Page 39 of Sunder

Some glimmering awareness settled over him, and she fought not to fidget. “Not a simple district girl, then, are you?”

She shook her head, just the once.

He tapped his fingers against the table. He did not frown, but he did not appear particularly pleased, either.

She would not apologise. She did not pick him—had even tried to spare him. They said nothing. He did not press her for more, and she did not dare begin. Not when it would mean blurting out far more than she cared to share.

Eventually, he pushed a plate toward her. There were meats, and a few cheeses. Fruits cut and glistening in sweet syrup.

He could not know how little she cared to eat when she was so anxious. When she felt a breath away from crying. When she felt so acutely aware she was in a stranger’s home.

She rubbed harder.

“Orma,” he murmured.

She should stop. Needed to stop.

“What would make you happy today?”

Her hand stilled.

“What?”

She blinked, trying to make sense of the query she had not expected. There was no ready answer, no easy way she could answer him and be done.

He continued to look at her, his eyes soft and... sad.

Everyone was always sad around her. “If you could have anything today. Do anything. What would make you happy?”

It did not work that way. She was not without resources. She could ask for anything to be brought to her room—books she had never read from authors she would never meet. Foods from any of the districts, with new and delightful flavours.

It would mean nothing, her interest in either have waned a long time before.

She felt caged and watched. Her every movement, her everyfeelingunder his scrutiny.

“I don’t know.” Which felt another sort of failure, because what sort of person did not have a secret longing? To dip theirtoes in the salty sea, to fly above the forest. To find where the river met the sea.

To visit the market and its many stalls. To see all sorts of people she’d only ever encountered during her illicit visit to the fetes.

She did not much care for sand, and there was no possibility she was strong enough to venture outside the city to the great forests beyond.

A throng of people and their threads and colours felt impossibly daunting.

Was she supposed to explain all of that?

She skimmed her thumb over the lip of her mug, unable to look at him. “What about you?”

He hummed, settling back in his chair, his wings settling lazily. He was not a tangle of anxiety. Of conflicting feelings that never seemed to resolve. She envied him more than she could possibly say—wished she could absorb his tranquillity until it was a part of her. Why did bonds not work that way?

“Well, given how little I know you... so this will sound terribly one-sided, and likely make you cringe into your seat.”

She grimaced in anticipation.

“I should like to go to your home. Meet your family. Collect your belongings and bring them home. Watch you make yourself comfortable. Have a proper greeting with Brum.” He sighed, but only a little. “Of course, what I do know is that you have not agreed to live here. That you have kindly offered that I might keep Brum, regardless of the fear you seem to have of him.” He leaned forward, the movement catching at the edges of her vision, because she couldn’t—wouldn’t—look at him. “But none of that will happen today, will it? So maybe we can work out what will set you at ease enough to eat your breakfast.”

She glanced at the food again. Took a piece of cheese. A crust of bread. Could not bring herself to lift either to her lips, but it was more than she’d managed before.

“What you want is... perfectly reasonable,” she admitted, because she needed to acknowledge it. There was nothing wrong with him—he wanted his mate inside his home, and since she had no profession to dictate her dwelling place, it was reasonable to assume she would move to be with him.

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