Page 88 of The Alien in the Archive

The kettle whistles; Page shuts off the stove, then pours steaming water into the mugs.

“Well?” she says. “Go sit down. I don’t want you to make me spill.”

I take a seat on the couch, close enough to feel the warmth from the fireplace. Ashlan hops up beside me, curling into a tiny ball. As the warmth of the room seeps into me, far more inviting than the cold halls of the Obscuary, Page comes in with both mugs.

She hands me one of them, aromatic steam wafting off of it—fruit and flowers, delicate yet robust. Page sits down beside me and tucks her legs underneath her, then takes a sip from her cup.

She moans softly. “Mm…that’s perfect,” she says. “Always a classic. Now, drink it, come on.”

I try mine as well, and I let her into my mind for that first sip. I’m not sure if I like it purely because I acquired a taste for it from her…but I don’t particularly care.

“What do you think?” she asks.

I laugh. “You already know what I think. You’re in my head.”

“Okay…well other than the telepathy, look at us being ordinary,” she says. “Tea, a cozy fire, and the galaxy’s last Borean sitting on my couch. Completely normal.”

“Utterly mundane,” I agree. “And yet…I can’t imagine anything better.”

“Hmph,” she says. “You’re laying it on thick tonight.”

“I’m trying to be ordinary,” I argue. I take another sip of the tea, glancing up at Page when I realize she’s stillwaiting on a critique. “It’s good, Page. Better than expected.”

“High praise from someone who’s basically immortal. Earl Grey survives another century of scrutiny.”

We finish our tea in companionable silence, the crackle of the fire filling the room as the warmth seeps into me. Page sets her mug down on the table, her gaze lingering on the flames. Ashlan grumbles when she shifts closer to me, clearly displeased that his spot has been compromised. With an indignant huff, he trots over to the hearth, curling up near the fire to bask in its warmth.

Page leans against my shoulder, her body warm and soft against mine. I let out a small breath, settling into the moment, the strange comfort of it. My tea is going cold, but I don’t care. The sensation of her beside me eclipses the warmth of any drink.

I put the mug down and, without thinking, reach for her hand. Her fingers immediately intertwine with mine.

“Wait a minute,” she starts.

“What?” I glance down at her, raising a brow.

Her face is scrunched in thought, her lips twitching as if she’s debating whether or not to say whatever’s on her mind. Then she looks up at me.

“If you don’t eat…” she begins slowly. “Okay. Thorne—it just occurred to me. There’s no bathroom in the Obscuary.”

I blink at her. “There are toilets,” I say, not entirely sure where this is going.

She waves that off. “Yeah, yeah, toilets, fine. But not…a shower? How do you bathe?”

I shrug. “There are natural springs in the Labyrinth. Considering I don’t eat and most of my bodily functions have been paused…bathing isn’t exactly a high priority.”

She cringes, her nose wrinkling. “So you haven’t had a hot bath in how long?”

I frown, genuinely trying to remember. “You know…I’m not sure.”

Page bites her lip, her teeth tugging at the soft curve, and my attention is immediately captured.

“Would you like to have one?” she asks, her voice quiet but certain.

I tilt my head, giving her a small, amused smile. “Would this entail both of us being naked?”

She nods, her cheeks flushing slightly, but her gaze doesn’t waver. “That’s…kind of the idea, yeah.”

My smile widens, warmth blooming in my chest at her boldness, her ease. This woman, in all her impossible contradictions, never ceases to surprise me.

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