Page 97 of Sunder

She wasn’t mutilated. She wasn’t. There were scars, and she’d never bear a child, but it wasn’t the same, was it?

Her eyes burned. Her throat, too.

She would make them tea. It was a meagre skill, and she would have to ask him for help with the stove, but it would give her something to do. Something tangible.

Her feet wouldn’t move. Not when he was still touching her. Looking at her.

Waiting.

For her to accept? To agree to go? To share her story and insist that each of those men be brought before the Hall to face the tribunal?

Her father would be there.

Accusations would land upon him as well. He’d allowed it, hadn’t he? Each and every procedure.

“They did nothing wrong,” Orma reminded him, her voice wooden. “The bond wasn’t complete, therefore it wouldn’t constitute interference.” The words weren’t hers, and Athan seemed to realise it, his eyes narrowing as he sat back.

He almost removed his touch, but he kept a loose hold on her hips as if afraid she’d scamper away from him.

“You believe that?” Athan asked, trying and failing to keep the incredulity from his tone.

Orma looked up at the ceiling and took a breath, holding it until her lungs burned before she released it. “I believe,” she began, trying to choose her words carefully. Trying even harder to keep from being sucked into memories she couldn’t escape. “That I love you for wanting to fight for me. For caring so much about what happened to me.” She took another breath, quicker this time. Managed to bring her eyes down so she might look at him. “I admire your dedication to others. That you’d want to save them from...” her words failed her, so she gestured over the mounds of papers and the horrid books. “As my mate, you’d have a right to petition the court. To claim interference. You might even win.”

His mouth opened, but she shook her head. “But I love my family. I do not know what that says about me, or if it is some failing on my part that I do not wish to betray them, but I don’t. There have been none like me for generations. No one else will endure what I did. If you go, if you tell of what happened, you will go alone.”

It hurt just to say it. To feel a wedge driven between them, a piercing, tearing sort of pain because the bond was badly jostled. They were supposed to discuss matters. Compromise. But on this...

She closed her eyes, willing the awful feeling to go away. To bring the calm back, the urge to be the one to comfort instead of desperately wanting him to soothe her. To pet and murmur until all was quiet.

She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t cry and whimper.

She needed to speak for herself. Needed to be more than a patient hiding in her bed.

Athan brought his arms about her.

Tugged her forward.

Not to settle across her lap as she’d done before, but to straddle him as she sank down with a startled gasp.

They were nearly at eye level, and she searched for his anger. She wasn’t supposed to make declarations like that. She should be quiet and yielding, should support him in what he thought best.

Isn’t that what Mama did?

Or... was it?

That’s how she was in public, but everyone had heard some of their stronger arguments as they seeped beneath their door, back when her bedroom was located nearer the others.

She should stop talking before she made matters worse, but they kept pouring out. Much like her tears always had. She wasn’t certain she liked this better.

“This is my life,” she insisted, brushing her hand against one of the piles. She didn’t swipe it onto the floor, but she very nearly wanted to. “Mine. And... I know it affects you, please don’t think I don’t realise that, but...”

“Orma,” Athan cut in, brushing his lips against hers ever so briefly. “Orma,” he repeated, because her breath was in shortlittle pants. His hand smoothed up her back, then down again. Over and over. Until she could breathe again. In and out.

Because he was doing it with her.

They were all right.

He wasn’t angry.

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