Page 105 of Fate

All she’d felt was an outpouring of relief from his side of the bond. So pronounced that it made her want to slide into the bed beside him and hold him to her, because he’d kept it from her so completely. Hadn’t wanted to push. Hadn’t wanted to force her into any sort of obligation.

But he’d wanted it. Privately. Quietly.

Until she was ready to attempt it on her own.

“As if I wouldn’t have done it if you’d asked,” she scolded as she flew back down to the kitchen. “Ridiculous man.”

Which he wasn’t, but she could call him that.

Because he was hers, and she loved him.

10. Choose

“Firen, if you move those flowers one more time, I’m going to tie you to this chair.”

Mama didn’t mean it. She glanced at her anyway, and received a stern glance in answer, and Firen’s hands fell away from the jug without moving it left just a smidge as she’d intended. “But...”

“No buts,” Mama insisted. “Everything looks lovely. You look lovely. Now it’s time to stop.”

She sat, but she wasn’t happy about it. Lucian had left extra early—before Firen was even awake. She’d received a kiss on the cheek and hurried word that he loved her and no, she didn’t have to be up yet, and to go back to sleep. The words were slow to register, and he’d been gone before she’d woken up enough to remind him of the day’s details and receive a firm answer about if he might come.

“I shouldn’t have set a place,” Firen fussed. “Not if he isn’t coming. It’ll make it more obvious if...”

Mama tapped at her hands as she reached out to take the plate and cup away. “It’s fine. Better than you bustling about trying to make him feel welcome at his own table if he can come.”

Firen sank back against the chair and sighed. “I’m nervous.”

Mama smiled at her. “I know you are.”

Firen gave her a miserable look. “I want this to go well.”

Mama reached out and took her hand. “It has a much better chance if you don’t dwell on all the ways it won’t. How much did you sleep last night?” Firen grimaced. “I’ll take that to mean you lay awake for hours playing out the entire event.”

Firen’s wings wilted a little further. “Maybe.” She picked at her fingertip, not meeting her mother’s eye. “It was Lucian’s fault, really. Fell asleep before I could talk it all out with him. That would have made me feel better.”

Mama shook her head. Opened her mouth, likely to remind Firen that there was no point in all her worrying, that everything would proceed exactly as it was meant to, and she was only tormenting herself with all her endless ruminations.

But she didn’t.

Because a bell jingled merrily, and Firen had not even realised they had such a luxury, so she startled far more than was reasonable.

Then was met with one of Mama’s firm looks, and she rose without stumbling over herself. She wouldn’t rush. She wouldn’t grow flustered and awkward. This was her home, and Ellena was a guest.

The water in the kettle was bubbling gently. The leaves were waiting in the pot.

She didn’t pause to ask Mama if she looked all right before she went down the hallway to the door.

She wished Lucian was there. That he was the one pulling open the latch, was the one greeting Ellena with all the enthusiasm that only he could give.

But he wasn’t, and it was just her, and the hinges were well oiled and the only effort at all came from her own nerves.

She realised she’d expected Oberon to be behind the door. To loom in wait, to bully his way inside. To spoil everything.

Again.

But it was only Ellena. Looking as nervous as Firen felt. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she looked mildly surprised that Firen opened the door at all.

“Ellena,” Firen greeted with a smile she hoped was warm, despite the little anxieties pulsing through her mind, urging her that things were going to go badly, and soon. “Was it difficult to find?”

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