Page 40 of Fate

The main door was trickier to navigate. There were the large double doors that were nearly twice her height. Then a smaller one, its latches and bolts not nearly so thick. A door within a door. Well oiled, which made her retreat an easier feat. As if even the tower thought it best for her to leave.

She went upward. Didn’t bother with running through the streets first, getting lost in the tangle of towers and shops and little homes that weren’t worthy of being as tall or as grand as the one she was leaving behind.

Lucian was tugging at the bond. She could feel it, just as surely as she could if he was reaching out to grasp her wrist. But he wasn’t there. He’d let her go, the better to talk with his mother. About this supper. About a family she did not know and people she did not much care to meet.

Which was a lie.

She wanted to meet them, and badly. Wanted there to be smiles and welcome, and there wouldn’t be. Not with all their drivel about birth and heritage.

She was born of the bond. With all the rights and protections that came along with it.

Her dress caught about her legs as she flew. And she was sofrustrated.It did not help that Lucian’s own emotions were flooding into her own. Mingling and overpowering in turn, causing them to turn to anger, as she did not know how to tune them out. To allow herself to simplybe,to feel as she felt and nothing more.

She followed the sea. Saw the fishing boats out on the horizon.

Without conscious thought, she was drawn out further. Past the shore. Past where waves broke. Where water smoothed and the water shone brightly in the light of the suns.

And she plummeted.

Head first. Uncaring of fabric or hair or any of the rest of it. The warmth of the first layer gave way to the shock of cold as she went further down. And there, for a few blissful seconds.

It was only her.

The world was muffled. Her thoughts were dim.

The bond...

It was quiet.

And it couldn’t last. Because already her body was moving her upward, bringing her back to the surface for a full breath.

And she was sorry for it.

Mama would chastise her thoroughly for such morbid thoughts. She had wanted a mate. Now she had him. She could be disappointed all she liked, but this was her bond and her family, and it had grown in ways she might have preferred, but she would have to adjust.

Childish, begrudging thoughts came next. That a man sacrificed for his mate in equal measure. That he should have rebuked his parents for their rudeness to his mate. Thatshecame first. Not the law. Not his apprenticeship. And certainly not his father.

It was not impossible to fly with wet wings, but she would not pretend it was the easiest either. But it did not make her regret her dip into the sea. Even if her dress clung and her hair was tangled, and she couldn’t fly quickly enough to dry either of them.

The suns helped. Helped her spirits, just as the dive had.

She was still... her.

She did not need permission to leave a tower. Did not have to ask and beg to go home.

Walking helped, as well. There were the rueful smiles as she passed neighbours in the streets, their eyes a little wide as they took in her appearance. And perhaps it should embarrass her, and perhaps, it did. But it felt strangely removed from her. As if there was so much more to hold her attention and her thoughts, and most importantly, her worries.

She did not knock on the door when she reached home. Because... it still was. Lucian and the bond did not change that. Everything was so much the same, even if she was different.

“I am home!” she called, uncertain if anyone was there. She’d go to her room if Mama was out visiting. Wash and change before going out to Da in the workshop.

“Kitchen,” Mama called back, and she ignored the stairs in favour of greeting her mother first.

She took her shoes off. They were delicate and ornamented with flowers stitched into the leather slippers. The dyes ran slightly from wetting them, and she was sorry for it.

She left them on the steps to carry up to her room and tend to them before she opened the kitchen door, ready for hugs and a cup of something hot, and maybe even a good cry as her mother listened to all that occurred.

Firen did not expect to find the kitchen occupied by more than her mother. Did not expect to see her seated at the table instead of preparing a midday meal for herself and Da.