Chapter 28 #2
Oaklin and Lior fell silent, staring at one another, then burst into laughter. Once their cheeks were wet with mirthful tears, they crashed together, holding each other in silence as Oaklin’s mind filled with visions of what the winter could be.
“I’m in love with you,” Oaklin whispered against Lior’s shoulder. “I hope that’s okay.”
Lior’s answering chuckle was more felt than heard, moving through her body in a soothing vibration.
“So much more than okay,” she murmured, stepping back to look into Oaklin’s eyes. “I love you too. I didn’t want to get too intense, too soon, but it’s been an intense year, hasn’t it?”
Oaklin, smiling so wide it was hard to talk, had to agree. “Couldn’t have ended much better, though.”
Lior was hanging up her sword for good. Oaklin was wrapping up their first season as a farmer.
It was a time for endings…but for beginnings too.
The two of them left the temple, much more comfortable coming than going, reaching the village square just as a burst of cheers went up around the bonfire.
As the whole crowd began to dance around the fire, singing at the top of their lungs, Lior pulled Oaklin close.
“Want me to teach you this dance?” Lior asked. “It’s one of my favorites.”
Oaklin leaned up to press a kiss to Lior’s lips, then drew her backward toward the fire.
“Show me how it’s done,” they said with a grin.
After, Oaklin and Lior met up with their other friends and celebrated late into the night despite the cold.
Delicious food, dancing until their feet ached, so much joy Oaklin thought it might keep them warm all winter—Oaklin was willing to bet that even if they could remember every moment of their life, this evening would have still been the happiest one of the bunch.
It was made all the better by one important fact: that Oaklin, for the first time in far, far too long, had absolutely nothing to fear.
Let the Inquisitor try to return. Let her cast the curse again.
Now, Oaklin knew: Their community would love them and lift them up regardless.
And Oaklin would make sure to spend the rest of their life proving that the community could rely on them too.
Eventually, the friends all went their separate ways. Ryn and Jules went off to their lodgings either separately or together, Oaklin couldn’t tell. Dara disappeared into the alleyways leading toward the woods, exchanging a strange, loaded glance with Sister Talla on the way out.
And Oaklin and Lior, along with Grumpy Horse, walked past the statue of Old Mossley, past the bakery, and past the edge of the cobblestones onto the long, dusty road to the little old farmhouse north of the village.
***
Back at the house, Oaklin and Lior put Grumpy Horse in the barn for the night and checked on the other animals. Daffodil greeted them both with her typical flood of love, practically vibrating with excitement at their return.
Lior bent to provide vigorous ear rubbing, cooing her words to Daffodil. “Oh, you’re such a good girl. Yes, I’m so happy to see you! You’ll be seeing a lot more of me this winter, girl. Are you okay with that?”
Daffodil flopped down and promptly presented her belly for tummy rubs, which Lior obliged with delight.
“Pretty sure that means yes,” Oaklin said, watching the two of them with a smile.
Once Lior could bear to drag herself away from Daffodil, Oaklin guided her back to the house, both stumbling and utterly exhausted from the market and festival…
but not too exhausted to find their way into the bedroom together.
After being around so many other people all evening, it was a blessing to be alone, to press kiss after kiss onto that mouth Oaklin had spent way too much time dreaming about.
But it was the salty tang of Lior’s skin that really set a fire low in Oaklin’s belly.
They uncovered inch after inch of territory that had been hidden from them by all that paladin armor, and every discovery was glorious. They wanted to experience every flavor.
Turned out Lior tasted better than anything at the bakery.
***
Oaklin and Lior buckled down for the winter together and fell into a rhythm.
Things weren’t perfect; the darkness still found them both on plenty of long, cold nights.
Oaklin still had massive gaps in their memory, and nightmares that broke their heart and tore them from sleep.
Lior had her share of nightmares too and days when her gaze felt unable to catch on anything, where she seemed hundreds of miles away.
They stood watch over each other, held vigil, gave care, so that the hard days could eventually give way to the other sorts of time they shared: nights reading by the fire together, lunches with Jules and Ryn, days that promised the coming spring, and nights that were plenty warm no matter the snow.
Most of the time, Oaklin missed Emiline fiercely.
Sharing a bed with Lior was not one of those times.
At least they didn’t have to worry about peeping ghosts.
Still, Oaklin kept hoping for a mysterious tin of tea to appear or something else to confirm that Emiline was still out there, watching over them.
Nothing ever did.
Every once in a while, though, when Oaklin was getting particularly frustrated out in the fields or edging a little too close to one of their less-frequent-but-still-present panic attacks, the wind would blow in an insistent sort of way, always directly in their face.
It felt like a scolding, somehow. Real or not, they were grateful for it. For the reminder.
Emiline was gone, but her words and lessons lived on. Spring would be there before they knew it.
And, of course, they had Lior.
Oaklin was going to be okay.
Granny Emiline would have been proud of them both.