Page 51 of Sunder

Voices raised, and a knot formed in her belly. Because she knew that tone, regardless of the distance down the hall.

And it wasn’t a patient after all.

4. Plan

It could have been worse.

It might have been her father.

Or Oberon.

Coming to drop off her trunk at Athan’s doorstep and remind her she was being pruned from their family line.

She did not want to go out. Let Athan deal with it alone while she chastised herself for not dressing so she might appear presentable—prim and chaste, because they certainly had done nothing untoward.

Not that anything could be considered so when they were mates, and yet mortification spread through her all too easily, uncaring of bonds and laws and the apparent change in decorum.

But they were arguing, and that mattered to her.

So she went out, full of embarrassment and a tinge of resentment, because she was trying and this was only making it worse.

“Lucian,” she murmured, because both men were on the doorstep, Lucian’s arms crossed as he took in Athan’s appearance and found it utterly lacking.

Only for him to dare to smirk at her when he saw her in the borrowed sleep shirt.

“Well,” he said instead, abandoning the crisp tone and role as fierce protector. “This changes matters.”

Orma tugged the shirt further down her legs. “It certainly does not.”

“Really?” He stepped closer, peering at her the way only family could. A bit teasing, a bit mocking, but with just enough concern that she did not rush forward and shove at him for being wretched. “From my view, it does.”

Athan’s posture shifted as Lucian calmed. No longer defending his home and his mate. Just... waiting. To see what she would ask him to do.

To see if she would ask Lucian to take her home.

She should. After she’d dressed, of course.

“Did you tell Mama?” she asked, because that pressed at her most. She’d worry, and Orma didn’t want that. She also did not want her caught up in the fantasy that Orma was off, perfectly healed and holding off visiting because of some mated joy.

“This morning,” Lucian affirmed. “She has questions.”

Orma grimaced. “Naturally.” She swallowed, wondering if she should invite him in. It felt too presumptuous—the house wasn’t hers, and she did not know if Brum was only courteous to strangers that happened to be mates, so she dared not lead him into the kitchen to share in the meal. “Were we hard to find?”

“Not very.” Lucian flicked an errant bit of debris from the sleeve of his robe. He should be at the Hall by now. Or enjoying a morning off with Firen. Not here, looking after her again. Guilt made her shift, but both men looked at her as if it was her leg that was bothering her. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You needn’t come back until you’re ready.”

His attention on her was sure, and she knew the cost of what he was offering.

To meddle. Intervene, if that was what she wished. Which meant Athan could go to the Hall and lodge a formal complaint,and Oberon would use it to strip Lucian of his remaining privileges, still resentful of his mating to Firen.

He loved her. Would fight for her. Not just because of kin and blood, but because he liked her. Always had. Even when he was older and it was somehow beneath elders to acknowledge care for the younger.

Orma leaned against the wall, because it was possible her hip did hurt. Her knee as well. Athan moved toward her, but she shook her head, wanting to talk to Lucian on her own. “How am I supposed to be ready?” she asked. Everything had gone wrong for Lucian once Firen had come. Or... maybe it had gone right. But he still lost his father. His mother’s visits were limited.

She did not want to lose her parents. All she’d known.

She scrubbed at her face and waited for Lucian to give her what wisdom she lacked. “I don’t think you can be, Orma. They’re going to react however they please. And there might be consequences, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it.” He glanced toward Athan. “I don’t know him, though. So maybe it isn’t, and I’ll fly you home right now and we barricade the doors and let him pace around a bit while you decide what you want.”

Athan frowned, but he looked to Orma rather than argue with Lucian. “That won’t be necessary,” Athan offered, and there was pain in the bond, and only some of it was hers. “If you want to go home, you can.”

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