Page 16 of Claimed By Stone
“Mm-hmm. What happens when your mysterious statue woman stops being mysterious and starts asking questions?” I leaned forward just slightly, teasing. “Like why a strong, fearsome orc wears his worry like a second cloak?”
Thavros gave a small, rough laugh. “If I wear worry like a second cloak, it’s only because I can’t afford to set it down. Not when my people are still healing.”
He meant it lightly, but the weight beneath it was unmistakable.
“Hmm,” I murmured, unconvinced, though I let him believe I was letting it go. “Well, if you ever want a break from all of this,” I gestured to the scrolls and ledgers, “I’m excellent at distracting people.”
He raised an eyebrow, and for the first time tonight, a genuine smile actually spread across his face. It wasn’t wide or full, but it was there—and Gods, it was worth the effort.
I wandered around the table, curiosity pulling me toward the sprawl of parchment. “Mind if I take a peek?”
“Of course not. Though I warn you, it’s mostly numbers and maps and?—”
“Worry in ink form,” I teased, before bending to examine one of the scrolls. My fingers brushed a symbol inked into the margin, a curved design, unfamiliar yet… sharp. Something in my chest tightened.
My hand froze.
That mark. I didn’t know it. Not truly. But something about it felt ominous.
Cold bloomed beneath my skin, stark and sudden. A flicker, not even a memory, more like the ghost of one, rose behind my eyes. Not a sound, not a face. Just fear. Justwrong.
“What is it?”
“That mark, what is it?”
“It is a mark of Fae Magic. Is it familiar to you?”
I blinked hard. My heart thudded, too fast. “Sorry,” I said quickly, pasting on a smile as I straightened. “Just had a peculiar… moment. Have you ever looked at something and felt like your brain took a wrong turn?”
He stepped toward me; concern etched across his features. “What did you see?”
“Nothing,” I said too fast. Then, softer, “Really. Probably just… one of those déjà vu moments.”
The worry on his face didn’t ease.
I leaned in, nudging his elbow gently. “Don’t start addingmeto one of your worry-scrolls. I’m here, I’m fine, and I amdefinitelydistracting.”
I winked, though inside, the shadow still pulsed like a bruise I couldn’t see.
“Do you remember anything? I wish I knew your name.”
“I wish you did too,” I shrugged, a sigh threading through the words as I moved to join him at the table.
As I sat, my leg brushed his—warm, solid, and unmistakably real. Instinct told me to pull back, but the contact grounded me in a way I didn’t want to lose.
“I can’t tell you who I am,” I said, watching the way the candlelight softened his features, “but maybe you can tell me whoyouare?”
He gave a huff of a laugh. “I’m no one. Just the bookish brother of the chieftain.”
I scoffed. “That is hardly ‘no one’. You’re much more than that. I’ve watched you longer than you realize. Night after night, poring over maps and reports. I’ve only just learned how to move, but I’ve beenawakemuch longer. You’re someone. And yet I don’t even know your name.”
That earned me another smile—and Gods, the way it transformed his face felt like watching sunrise break over stone.
“I am Thavros,” he said with a soft dip of his head.
“Thavros.” I tasted the word, slow and reverent. It curled around something in my chest and held tight. “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard a more perfect name in all my life, however long or short that may have been.”
His gaze locked on mine again, and the awe returned brighter, sharper. But then something in it darkened. He looked almost… haunted.
