Page 89 of Fate

But neither offered a solution, not when they were personal doubts that likely only ebb with time. With affection. With constantly choosing what the other needed. Some of what they wanted.

Lucian pulled away first, and she was sorry for it. Their first embrace in their own kitchen. Where she could kiss him if she wanted without fear that her mother would walk in. Where Lucian might actually return that kiss because it was theirs.

She grinned at him, but his back was to her, already heading back into the hallway.

Then toward the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked, already thinking of heading up to the loft and investigating more of their new quarters.

“To your mother,” Lucian answered. She hadn’t noticed him swiping the keys until he dangled them from this forefinger. “To thank her for her help.”

Why that meant so much to her, she couldn’t begin to say. But it did. “Without me?” she posed, her wings drooping a little lower as she tried to look downcast. She wasn’t. She wanted to beam at him and thank him for being...

Well...

Who she’d hoped he’d be.

“You can come if you like, I suppose.” He rolled his shoulders and opened the door, as if he was perfectly willing to go offwithout her. Maybe he was. It was a visit he felt the need to make for his own sake, even if it was her family he would be seeing.

“I could be persuaded,” she called back, already hurrying down the hallway. “You’d make a mess of my trunk, anyway.”

He snorted as he shook his head and locked the door behind them. It was a lie, and they both knew it. His was all crisp folds and tidy edges. Hers was... just as she liked it. A contained chaos, her mother would say with a grim face and a tone of disapproval.

Eris was worse. She let the contents spill out onto the floor. And any other surface she could find, for that matter.

Firen could invite her over. Could invite any of them, any time she pleased.

She hesitated, catching hold of Lucian’s arm as he was about to ascend. “I can...” she swallowed and tried again. “My family can come here, yes? For suppers and visits?”

He must have seen something in her expression, because he did not tease her for her doubt. Just allowed his eyes to soften ever so slightly. “You are mistress here,” Lucian answered. “To invite whomever you please.”

“They should have a manual of some sort,” Firen complained, allowing him to pull her up behind him as they breached the boughs of the courtyard trees. “Rules about common areas and how many visitors we are allowed. That sort of thing.”

Lucian shook his head, and she wondered what was so silly about that. She wanted to be courteous. Although the map suggested there would be no one to share the courtyard, the other buildings standing tall and empty.

Which was a fine thing if one liked privacy. Which she did, occasionally. But she also liked neighbours to chat with, as she tended to the little mundane tasks that took up an entire day. Someone to hang the laundry with to warm in the suns.

That sort of thing.

She wondered what it meant. If the other workers in the Halls merely had other accommodations provided by their families—as was usual.

Expected.

Or...

She thought of Vandran’s daughters. Who had no interest in following their father into his trade. Of study and long days with books and cases. Anything else that made up the actual work to manage an entire city and its people.

Of his query, if she would care for employment, as well.

She’d dismissed it readily enough, for it had never occurred to want it. And perhaps...

Perhaps fewer did.

When there was coin enough to be made with small crafts. Or the trades outside the walls. Crops and livestock. Where days were managed by the weather rather than masters and books of governance so thick they had to make up multiple volumes.

“Could you see me as a lawmancer?”

She knew better than to try to talk in the air. Lucian knew she’d spoken, but his quizzical look made it clear he hadn’t made out the words. Which was fine. It was a question for herself more than for him.

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