Chapter 14 #3
“Can I show you one of my favorite spots on the farm?” they asked.
Lior sprang to her feet with far too much energy and held down a hand to help Oaklin to their feet. “I’d love that. Lead the way.”
Oaklin allowed themself to be pulled to standing, then gestured for Lior to follow the trodden path across the fields.
The carpet of grass and spring weeds cushioned their way as they walked, chickweed and violets bending with every step, so soft Oaklin was tempted to lie down and take an afternoon nap right there in the field. But then Lior said, out of nowhere:
“Clouds are weird.”
Oaklin looked over, confused, and found Lior staring up at the sky as she walked. “They…are? Why?”
Lior grinned, bringing her gaze back down to the ground.
“Ha, that probably felt out of nowhere, right? It’s just that I had a conversation with one of the clerics at the church yesterday about clouds.
I saw one that looked like a rising phoenix, one of the symbols of Gael of the Daytime Sky, and it was so enchanting I wanted to share.
But this cleric, all he had to say was, ‘Gael counsels us to be concerned with the plight of our people, not dreaming with our heads in the clouds.’”
Lior’s lips twisted into a rueful smile as she shook her head. “I just think that what a person says about clouds says a lot about them, you know?”
Oaklin paused, taking that in, then pointed at a large fluffy cloud directly overhead, tiered and spilling over with puffs and whorls. “That one looks like one of Ryn’s frilly cakes.”
Lior’s shoulder bumped against theirs as she glanced up in delight. “You know what? It really does.”
They cloud spotted all the way to the edge of the forest, where a running creek split into several small forks around a tiny island of burgeoning spring wildflowers.
The buds and blossoms waved and bobbed with each stirring of breeze, pops of yellow and pink and fresh floral scent against the backdrop of brown and green mixed forest, whose outermost edge was a mix of scrubby underbrush, wild berry canes, and scraggly young pines.
The tree line was dotted with mushrooms and other fungi that loved the moist creek-flooded earth more than they hated the filtered sunlight, and Oaklin could feel the hum of ant colonies, beetles, worms, and more that sang just beneath the surface.
Ducks marched along the banks in groups, chatting animatedly as they snapped up bugs and splashed in the shallows.
Oaklin breathed in the magic of it all, feeling the vibrant glow and delicate threads of every single plant and creature, a sparkling tapestry overlaying the natural beauty.
Oaklin hopped over to the island, then held out a hand to help Lior across the water—comical, honestly, considering how much longer Lior’s legs were than Oaklin’s—catching a view of the farm stretching far over her shoulder.
The slowly greening fields, the apple trees in full bloom, and the far, faint shadows of distant mountains.
Once they both stood immersed in the flowers and the gentle, fresh scent of the creek, though, Oaklin realized two things: The island was very small, barely large enough for the two of them to stand chest-to-chest; Lior hadn’t dropped their hand yet.
When Oaklin finally spoke, their voice was nearly a whisper, barely audible over the thrum of their own heartbeat kicking faster behind their ribs.
“I love to come out here first thing in the morning when it’s still cool,” they said, eyes closed to better focus on the natural music around them, warbling birds and the gentle trickle of the creek.
“The sound of the water is so soothing. Sometimes I bring breakfast with me and just listen to the forest birds and ducks.”
Lior squeezed Oaklin’s hand as their eyes opened to fix on a waving wildflower, its frilly white petals rimmed in golden sunshine and gossamer magic.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“Of course. You’re welcome,” Oaklin said, turning to Lior…
only to find their faces far closer than they thought.
The moment hung, suddenly suspended as their breath caught, even the thrumming magic around them seeming to fall away as Lior’s gaze dropped to their mouth, then flicked back to their eyes.
A shy smile quirked at the corner of her mouth—a question.
A hesitation. The wanting hit Oaklin like a wave of dizziness, sudden and intense.
“Can I kiss you?” they asked, the words seeming to float from somewhere far away.
Lior’s answering grin was almost painfully sweet.
“Absolutely,” she said.
Oaklin’s heart gave an almost painful swell of anticipation as Lior tipped her chin, hovering just out of reach, their still joined hands half of a circle begging to be closed. Oaklin leaned in too, closing the distance ever so slowly until…
The first time, their lips barely brushed, the lightest catch of bottom lip, the faintest exchange of breath.
Then…more. Solid, sweet, but with a boldness too, a surety that ran straight from Oaklin’s mouth to the tip of every limb like a line of fire, like magic.
They kissed again, and again, never taking it any further, but letting the wanting simmer with possibility, low and slow.
When they finally parted, lips kiss-flushed and tingling, Lior smiled softly.
“Thank you for the date,” she said.
“Thank you for coming out to the farm so it could happen,” Oaklin replied. “This place is really special to me already.”
“I can tell. It’s a unique place.”
Lior paused, looking around the fields as if seeking the source of a strange sound, or noticing something for the first time. The hairs on the back of Oaklin’s neck stood up in warning.
“Funny,” Lior began. “I didn’t notice last time I was here, but your land’s magic is quite potent.”
Oaklin froze, prey scenting predator. Danger, danger, danger. How to respond?
“Oh, ha…really? I…couldn’t tell?” they began, then abruptly changed tactics to deflect with humor when Lior’s brows knit. “Are you sure that’s not just the smell of Grumpy Horse’s droppings? Because the healer said the smell was normal, but I’m not…so sure…”
The joke fell flat. Oaklin trailed off, unsure of where to go from there. Lior cocked her head and studied Oaklin, her expression neutral.
“A farm like this would take some powerful natural magic to tend,” she said carefully. “You must be quite skilled.”
Oaklin wanted so badly to deny it. They opened their mouth to do exactly that.
Horrifically, their eyes flooded with tears before they had the chance.
“No, I’m not… I don’t…”
Oaklin heard the mortifying catch of breath in their throat and pressed their lips together before any more could escape. Lior’s expression crumpled.
“Oh gods, I’m so sorry, Oaklin, I didn’t mean to—”
Oaklin waved the words away for one last ditch effort. “No, I… It’s just the pressure of trying to learn how to manage this place. I’m not… I don’t have magic. I don’t.”
But they could hear it as they crossed the line. They had officially protested too much. Having some amount of magical talent was normal, even somewhat common, and for them to deny it so hard was an obvious tell. Oaklin’s words crumbled into broken, gasped fragments as their breathing sped up.
“Please…please don’t tell anyone. I don’t want…I can’t…”
Lior reached out and took Oaklin’s hand, squeezing hard. “I’m so sorry, Oaklin. It was wrong of me to push. Whatever it is, whatever is making you so determined to hide, I just hope…”
Lior broke off to take a steadying breath of her own. “I want you to know you’re safe with me, okay? You’re safe.”
Safe? Maybe. But as Oaklin fled, sprinting through the fields toward the cottage, they had one thought clear as day.
They didn’t remember much about being a normal human or about how a first date should end.
They didn’t need to, because it obviously wasn’t this.