CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT #4
The noise that escaped Sera was strangled, and her movements were slow as she stood and backed away from the table.
I thought her actions were the precursor to another outburst, but when my gaze flitted to hers, I saw the wetness gathering at the edges of her emerald eyes.
There was a palpable sadness pulling her beautiful lips down.
What’s more, she stared not at me, but at Vayen and the blank slate that had wiped her features clean.
“You?” Sera said finally to me, brow indenting with apparent confusion. When she repeated the word, it was throaty with disgust. “She bonded you?”
“I—I don’t—”
“What on Morwyn could be so special about you, that she would risk…” It was then that something fell into place for Sera. I could see it in her eyes, the way they widened as her brow dropped. “Oh my Goddess.”
When Vayen stood, both of us flinched. In my preoccupation with Sera, I’d forgotten that Vayen had been little more than the taut string of a drawn bow, vibrating with tension that couldn’t have escaped a single patron of the tavern, all of whom now stared.
The breath hovering in my lungs came out through puffed cheeks when I saw that Vayen seemed herself again.
Not a pleased version of herself, if the thin line of her lips and the pulsing in her jaw were to be trusted, but even her displeasure was preferred to the empty shell she embodied when threatened.
“We are done,” Vayen said with finality. The line carving down her arm flexed in the candlelight, ending at a clenched fist. “She is nothing more to me than a relative of Catrin. I am nothing more to her than an escort up the mountain. You would do well to remember that.”
But something had shaken Sera, and I doubted she registered Vayen’s words as she spun on her heel and fled from the tavern without another word.
It wasn’t long before Haize cleared his throat and filled the charged silence with the deep rumble of his voice.
“Apologies for the disturbance. Come see me for a brew before you leave, no coin required.” He held his massive palm up for all to witness, a glowing glyph carved into his skin clearly conveying a meaning I was not privy to.
But I, decidedly, did not need more drink.
The amount I’d consumed and the speed with which I’d consumed it had sent a pleasant warmth unspooling through my limbs, and I felt rather loose and unbothered by all that had transpired.
In fact, my thoughts were primarily concerned with citrus peel cookies and whether a glyph warmed the bed I hoped to be cozying into shortly.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m ready for this day to be finished,” I said, snatching up the linen bag of cookies and standing to my full height. “That woman was thoroughly unpleasant, by the way. But I accept the apology you offered in advance.”
“Kind of you to do so,” Vayen muttered. She rubbed the back of her neck, and even I could see the worry indenting the middle of her forehead and the corners of her eyes. She hesitated like that for a moment before seizing her mug and tipping it back, throat bobbing with each gulp.
I doubted that what troubled her troubled me.
I stood there quietly, wondering if the bonding Sera accused us of was the moonbond Ekko had begged Winnie for.
Whatever that was, it sounded more intimate than any ritual I’d ever heard of.
What would make Sera think Vayen and I had undergone such a thing?
If Vayen hadn’t looked so strange in that moment—almost unsure of herself, if I had to guess—I might have asked. But I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
When Vayen began downing the contents of Sera’s forgotten mug, a far more intrusive question flew right from my mouth before I had a chance to consider its impropriety.
“So, you two were lovers?” With that, I summoned her back to the present moment.
“A long, regrettable time ago,” she managed, slamming Sera’s mug down and scooting her stool underneath the table with her foot.
“Not fond memories, then?” I joked. I held the linen bag to my chest, inhaling the nostalgic scent of citrus peel.
A small laugh escaped Vayen, and I found myself returning her smile easily, the realities of our situation all but forgotten under the golden haze of inebriation and our shared distaste for that woman.
As we ascended the tavern’s staircase to our room in silence, Vayen notably walking behind me this time rather than leading the way, I continued cycling through the evening’s events, trying to sift through the new information that tumbled through my near-floating consciousness.
Something extreme had occurred between Vayen and Sera.
Vay-vay, I thought with a snort that I wasn’t questioned on.
What an absurd nickname for someone like Vayen.
She was strength embodied. A woman full of nature, and force.
She captivated people wherever she went, and when she spoke, those same people listened.
She was so much more than Vay-vay. I couldn’t conceive of a version of her that allowed such a ridiculous—
My foot slipped on the step that would have settled me on the top floor, so very near our door. The ground tilted beneath me, and even in my hazy state I outstretched an arm to brace for what would be an embarrassing fall, but a pair of hands encircled my middle before I’d made it halfway.
Vayen managed to pull me against her, my back to her chest for the second time that night, my breath escaping in frantic huffs as I tried to grasp what had just happened.
How was that possible? How had she been close enough to me to catch me before I fell?
I may not have been able to comprehend her reflexes, but I could fathom the warmth of her pressed up against me, drawing forth the thoughts of pleasure and intimacy that Sera had so rudely planted in my mind.
And then, the realization slammed into me full force.
“Vayen,” I croaked, fighting to hold on to my consciousness as drink and energy mingled unfavorably in my stomach.
“Yes?” Her breaths were quick and shallow, almost as if she were breathing me in.
No. Even with her strength, it couldn’t have been easy to catch me mid-fall. That was why she breathed deeply, drawing and releasing warm air against the nape of my neck, summoning the most unwelcome clenching of my lower stomach—she was out of breath, not breathing me in.
She was out of breath.
“Alyssum?” Vayen coaxed my attention back to her, and I reached for the thought that had been poised on the tip of my tongue.
“Nothing,” I forced out as I palmed the banister to regain my footing. If it weren’t for the sheer warmth of her, and the all-consuming way her scent comforted me, I wouldn’t have been able to swallow the realization I was now too embarrassed to speak aloud:
There were two of us.
And only one bed.