Page 106 of Fate

Ellena glanced about the courtyard, and she was left with the distinct impression this was not the first door she had tried. “The fault was mine,” she graciously offered. “I can’t help feeling I’m doing something wrong by being here. Being so close to the Hall.”

Her smile was thin, and Firen took a step backward, the better to usher her in. “Well, hopefully a nice visit here will help that.” Ellena entered, her attention drifting every which way, much as Mama’s had done the first time she’d come. It wasn’t an insult—it was motherly concern, and Firen would not grow cross at any of it. Not even if she found fault.

Even Mama had said the layout was a little odd, the kitchen smaller than was preferable, but softened the critique with the reminder that it would do very well while there were just two of them to live there.

“Mama, Ellena is here,” Firen called, as if she did not know. But it allowed her to come from the kitchen, to draw her in and take over the hosting. And perhaps that was rather cowardly, but Firen was grateful for it. She knew better what to point out, what a mother would care to see when it came to how her child was living.

Mama’s smile was warm, but Firen could see that it was slightly false about the edges. Her loyalty was to Firen alone, and she would try, for her sake. But beyond that...

It felt so strange, walking through each of the rooms. Trying to imagine what Ellena saw. She’d unpacked as much as shecould, trying to put personal touches in each of the rooms so they might feel a little more like home. But Ellena would not know that. She might just see clutter along the tables, the hearth that took up the sitting room wall. The one where Lucian had been the one to add some of the pictures from his trunk, but only at Firen’s urging.

“It’s our home,” she’d insisted as he sat in one of the cushioned armchairs and watched her flit about the room. “If they’re all my things, you’re going to think it’s just mine.”

“Would that be so bad?” Lucian asked, flipping the page on his book and looked wholly disinterested. “It’s worked out rather well, thus far. Better than when you were in mine, anyway.”

Her hands went to her hips, and she would not quarrel with him, so she did not allow her foot to rise and fall to punctuate her point, but she certainly would not let it go either. “Lucian,” she began. And when she was not rewarded with his full attention, she pushed aside his book and perched on his lap, and watched him quirk his brow and pretend he was cross with her for intruding while he read. “You have things,” she reminded him, twining her fingers behind his neck and letting him scowl as long as he pleased. “Things that mean something to you.”

Lucian swallowed when she wriggled and smiled sweetly at him. There would be time for that later, but she would allow him to think she would make time for it now if it furthered her cause of capturing his attention. “And those things should be out where we can see them. Unless...” her smile fell slightly, and there was very little of it that was for show. “They are so personal that you’d rather I didn’t see them? Even me?”

Her family, perhaps she could understand. Not that they would tease him for family pictures or little treasures. But he wouldn’t know that. Couldn’t know. Not until he’d experienced it for himself.

His mouth twitched, suggesting that he would not keep his scowl for long. And, most likely, his insistence that all his belongings remain in the trunk. “Do you mean to live here with me?” she asked, leaning forward and not quite kissing him. If she did, she might forget what her true mission was, and fall prey to his seductions.

And then they would not move in properly at all.

Just christen another of the rooms, which, she supposed, was rather an important goal, but not what she’d promised herself she would accomplish before day’s end.

He rolled his eyes, but his free hand settled on her hip so he could not be that irritated with her. “You know I do.” The corners of his mouth turned downward and his eyes shadowed, and she would not have him doubting, not when she meant to be teasing and welcoming.

“Then I think you should unpack your trunk,” Firen urged, kissing the corner of his mouth. Then the other side, but pulling away before she could get carried away. “I think you have half the mantle to fill with keepsakes. And then when you’re away at the Hall at all hours, I can look about and remember that I have a mate after all, and I didn’t make you up.”

He huffed out something that was between a laugh and a scoff. “You would have that power, wouldn’t you?”

She hummed, and then indulged in just the one kiss, because she was near to victory and she deserved a reward for it. “I would. But I’m glad I didn’t have to.”

And then she’d wriggled off of him, and she liked the way his hand lingered on her, as if sorry to have her go.

But he’d gone to the loft.

And fetched some of his things to take their place on the mantle, just as she’d said, and he’d given an exaggerated gesture afterward in want of her approval.

Which she’d given.

And if he’d gone to her and pulled her to him, and whispered low in her ear about rewards and how they should make use of the shuttered windows and warm fire, then she would not argue with him.

Maybe it should have felt strange, then, to be in that same room with their mothers. To watch Ellena cross over to the mantle to look at the pictures Firen was certain she’d painted. Given to her son to tuck away along with his memories of moments that were dear and worth the remembering.

The one of a woman with the fledgling in her arms. The one that was tenderness itself. That made Firen wish she had such talents so she might make a likeness for both herself and her mother. A gift, if ever there was one.

“A lovely room,” Ellena declared at last.

“We mean to have a rug,” Firen offered, because Ellena’s voice was a bit too tight and her eyes blinked a little too often. “For warmth in the winters. But I have not decided on what colours I like best.”

Ellena opened her mouth. Closed it again. Maybe she’d meant to offer suggestions. Or vendors she had used that would likely take an entire year’s worth of coin to pay for.

But when she tried again, her eyes had a wistful look, and Firen did not have to decline her recommendations after all. “I was so afraid to buy anything, at first. To make any changes at all. I suppose that’s common when you move into a home already situated. I think this is nicer. To make it yours from the start.”

Firen’s smile was wide and genuine. “I hope so. That is, I hope I am up to the challenge.”

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