Page 66 of Sunder

Mama nodded. “Well. At least he’ll be more understanding than most. And if he’s not, we can get an appointment for some new nightclothes. Distract him.”

“Mama,” Orma complained, tugging at her hand because her mother suddenly would not release her grip. “I don’t...” she huffed out a breath and glanced down at herself. She knew to what her mother referred, and she was self-conscious enough without her mother adding to it. “I have too many worries as it is. I can’t handle any more.”

“Certainly,” her mother agreed, nodding her head and tugging Orma to lean down so she might hug her. “I only meant that I will help in any way I can. And if he’s awful...”

Orma shook her head. “He isn’t.”

And the bond pulsed, because it was in perfect agreement.

“Of course he isn’t.” Mama gave a little cough and allowed Orma to stand fully. “Just... remember we are here. On days when your uncle isn’t.”

Her tone suggested it was a jest, but her eyes were more serious than they should have been.

Lucian’s father. Who didn’t like that his mate’s sister’s husband had a taller tower, was a judicator rather than a lawmancer.

Didn’t like that there was a defective in the family, tainting the bloodlines.

“You’ll have to put some sort of sign on the door,” Orma countered. “So I know when not to come home.”

Mama reached up and smoothed her hair. “Don’t be churlish. It doesn’t suit you.”

Orma rather thought it did, but she didn’t argue.

Instead, she let her mother help her with the last of her things. Allowed her to make promises about family suppers that would certainly include her siblings and their mates and children.

Never mind that her siblings had lost interest in her when she wasn’t getting better. When they had lives to lead and had little time to waste sitting with her.

She loved them, and she was certain they loved her in a family devotion sort of way, but they were not close. Not like when they were small.

But she let her mother prattle on. Even let her grow misty eyed as she hugged her, and said again the tower was going to be too empty and it really was cruel of her to have started all this so abruptly.

“Yes, Mama,” she’d agreed to all of it, knowing full well most of it would not come to pass.

Or maybe it would. She needed to stop thinking she knew everything, stop assuming the worst of the people she loved.

A cart took them home.

Correction—two carts. After burly men had intruded on her bedchamber and stood about and eyed her frame and the doorway with dubious expressions. She couldn’t recall how it had come in. Perhaps it had even been built in place. But after some hammering and only a few curses, it was out and in the cart.

She’d only meant the mattress itself, but Athan evidently preferred the bed in its entirety.

Then there was the cart with fine cushions to take them home again. Her father’s doing, she was certain. Unnecessary, although her hip had started hurting again as she took the trips between her wardrobe and the bathing room to ensure she had all she wanted.

The trunk was settled behind the bed, and Athan was seated beside her. These carts weren’t for their kind. They were for the merchants that settled here, wealthy and disinclined to traverse the steeper parts of the city. They’d no wings to help them, and she could well commiserate with how tiring it could be with only legs to rely upon.

Athan reached for her hand and took it, squeezing lightly. “How do you think it went?”

Orma sighed and picked at her skirt. “Better than I feared.” Nothing in her tone suggested that was true, but she wanted it to be. “Any conspiracies to confess?” She tried to keep her voice light, but she wasn’t as successful as she’d hoped.

“Yes,” Athan answered with far more ease than if he’d actually betrayed her. “Suggestions from a father to his daughter’s new mate about how to keep her happy.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, which she only allowed because the cart had a covering to keep it private. It certainly wasn’t because her heart leapt when he did it. Wasn’t because the bond pulsed and warmed in the most pleasant way she could imagine. “But if you want those particulars, I’m afraid you’d have to be sworn into our conclave of men devoted to your care.”

His lips turned downward for just a moment before he smoothed it away again.

She could pretend she hadn’t seen. Could accept his teases and not press for anything more.

But then it wouldn’t be real, would it? If he had worries of his own. She needed to help carry his if she wanted him to engage with hers.

It was easy to nudge him with her elbow. To give him a pointed look when he quirked a brow, as if everything was fine. “What were you thinking, just then?”

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