Quincy
“An invitation,” he echoed, turning to look at her. “But we are both...”
“Yes, and I told you; you are my family. We can forget about the rest of it.” She laughed, and by now he knew her well enough to hear the strain. “Valgar certainly won’t mind picking up the slack, will he?” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.
“Would you like some time to think on it?” she asked, like she’d read his mind.
He would not have sworn that she couldn’t, somehow, even though she wasn’t gifted at any kind of magic.
They spoke of a problematic servant and how to deal with the shortage of workers to bring in the harvest—thanks to Valgar’s grandfather there were plenty of water mages of the lower classes who could be recruited to the war effort.
“Sometimes I think they should be honoured for it, but then, shouldn’t every person fighting for us be held in higher esteem than those of us staying behind?”
“What?” Quincy asked. “It’s not like we chose to stay behind. Besides, who is raising the children who will one day become soldiers? Not to mention ensuring the harvest gets brought in so everyone has something to eat?”
Mar laughed softly, not a happy sound. “You are right, of course. I just... My sister’s husband died at the front last month.”
Quincy stared at her. “You did not say.”
She shrugged a little, hunching in her seat. He stood up and approached, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Mar...”
“I...” Her breath hitched and she turned her face away, and that he couldn’t allow; for her to think that she had to hide her pain from him, that she was alone with it. He brought her closer, leaning in so her head rested against his arm.
Mar didn’t hesitate at all, leaning into him and grabbing his elbow, inhaling deeply into something that was on the verge of a sob.
“You can cry,” he assured her.
“It wasn’t— It’s not my place,” she mumbled, but she let him pull her to her feet and properly envelop her. He’d missed this, holding someone safe in his arms.
“Nonsense.” Quincy traced her tresses slowly. “Your heart is big enough for multitudes, of course you would be upset at losing your brother-in-law.”
She huffed and pushed him back. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she wasn’t crying. She looked angry. “I’m not upset about him, Quincy. Or I am, of course. But I’m terrified because my sister is speaking of joining up. She is gifted and she fears—”
Mar didn’t often speak of her birth family, air mages from the province of Elria, higher still in the mountains surrounding Saran. The power to control the winds was important when your enemy sailed to you. So important that omegas could volunteer for service if their gift was strong enough.
Once upon a time, he’d envied them the choice, but now he could imagine what he might have done in the endless nights after he’d lost Yara.
“That she will be asked to bond again?” He guessed and Mar jumped a little.
“Oh, Quincy, I’m so— I don’t mean to say— Damnation, I am being insensitive.”
He managed to grab her fluttering hand off the air, squeezing to get her attention. “Mar!”
She stopped, looking stricken.
It took him a moment to realise why. “Oh, you mean because I...” He remembered his own dread at the prospect.
He hadn’t forgotten Valgar’s actions upon first meeting, either, but that did not change his actions after that.
Or Mar’s. “It is not something I could wish upon anyone,” he admitted, slow, like the words were being pulled out of him by some force he could not resist. “But I would not... I would not choose war over this.” As soon as he’d said, he realised the absurdity of it and laughed, raising his eyes to Mar’s, who was letting him hold onto her without saying a word.
“If it wasn’t for—” He glanced down meaningfully.
“You make me happy. You and Valgar. I didn’t know I wasn’t, before I came.
I was content and busy and that was enough.
But you...” He swallowed, caught in her green eyes, full of the same inexplicable intensity that lived in his own chest.
His hand was on her cheek, tracing the lines of strain next to her eyes he had not noticed before. “Did you tell Valgar?”
And even before her mouth twisted, he knew she had not.
“That won’t do,” he told her firmly. “Have you not allowed yourself to mourn at all?”
Mar sighed under his hand. “We had only just found out about... you.”
Oh.
Quincy had spent a good week as little more than a ghost, with both of them making up excuses to keep him company and get him to leave his rooms. He’d noticed Valgar closing the bond to almost nothing here and there, surely so he could take the time to deal with his own emotions.
It was not a surprise to discover that Mar had kept herself strong throughout while they floundered.
“I understand,” he told her now. “But it truly won’t do. Perhaps you could have waited a day or two to tell Valgar, but it’s been over a month. Mar, if I am your family, then you are mine. I am here for you as well.”
She was looking up at him, lips parted, and something simply twisted beyond its bearing inside and broke. He rested his forehead against hers, breath coming too fast. “Okay,” he said, so low it would have been lost if she had not been so close.
Her small hand was firm on his own cheek, and it was easy to close his eyes and let himself be led until their lips brushed together, a tease of sorts until she pulled and they were kissing properly.
She bit at his lip, and he licked at her mouth, and it was new and different; he had never kissed an omega before.
Her lips were soft, and she was enthusiastic, but wasn’t instinctively taking control.
And without that, he found neither was he. He pulled her close until they were flush together, burning for it and she laughed breathlessly when she felt his reaction against her belly.
Quincy forced himself to step back, face on fire. “I...”
But Mar was grinning, green eyes sparkling. “That I really don’t mind,” she assured him, and then they were both laughing.