Page 45 of Fate
They couldn’t stand there forever. But the thought of parting, of what might come after, made her even more reluctant to let him go.
“I like when you are kind to me.”
Her arms had found their way about him of their own accord, and she squeezed him tightly to punctuate her declaration.
“I am the reason you cried,” Lucian reminded her, and there was something in his tone that suggested it bothered him a very great deal.
“Sometimes a person needs a good cry,” Firen countered, wishing to comfort him. But... there was also the need to be honest with him. To not cover over her hurts simply to reassure him. “But yes, you were.”
Even if he did not kiss her, she placed a kiss on his covered chest, wet through by her tears. She would not apologise for them. He should be more careful of her feelings if her upsets troubled him so.
His hands left their place about her waist to settle on her shoulders. They were to talk more, then. Necessary, but she found she hated it. “I love my mother.” He said it gravely. Almost as a warning.
She did not ask what sort of child did not. She did not allow her mouth to twist at talk of beauty and silence and proper mates and birthright. Strangers, the lot of them. And she could be gracious.
But she would not pretend she had no feelings, no needs. “As I love mine,” Firen said instead. “I hope...” she paused,reminding herself that insult would help neither of them. “I am sorry I was not there to introduce you.”
And it was true. Had she known he would follow so quickly, she would have allowed nothing to delay her. Another piece of her fantasies that did not come to be. Of bringing him home and showing him off, beaming with pride at what was hers.
But those were daydreams. And Lucian was real, and so was their bond—messy as it was.
“They were very polite. As was I, in case that was your true question.”
Firen gave a sheepish sort of smile. “Maybe,” she hedged. “We should go back down.”
His hands fell away from her shoulders as he nodded, but she took one between hers before he could get too far away. If contact was what they needed to keep from quarrelling, so be it.
She made for the door, her arm reaching out behind her as Lucian remained stationary.
“Firen,” he began, his expression serious. “I do not know what home I have to offer you. I do not know where your dress will be washed, whether by you or by the service we employ.” Aservice? Her heart raced a little just to imagine it. “I expect all will be made perfectly clear this evening. If... if you will attend with me.”
He was asking. Not assuming. He was looking at her as if he was already expecting her answer to be no. That she would keep to her pride and what remained of her dignity and allow him to attend without her on principle.
She squeezed his hand, because...
That was the sort of mate she was.
“All right,” she agreed. Mind racing with thoughts of clothing and deportment. Mama would help. Mama could fix anything. “Tea with my family, first.”
And he didn’t grumble.
Which, Firen thought, counted for rather a lot.
5. Supper
She was in a dress shop.
Intellectually, she’d known they existed. Just because she had two parents that could craft and made such places wholly unnecessary did not mean everyone held those same advantages.
Some had to stand on this strange circle in the middle of a shop, while measurements were taken with a long strip of cording. Prodded at and viewed in a critical eye while a man and woman fluttered about and clicked their tongues at everything they saw.
While Lucian watched, as if this was natural.
Which it was. Would be.
Might be.
But if they made one word against the clothes she’d fashioned for herself, or her embroidery, or the special way she cut the cuffs of her tunic so she could add little flounces to the hems just because she liked the way they moved...