Page 82 of Sunder

“I need books,” she explained, wriggling her toes beneath the Brum’s weight to encourage blood to go back into them. He gave a miffed sort of breath, but did not move from his position.

“Books,” Athan repeated, eyeing the basket where her history lay nestled.

She cleared her throat and shook her head. “Different books.”

He gave a slow nod, watching her face and trying to interpret all she had not said. “You wish to go to your father’s library?”

There were many things in that room, but not what she wanted now. “I should like to procure new books,” Orma explained. Then paused, tugging at her skirt and refusing to feel embarrassed. “Where does one do that?”

Athan’s mouth twitched just a little, but he had the good grace not to smile at her ignorance. “There is a stall at the market that specialises in foreign books, if you are looking for a challenge. Most of them are in their native languages. I bought one, on a whim, thinking if I stared at it long enough, I mightunderstand its meaning. I am sorry to say that is not how it works.”

While the prospect of that held its own kind of appeal, Orma shook her head. “No. I am interested in more... practical matters.” Of course, the trouble would be that most people did not require such knowledge to be written down. Farmers would teach it to their sons and daughters, and even their mates, should they wish to change their professions. Parents would instruct their children in matters of cookery, passing down ancient recipes from the previous generation to the next.

But she could hope. And look. If Athan knew of a bookseller where she might at least ask if such a thing existed.

“Practical matters,” Athan repeated, looking her over. As if he could tell the rest of her thoughts from appearance alone. “What if I have such a tome in my collection already? Would it not be easier to ask me first?”

Perhaps, although she’d dismissed the notion after she’d perused the two small shelves flanking the living room hearth. Medical books. A few on potions. One about a grand adventure across the sea, that she would hold off reading until she grew so bored on her own she needed its company.

She glanced toward the shelves, trying to find a gentle way to inform him his collection was... well honed. Its subjects narrow. Practical, given his position, but not helpful for her education.

And it certainly did not have a guide on what vegetables looked like and how they were named, and how did one tell if they were cooked through or close to spoiling.

“Your books are helpful for your tasks,” Orma answered as gently as she could. “But seeing as I do not intend to take up healing, I’m afraid I need different ones.” She nodded toward the bookshelves, meagre as they were.

Athan did laugh then. “That is not all of them, Orma. I will not claim to have so fine a library as your father, but my masterwas a collector. My father as well. But if you would prefer a bookseller, I know of one. Not in this district, however.”

A long walk, then. Or a short flight. She shifted her wings, trying to judge their strength. She’d eaten little that morning, but she’d been a bit better by midday, the meal settling well enough. They settled back. She should just ask him. Trust him not to think her a foolish girl without near enough learning in her head.

She’d read lots—when her eyes and the sharp pounding in her head would allow it. About histories and architecture. The few novels likely smuggled in by her mother when she found one that pleased her. But there was much she didn’t know, and although she was certain Athan would be quick with his reassurances, it was a hard admission to make.

“And where exactly is this collection?” Orma asked, thinking of the empty rooms upstairs. She’d peeked at them. They were not wholly empty—some held a few pieces of furniture, but those were covered in cloth and were clearly not fit for use without a thorough dusting and a comfortable arrangement.

Athan rubbed at his chin. “Ah. Well, it would be in the infirmary. There are a great deal of reference books, I grant you, and it seemed... prudent to keep them where most needed.”

Orma stilled, and Brum took the opportunity to press more of his weight onto the tops of her feet. They’d be wholly numb when he eventually moved off her, and she did not look forward to sensation rushing back to them.

“A bookseller, then,” Athan pronounced with a nod. “So my mate might find all that she needs onpractical matters.”He said it with a smile, but there was no tease in his voice. He liked that she asked him. Liked that there was something he could grant her.

It should have pleased her in turn, but she shook her head as he stood, Brum’s head popping up to look at his keeperwith reproach for the movement. “The infirmary,” Orma began, and there was no mistaking the hesitation in her voice. “It is... clean?”

Athan returned to his seat. “I would not have you there if it was otherwise.”

There was no hint of insult in his voice, but she felt chastened by it all the same. She must stop doubting him. Doubting his care of her. Perhaps their accord was still new, still shaky in their understandings, but that did not mean it lacked in strength. In commitment.

“Of course not,” Orma affirmed, nodding to herself. To him. Even to the Brum when he swung his head back so he might look at her. “What might his patients say if your keeper got his new mate sick within the first moon?”

Athan snorted, looking fondly between Brum and her. “A sorry end to my profession,” Athan quipped, easing back in his chair. She really must wriggle free of the Brum. Steel her courage and face the infirmary without looking about every corner and surface for some disease that might spring out and infect her.

She would be fine. Better than fine. She’d learn a little more of her mate. Let him show her the sum of his life’s work.

Or maybe they could sit a little longer. And if she settled back against the chaise with her numb feet and a happy Brum and an even happier Athan, then it was time well spent.

???

For all her experience with healers, she had never been inside an infirmary.

And yet she was nervous, standing outside of this one. Athan was with her, his hand on the latch as if it was the most natural thing in the world to go inside. Which to him it was.

---