Page 77 of A Song of Shadow and Starlight

The second I step inside, I find myself in complete awe. If I thought the outside was beautiful, the inside is breathtaking. The foyer is spacious and opens up to a cozy sitting room with a mix of red brick and black painted walls, white curtains, a marble mantle over the fireplace, and four comfy leather armchairs with a circular coffee table in the center. The wide-plank hardwood floors run the length of their row house and invite me deeper inside.

The grand u-shaped wooden staircase separates the sitting and dining rooms. Large enough to accommodate six guests, the walnut dining table is surrounded by white cloth chairs and a black table runner down the center. Fresh dahlias in a glass vase are the center piece underneath a simple gold chandelier. I force myself to keep walking, eyeing the beautiful artwork hung at different levels along the wall to my right. Some pieces are oil paintings of landscapes, while others are charcoal sketches of people, buildings, and flowers.

I push through a door that swings back into place and find myself in the most incredible kitchen I've ever laid my eyes on. The black walls and red brick combination have continued to the back of the house. In the center of the black and white tile scullery, a decent sized island with a butcher block counter sits with cutting knives inserted through the top. Black lower cabinets sit along three walls and the base of the island. White stone countertops have copper containers strategically placed in a couple of corners and floating wooden shelves with neatly stacked white dishes and mugs complete the space.

If I knew how to cook or bake, I'm sure I'd be screaming with excitement. Maybe, I could learn while I'm here?

I look at the very back wall of the row house where four windows with a glass door in the center opens up to a moderately sized backyard. No grass that I can see, but there is a patio, and it hosts a firepit, lounge chairs, and a dedicated section to grow herbs and vegetables in elevated wood planter boxes. Fresh flowers, including the same dahlias that are on the dining room table, are in flower boxes along the black iron fence. A small marble fountain spews water, making the tiny backyard seem more like a relaxing oasis.

"Finn's the cook," Atlas startles me.

I forgot he was technically showing me around the Harland House. I turn to look at him leaning against the countertop closest to the door, arms folded across his chest.

"Our mother wanted us to have creative hobbies to offset our magic and warfare training. Finn took to gardening and is by far the best chef in Tronovia. It also helps when he's at his apothecary shop making his balms and tinctures from his own produce."

I wondered what the brothers' parents were like, but to hear Atlas talk about his mother and her desire for her sons to have a creative outlet intrigues me.

"So, if Finn's hobbies are cooking and gardening," I stare at him, genuinely curious, "what are yours and Nyx's creative outlets?"

He tucks his hands into his pockets and motions for me to follow him. "I'll show you."

We walk back inside the house to the staircase between the dining andsitting rooms. I have no idea where the others have gone, but I don't ask. I'm too curious to see what Atlas Harland's hobby is. I traipse up the stairs behind him, letting my fingers graze the mahogany railing. We make it to the second floor where there's an office with a heavy wooden desk and a velvet upholstered chair. When I turn the corner, I realize this level is designated as a library with an inviting leather sofa. Floor to the ceiling shelves are filled with different color spines. There are a couple window seats with dark velvet cushions that overlook the street, and at the front end of the room is a grand piano that gleams in the afternoon sunlight.

I let myself soak this room in. It's a space I would kill to have in Midori. It's cozy, inviting, and filled with so many books, I couldn't possibly read them all in ten lifetimes. I make my way to the piano and slide my fingers across the top. Not a lick of dust anywhere in this house, which seems impossible, considering the Harlands and Eris haven't been here in a couple of months. I haven't seen a servant, but with fresh flowers on the table and the house being spotless, someone must have prepared the place for their return.

"Nyx plays the piano." Atlas walks toward the piano and plucks a couple keys. "Don't tell him I said this," he doesn't look in my direction, "but he's actually very good. I like listening to him play when he's up late at night and needs to relax."

I laugh, knowing Nyx well enough to know the compliment would inflate him so much, he would float away.

"Noted," I say, drawing a warm grin from him.

We haven't been alone in days, ever since the night I spent in his cabin. I can still feel the ghost of his arms around me, tugging me close. I can feel him breathing in rhythm with me and his scent on the pillows and sheets. Is it weird to miss someone even when they're standing right in front of you?

"Your room is on the third floor." His voice slices through my thoughts and I quietly follow him up another level.

He points to a door on our left. "Eris' room." He then points to the door at the end of the hall, with a view of the backyard, "Nyx's room." He leads me to the door to our right with a view of the street in front of the rowhouse and opens the door for me to walk inside. "This is our guest room. It's yours for as long as you want it."

The view from the third floor is breathtaking. I can see all the people in the plaza below and the park diagonally across the street. The canal is to my left and the cafe is below, teasing me, daring me to become a regular patron.

The room is not even a quarter of the size of my room in Midori, but it is warm and decorated nicely. It's true to the aesthetic of the rest of the house, black paint and red brick walls, with wood, marble, and gold finishes. The bed has a beautiful iron headboard, black and white sheets, and is large enough for two people to sleep comfortably. There's a wood dresser, an armchair in the corner – which will most likely become my reading nook – and a fireplace, with a similar marble mantle to the one in the sitting room, across from the bed. There's a painting of a cabin in the woods that overlooks a frozen lake hung above the fireplace. Narrow windows with white curtains finish the space, and I'm oddly impressed with the Harland brothers' style.

"It's beautiful," I turn around and nearly collide into Atlas' chest. I take a step back to put a pocket of distance between us. "Thank you."

"For what?" he cocks his head to the side, letting his dark hair fall across his face.

I shrug uncomfortably. "I don't know. Not throwing me in a dungeon somewhere. Letting me stay in your home, which is stunning by the way."

He looks surprised by my gratitude and compliments, but whatever he's thinking, he keeps to himself. "You're welcome."

"Do you have a maid or butler or something?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"The fresh flowers on the dining table, no weeds in the garden, no dust on the bookshelves or piano," I flash a tight-lipped smile. "You haven't been home in a while; someone must have kept this place clean while you were gone."

"Very observant of you." He smiles, nodding in approval. "We pay a cleaning crew to come in a couple times a week, whether we're in or out of town. Eris is a stickler for having fresh flowers throughout the house, so Finn grows dahlias for her, and the cleaners replace them when they come."

We stare at one another in silence. I wish I could read his mind. The way he's looking at me sets my body and soul on fire.

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