Page 37 of Sunder

In truth, she possessed little in the way of appetite. But she wanted him to know that his efforts were appreciated, and she was rewarded with a smile as he nodded. “Perfect.”

It was hardly that, but it was the best she had to offer.

He did not hover at the washroom door, but he also did not retreat all the way to the kitchen. Instead, she found him sitting on the top of the stair, his head turning when she made her waydown the short hall. He stood almost immediately, his pensive expression replaced by his seemingly usual enthusiasm. “Brum is outside. If that worried you. I didn’t want you to have to make the way down, afraid you’d be startled by him.”

Because Brum was a name, not his species. She really must remember that.

“Does he like to be? Outside, that is.” He did not carry her down, but allowed her to make her way at her own pace. Slow, as usual when stairs were involved. Her hip ached, but only a little, and it might pass altogether as the day wore on.

“Oh, yes. Well... perhaps not yet. He breakfasts with me most days, when I am home to indulge him. But that does not mean he resents more time in his garden.”

She thought of the courtyard at home. All the ornamental vines and trees that had been planted with such purpose. Not by her, certainly, and not by her mother. Generations before, tended by knowing hands that knew how to pluck and water and prune as necessary.

She should have paid attention to such matters, but the suns tired her and the summer heats were oppressive when the high walls did not allow the sea breezes to offer respite.

“Why is it his?”

Athan laughed softly behind her. “He spends more time out there than I do. I try. There’s just always something, you know? Someone to visit, or hours in the infirmary. But I need to make the time. Plants play an important role in healing, as I’m sure you are aware.”

She hummed, mindful of the last step. “A pity he cannot be taught to tend it.”

She should offer, shouldn’t she? Another woman would, eager to take on the role as mate to a healer. To help him as he gave his help to others.

Perhaps that woman would even launder the linens in the infirmary. Wash his tools after a surgery.

The very prospect of stepping foot inside the building next door made her stomach turn.

She followed him down the hall, and then through the kitchen door he held open for her. She could not recall the last time she’d even been inside such a room, let alone to eat there.

But his table was there, pushed against the far wall. There was a large cushion on the floor, and beside it, one of the two chairs.

Food was on the table. Cups, a kettle blanketed in a quilted contraption that greatly resembled the covering they’d slept beneath the night before.

Homey, she decided.

In the sort of way her home had never been, yet felt... right.

There was a fire. Even a stove, although it was small and could not accommodate the suppers of her entire extended family.

But that was all right. They’d never be here. Would never have even considered it.

“Sit where you like,” Athan offered, going to the back door and peering through the window cut inside of it. She did not do as he suggested, instead following so she might catch a glimpse of the garden.

And the Brum.

For all his insistence he did not tend it well enough, all was lush and thriving. There were neat rows of beds, then twining paths that led to a small footbridge. An odd thing to have, given they could fly over most anything. She stood on tiptoe, trying to see if that meant there was a stream running through it, but she was rewarded with the Brum standing on his two back legs, his large front paws pressing against the windowpane as he hollered his displeasure at being removed from the house too soon.

Athan’s arm reached out and held her steady before she could bolt backward, her heart racing and her resentment growing. She did not like to be startled, did not handle it gracefully, and she realised his suggestion to sit at the table had been the correct course.

“You’re all right,” Athan soothed, which was a lie because she was not, and he knew perfectly well through the bond how she felt.

But she said nothing. Just slipped out of his grasp and went to the table, willing herself to calm before she said something sharp she would most certainly regret.

“Orma,” Athan sighed, but she shook her head.

“I’m all right,” she repeated, because if he could lie, then she could, too.

Athan made a snorting sound, and made some gesture toward Brum, and he disappeared behind the door in a huff. “Someday, you’ll have a proper introduction. And maybe you will even come to like him.”

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