Page 80 of Antiletum
Really. He shouldn’t have. Whatever the gift is, I will only destroy it and leave the pieces scattered across his bed.
Val smiles lovingly at me. “There’s nothing that could ever stop me from showering you with gifts.” The intensity in his eyes says everything he hasn’t: He isn’t upset with me for destroying the painting. He understands, becauseof coursehe does. And he is completely undeterred.
Pink deepens across my cheeks. With any luck, it’s hidden in my already blazing face, thanks to the summer sun.
No such luck, it’s noticed. Val’s smile widens and he leans down—ever so slowly—to gently nudge the tip of my nose with his while simultaneously stroking my heated cheek with his thumb. A quiet, intimate gesture, too much like we shared in his owl form. It nearly knocks my legs out from under me. Reminding me that I hold one of his deepest secrets, and he couldn’t be happier that I finally know.
Roarke sighs with impatience, shattering the moment.
Val reluctantly leans away and motions his steward forward, a large black box in his white gloved hands. Val takes it from him dutifully, not allowing another person to present the gift to me. He lays it out on the center of the table, careful not to crush the centerpieces of summer wildflowers or spill the lingering glasses of lemonade, sweating as profusely as my own neck.
Hinges are silent as my husband lifts the lid, revealing an ebony wood croquet set inside, so stunning it steals the breath straight from my lungs as effectively as the hands of a reaper.
On the faces of the mallets are etchings of barn owls, wings spread wide. Tiny, silver mirror images of the tattoo sprawling over Val’s back. Over both of our clothing, signifying us as Lord and Lady. It’s obvious that the role was always meant to be Val’s. He very well may be the only barn owl shifter to exist since the very days of theNocturnebeing put to rest.
An impossibility. A miracle.
Shaky fingers reach out to stroke the black wood, the silver accents, absorbing the craftsmanship through touch as astutely as through sight. I simply cannot stop myself. All Val’s gifts have been thoughtful, but this particular one is tugging at me with a fierceness because of my love for croquet and how that facet of myself was always deliberately, poignantly ignored. Just like anything else that might have indicated I had a personality all my own.
Selise gasps beside me, equally impressed. “Val, those are beautiful.”
“Pale in comparison to the radiance of their owner,” he responds seamlessly, brushing his fingers across my lower back. Sweet. Reverent.
“Valledyn.” I’m dumbfounded. “This is exuberant.” Not quite as eloquently put as I had intended,too much; over the top; too thoughtfuland knowing of my likes and interests for me to be comfortablewould have been much better options.
“I disagree.” His black eyes glint. Incredibly pleased with himself. I love the croquet set far more than I should ever love anything Val had a hand in. And he knows it. “Nothing is too much for mywife.”
I roll my lips together, biting back a confounding smile through the fire roaring in my stomach, only acknowledging the heat of my hatred, and not that deep simmer that Val keeps managing to stoke. He grins wider, pulling me into his side. “I adore giving you gifts. But you already know that, don’t you?”
A (not entirely convincing) bored drawl breaks our intensity. “Yes,” Roarke says. “Congratulations on your incomprehensible marriage. We’re alldelightedthat you two odd souls managed to find each other.” With a cruel smirk, he adds, “No wonder so much death carved the path to your wedding ring, being masters of it yourself. How arcane of you.”
The air around us grows chilly, Val’s hold on my waist tightening. His short lived offense melts away into arrogance. “Yes. I daresay my wife and Ihavebeen set apart. And found ourselves exactly where we were always meant to be. As have you and your father.”
“Indeed,” Roarke replies curtly. Flat. “Now, if you’re quite finished harassing your bride with expensive gifts in a public display, may we play?”
Roarke’s statement brings to my attention that while our party may have abandoned us, being in the know of the tension between the two, a group of civilian spectators have joined. The energy of the crowd is light, happy. Pleased to see the loving display between their new symbols of hope—two people who have defied the odds, clawed their way out of undesirable lives.
“You can put to use your pretty new set, my Lady.” Roarke indicates his head towards the box on the table.
I pluck up a black and silver mallet, weighing it in my hand before holding it out to Val.
“You would allow me to borrow one?” he asks, pleasantly surprised.
“Obviously. Why else would I be holding it out to you?”
He chuckles, biting his lip to barely suppress a wide grin at my snark. “I’m honored,” Val says proudly, brushing his fingers over mine deliberately as he takes the mallet.
Lacing my arm through Selise’s, I smile, my attention directed at Val, and Val alone. “I think I’ll sit this one out. I don’t think my dear husband is quite prepared for the rivalry that may brew withme.”
21
I forgot about Tabitha
Val
The reek of piss, sweat, and ale-soaked stomach bile is thick in the evening humidity, smoke-grey clouds billowing in the promise of a storm. Summer rain in Omnitas is as unfailing as the springtime droughts. Shadows of spires and tall arches are cast across the rooftops, scattered over the streets.
Owls hoot and screech their song to the night sky. Across the world, foxes and big cats are exiting their daytime dwellings just the same. The same as theNocturneonce did, giving their people the opportunity to own the day as humans and the night as animals. When possibilities were endless.
