Page 60 of Sunder

Athan stepped across the threshold, and she waited for her insides to squirm at the intrusion.

Had he felt the same nerves the night before? When he was offering her his bed and his shirt, without adequate time to prepare for her?

She sat down on the bed and had to fight back the urge to curl up in it. It really was wonderful. Soft. Supportive.

Was it terrible if her best friend was a bed?

Probably worse than if the Brum was Athan’s.

The wooden frame surrounding it had pretty pictures painted on the shutters. She could not see them at night, of course, when the moon was low, and the lamps dimmed, but they were her companions during the day. One panel was dedicated to the seaside. Others the forest. Always mates, usually either at work, or the one she liked best, seated beneath a large tree as they dined on foods that suspiciously looked like Orma’s favourites.

She’d crept into Mama’s letter box one day when she was feeling well enough and added her own ornamentations.

The threads that connected them. The swirls of colours and braided cords.

Far better that way. Realistic.

Mama had brought the healers to look at them after, which led to hushed tones and a trip down to the cellar.

She would have taken it back, if she could, but she couldn’t. So they stayed, and she wouldn’t think about what had come after.

“Is this room to your liking?” Athan asked, trying to take all of it in. He did not need such a bed frame, because the room wassmall and would hold in the heat perfectly well without it. There were tapestries covering the walls—curving seamlessly into each of the seasons as they followed the line of the tower itself. The window was open, likely by her mother’s doing. Items were strewn about, pretty trinkets and clothing alike, all awaiting to be tucked in a trunk that had always been ceremonial. No one expected her to use it. Not when she’d so adamantly refused she’d go to her mate, even when she’d come of age and their attitudes abruptly shifted on the subject.

She leaned back against the pillows, and something in her relaxed. “I suppose so.” Much of it had been decorated for her, but she wouldn’t say she disliked any of it.

His attention caught on the bed panels, and he smoothed his fingers over her additions. Faded now with time and improper materials, but still visible.

She folded her hands and let him continue his perusal. Her hip stopped aching, which was not unusual when she took weight off it. “My room looks nothing like this.” He wasn’t frowning, but there was a hint of something that suggested he was sorry for it.

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed.

He turned his head. She shouldn’t be lying down, should she? It was rude. She was meant to be packing. But it was nice not to hurt, and she’d linger a little longer if he didn’t mind.

Or was she not meant to agree with him?

She shifted a little, feeling awkward. Or perhaps that was him? He moved to another part of the room, inspecting the tapestries. The view from her window. It wasn’t much—just the courtyard, where the trees had grown in front and made it a difficult arrangement to leave through it. But she could. Had.

“I want you to be comfortable in my home,” Athan said at last. “I do not know that I can offer you all of this, but...” he turned. Looked at her directly. “I am not so poor I cannot furnishour home to your liking. Make it feel more like ours instead of just mine.”

It was a sweet worry for him to have, and Orma smiled at him softly. “Mama is the decorator,” Orma explained. “I might appreciate her efforts, but that does not mean it matters most to me.” She patted the bed beside her. “This does.”

He eyed her dubiously. It was not necessarily large enough for two, but she knew from experience that Mama fit well enough beside her. When she’d been smaller and her mother’s comfort was... necessary.

Now it was visits and tea and tales of neighbouring towers and the people that lived in between.

Athan didn’t argue with her. Came beside and... took his boots off first.

Which made her feel sheepish and wretched that she hadn’t thought of it first. Should she do it now? She’d hardly been anywhere.

She plucked at the laces all the same, and tried not to flush all over when he settled in beside her. Not under the bedclothes—that would be far too indecent. But he shifted and sorted out his wings, and then he sighed as he felt the mattress embrace him.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

He hummed. “This, I grant you, is very nice.”

Which meant there were other parts that weren’t, but she dared not trespass into that sort of talk until they were away again. Back in a room that was sparsely furnished, but still managed to feel welcoming.

Or maybe it was the man that had done that.

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