Page 65 of Sunder

She could have that, too. A place to come back to. Just in case. Did that count as another mark against her? Another reason she was a poor, unfaithful sort of mate.

Or maybe it meant she had trouble letting go. Of moving on.

And maybe that was all right.

She pulled a pillow into her side and tucked it tight. She’d get up in a minute. Only needed to regroup. To remember. To feel the bits of sorrow and excitement in equal measure, swirling about her head and heart until she was nearly dizzy with it.

But she could smile, which was new. Because she might have to sacrifice those wretched suppers with family that shared blood but not love. But she would have her parents. Would have her mate.

Even if he did come with the Brum.

Who she had decided to like. Because anything else would mean a begrudging sort of acceptance, and that was one area she could try to control.

And if she fell asleep before she’d done anything at all...

Maybe that was all right, too.

???

She hadn’t slept long. Just enough to get the muzzy, overly-emotional bits settled down. She stretched and didn’t allow herself to worry about crumpled skirts or rumpled hair. Mama had stopped chiding her for such things a long time ago, assuming she kept to the house.

Which Orma wouldn’t.

Because she’d be going back with Athan.

Mama had discretely removed all the timepieces from Orma’s room when she’d found her tucked away in her bed watching the dials move and change. There were the smaller ones for the hour. The larger to show the changing seasons.

To which a much younger Orma had calmly explained she was waiting for her time to be over, and Mama had hugged her close and told her to never talk that way again, and then she never found another one again.

She could wait for Athan to come back. To admit he’d trespassed into topics better left unspoken, the temptation too great when her father would have few qualms about sharing any of it at all.

She could even find them, interrupt and express her disappointments while her father placated, and Athan apologised.

Or...

She could pack. Appreciate the time she’d been given to retreat to her little bathing room and pack those for herself. The medicines Athan would not approve of without knowing their contents. The lotions to keep her skin from looking as if she suffered from the wasting sickness. Salves to smooth into her hair so it appeared kempt and cared for rather than the neglected mess it became when her mother did not threaten her with combs and hours of intensive ministrations.

She wouldn’t have that soon.

She did not want Athan as her caregiver—to exchange one set for another. Didn’t want him hiring a servant just for her keeping because she was frail and her moods tended toward the morose.

Orma pushed those thoughts away. She wouldn’t pretend all would be better once she was situated in Athan’s home. She was still the same person. With the same troubles. But maybe... maybe Athan was right. Maybe there were things she could learn to do for herself. On days she was well enough to do them.

Mama found her before she’d finished, but she was pleased she was working rather than still napping. She greeted her with a smile, and Mama took to her usual chair as she assessed Orma’s progress by glancing in the wardrobe. “Coming along nicely,” she complimented. Was it merely a trick of the light, or did Orma see a glimmer of tears in her eyes? She wiped at them quickly enough, shaking her head. “I’m so happy for you, dearest. He seems like a good man.”

No talk of bloodlines now. Of old histories.

Orma should be grateful.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, running her finger along the frame of their portrait together.

“I know,” her mother soothed. “You are not alone in that, I think. Many new mates are nervous of one another at the start. Maybe we don’t mention that enough.”

She gestured for Orma to come closer by holding out her hand. “Do you have questions for me?” she asked, her voice a little lower than it had been. “I’ve been going over in my mind all the things I’ve said to you, and all that I haven’t, but I’m afraid they’ve blended in with your sister and I can’t recall what more you need to know.”

Orma flushed all over. “Things will be different for you,” Mama reminded her. As if Orma needed it. “I...” she paused, hervoice straining. “I wish so much that things had been different for you. And for what it is worth, I am sorry.”

Orma squeezed her hand. “I know you are.”

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