Page 53 of Sunder

Well.

To do anything at all.

Suddenly, it was not so daunting to return home. To make it an escape rather than the confrontation she’d feared moments before.

Maybe the Brum could stay here. And Athan could work here. And maybe he wouldn’t mind coming to visit her in the tower after all, after he’d washed himself.

Thoroughly.

Perhaps more than once.

Wasting sickness could kill a grown man in less than a sennight. How long would it take for her?

“I would never put Orma at such risk,” Athan promised, first to Lucian, then turning to her. He’d be able to feel her anxiety, feel the itch in her skin that told her to go home, to wash, to protect herself from threats she couldn’t see, couldn’t detect. “Next door is the infirmary. That is true. But I had not intended to offer Orma a tour unless she requested it. And only then after the cleaners had seen to it, and I was certain the worst it had seen was a birth, not the plague.”

He tried to force some levity into his tone, but his eyes were serious.

He would protect her. Always. She needed to trust him, if only in this.

She wanted to. Orma wanted this aching, panicky feeling to retreat from her limbs and heart. “Her safety is paramount,”Athan continued, reaching out and rubbing his forefinger against her wrist. Checking her pulse or offering comfort? She couldn’t be sure, and it troubled her.

“Well, good.” Lucian nodded, seemingly appeased. She wanted to be. Desperately. But it was more complication she hadn’t considered, and it bothered her deeply.

What if he took sick going about his duty? She could not nurse him. The Brum certainly couldn’t. So what then?

“Will you come to supper soon?” Lucian asked, addressing his query to Orma. “Firen is ready to burst. It was everything I could do not to have her follow me.”

Orma nodded, because she didn’t know what else to do. There were too many uncertainties, and it was possible Firen and Lucian would be the only family she had left after today.

She looked after him, and it appeared he wanted to say more. But one glance toward Athan and he shook his head. “Don’t look so dour, Orma. This might be a good thing.”

She did not bother to asking him to clarify what he meant. It wasn’t about suppers or visiting her parents.

He wanted to believe Athan would be good for her.

Orma wanted that, too.

She watched him go, feeling a catch in her throat. It wasn’t forever. Firen wasn’t the type to say no if Orma showed up even tonight, with an empty stomach and a new mate and the desire for good food and company.

But it felt different.

Like she’d been left to a new life, one that felt strange and unnatural—not at all like she’d always hoped it might. As if pieces were trying to fit together, but she was going to have to hurt in the process of sorting it all out.

Athan brushed his fingers against her upper arm. “Why do you look so sad?” he asked, his voice low. Careful. “I only startedarguing when he did. Should I not have done even that? He wanted to see you, and I wasn’t certain if you would be... ready.”

He picked at the fabric of her sleeve, and she waited for the earlier mortification to return. But it didn’t. Her feelings settling into a deep sort of melancholy that usually took at least a day to pass entirely.

Athan gave a hum, and that was the only warning she received before he leaned forward and scooped her into his arms, shutting the door with his foot. Even that was not enough to set her heart racing, to distract her, and she waited for him to put her back in her chair and insist she finish her breakfast.

Like a fledgling.

But he bypassed the table, and the Brum that watched them both warily as Athan opened the back door. But he did not insist Brum go outside, and instead took her out into the morning air.

To a bench carved into the side of the house itself. To the garden that was overgrown in places.

He sat beside her, not staring at her, not chattering away, just... sitting.

And if he was waiting for her answer, it was with a calm sort of patience that did not make her feel rushed.

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