soldiers is reminiscent of my time in the harem. They weren’t allowed to look directly at me or any of the harem women. Only Wolfe had repeatedly broken that rule, looking at me often. The Warlord hadn’t cared though; he believed that Wolfe’s coldness toward me indicated his lack of interest. I’d believed the same thing.
I have trouble keeping the edge of bitterness from my voice. "Warlord Wolfe. It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
He says nothing, but his one-eyed stare says it all.
Nine
"So you're the new Warlord of the Santa Fe Sanctuary." Scorn drips from my words.
Wolfe would make a good Warlord; he's a good choice for securing a city that has fallen to the Primitives. He’s strong, decisive and brutally efficient. But there's something about him, about the situation, that angers me. He’s stepping into the role that belonged to my husband, and I hate the reminder of how much my life has changed.
Wolfe shrugs. "Temporarily."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand.
Before Wolfe can answer, if he was going to answer, we’re interrupted by an approaching woman. "The requested rooms have been prepared for your guest."
Before Wolfe can acknowledge her, she turns and starts to walk away.
I'm shocked and say out loud, "Hannah?"
Could it be possible? Is this the woman who took my place at Silas's side one year ago? The last time I saw her, she was standing next to our husband, her hand on his shoulder as I was dragged away kicking and screaming.
The woman stiffens and turns her head slightly. "Skye." She says my name in cool acknowledgement and then continues walking.
"Wait, Hannah…" I take a few steps after her, but Wolfe catches my arm and holds me in place.
I look sharply down at his hand, but he doesn't remove it. He tightens his grip until I tilt my head back to look up into his eye.
"Let her go," he says quietly. "She's not the same woman you used to know."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I say, letting the frustration leak through in my voice. "What's going on around here? What happened when we left? How could she possibly have survived?"
Wolfe begins walking, giving me no choice but to follow him or fall, since he still has hold of my arm. I hurry to keep up with his longer strides.
"She can answer all of your questions, but you need to give her time. She's not the same woman."
I growl my frustration. "Yeah, you said that. What kind of a woman is she now? Half zombie?"
Wolfe doesn't say anything, but I see a slight shake to his shoulders telling me he's laughing. He’d better be laughing at my joke and not at me.
I realize that I need to calm down, process what's happening. I'm standing in a place that used to be my home, but everything has changed. My husband, the man who I shared this palace with, is now dead. Even if he somehow managed to survive the Primitive attacks, like Hannah did, he wouldn't have survived the neuroblastoma in his brain.
I try to relax my shoulders and follow Wolfe willingly. I know I can trust him with my safety. He might be frustrating as hell, a soldier to the core, but he would never willingly leave me in danger. As long as I'm under his roof, I should be safe.
I'm surprised when he shows me to the harem. "This is where you plan on keeping me?"
"For now." He nods at one of the guards who opens the door.
Nostalgia hits me hard as I step through the opening and into another world. I can't help but look at everything with new eyes.
The large common room is tidy, everything put in its place, as though the women of the harem hadn't fled in a panic, leaving everything where it fell. I suspect Hannah must've had the place cleaned up. Where it used to be bustling with a dozen women and servants, it's now devoid of people.
Bolts of fabric line one of the walls where seamstresses used to measure us and create beautiful outfits. Next door is the kitchen, where our chef created amazing meals out of limited resources. The bedrooms are in the back. Each wife had her own room, privacy being a prized commodity at the time. We were among the lucky few. We hadn't been turned out to starve, to fight for our livelihood, to endure the hardships that other citizens would've had to endure. The only expectation was that we please the Warlord when summoned.
"Thought you'd be more comfortable in a familiar place," Wolfe says from behind me.
I raise a skeptical brow and turn to look at him. "Since when do you care about anyone's comfort? No, I think there's another reason for putting me in the most secure room in the palace."
Wolfe’s expression is hard, his gaze icy as he looks me over, his eye drifting down my body. "Indeed."
Anger begins to rise at his one-word response. "Since you wish to secure me separate from my people," I say, swinging my hand around to indicate that my people are not with me, "I must assume that you have a reason. Are you trying to lock me in, or lock someone out?"
Again, he pauses before answering. "Both."
"Can you give me more?" I ask in frustration, pacing away from him. "Why am I here? I have a mission to complete. We can stay for a maximum of a few days, long enough to teach your doctor how to replicate and administer the vaccine, then we must move on."
"No." He says it simply, as though that one word explains everything.
I'm beginning to have an inkling of what's going on in that big, brutal brain.