Page 63 of Sunder

Anything for her smile, her father would say, giving her a pat before he left again.

“Your room, then. And presumably you’d like for us both to fit in it.”

Athan paused, turning to look at her. “I would,” he answered slowly, searching her eyes for... something. “Orma,” he began when it seemed he did not find what he was looking for. “I hope for it to be your home.”

Her brow furrowed. “So you’ve said.”

He shook his head, putting down the picture currently of greatest importance, and gestured about her room. “This is your parents’ home, yes?”

Orma sighed, not at all following. “Of course.” It was hers, too. Perhaps she had become a little more entrenched than most because of circumstances, but home was home.

It was... difficult to imagine that the dwelling with Athan and the Brum would someday feel as familiar as the tower she’d known for the whole of her life.

“And you have had this room in it,” Athan continued, watching her closely. “Lovely as it is.”

Orma rubbed at the bond absently. “I fail to see your point.”

Athan gave her a look of disbelief, because he apparently thought he was being perfectly clear as he led her down the path of his thinking. “All of your things do not have to be relegated to a single room. Not when there is an entire house to hold it.”

Orma blinked, the thought settling strangely.

An entire house. For her?

No, forthem.

Because she would take on the role her mother held. As a healer’s mate rather than a judicator, but... still.

Her hand stilled on her chest as she considered, and Athan continued to watch her. “Does this please you?” he asked, because she’d been quiet a long while, and he was waiting for her. To react, or to say... anything at all.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she admitted. Which made her feel silly. Like it was more than obvious, and yet she could not see outside of the way she’d always lived.

What else wasn’t she considering? That he knew, and hadn’t thought to say, because she should know it already.

He took a deliberate breath and waited for her to imitate the motion. Of course he would, because he could feel the turn of herthoughts, the anxiety that spread when she wasn’t being careful and keeping it solely to herself.

Orma tamped it down, both in the bond and in her own self. She’d learn. She’d adapt. No need to fuss and worry.

Which never worked. Yet even so, she pretended she could simply will it all away.

She tucked her legs up under her, but that made the scar tissue in her knee pull awkwardly, so she had to extend it back out again. She should get up. Help.

She rubbed a little harder at the bond.

“Orma...” Athan drew out her name, adding a lilt about the middle that brought her attention back to him. “What are you fretting about?”

She stilled her hand. “What else don’t I know?” she admitted, her voice small. “There won’t be any other people to help. It’ll just be... us. And I don’t think you can appreciate just yet how little I know how todoanything.”

Athan did not wave away her concerns, but he did go back to her wardrobe and pulled out a few more garments. They were the most formal, for when the family suppers were extended to include the other most elite in their district. All frothy fabrics that concealed as much of her skin as possible. He hadn’t even found the headdresses tucked away in their cushioned boxes.

If he tried to bring those too, she really was going to have to intervene.

“Do you want to learn?” Athan asked, not looking at her. Just considering the garment in his hand and perhaps trying to decide on its purpose. “Try new things? Or would you prefer to not?”

There was a flare of irritation that he did not deserve but came anyway. “It was hardly my choice,” Orma reminded him, and she did her best to keep the tinge of bitterness out of her tone.

Athan glanced at her, but only briefly. “Granted,” he allowed. “But you have one now. And of course there would be limitations, and I’ll understand those better when we go through your records, but that isn’t my question.”

He went back to the wardrobe and set the garment back, and she released a relieved breath. He picked up another. She’d outgrown it a long while back, but it had been a particularly wonderful name-day. The bond had been quiet—she hadn’t known why, but it hadn’t mattered. They all went out to the courtyard and at all her favourite meals, and she could even play with her siblings. Chase, mostly. Flitting about the trees in full bloom, her wings working far better than the leg still covered in bandages.

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