12. Vaelin
Chapter twelve
Vaelin
M y place isn’t anything impressive–in fact, I would describe it more as a hovel than anything else. But that doesn’t matter as I pull Theo through the streets of Hearthwynd.
The only thing that matters is that my hovel has a warm fire and a bed big enough for…okay, maybe not for two when he’s in the picture.
We’ll figure it out.
I can barely focus on anything except the warmth of Theo’s hand in mine and the kiss still lingering on my lips. It’s like I’ve stepped into another world without trying–the world with Theo in it, apart from the world without him.
The thing is, it doesn’t scare me.
It’s exhilarating.
Theo doesn’t say much, and neither do I. Every glance feels too charged to risk it, every touch. I slip on the ice at one point and Theo catches me, both of us laughing hysterically.
I don’t have any self-consciousness until we get to the door, and I remember this place is kind of a dump. I didn’t expect to bring anyone here tonight–this is going better than I could have possibly imagined–so it isn’t clean either.
But Theo is standing there, and the snow is falling, and his amber eyes are on me…and I know there’s no point in keeping him out. No point in pretending.
I unlock and open the door.
“It’s not much,” I say as Theo steps inside. “Pretty much all I could afford.”
I go to the lantern by the door and use a touch of magic to light the wick. The flickering glow spills across the room, illuminating the overstuffed old chair in the corner (a gift from my folks), the shelves crammed with books, trinkets, and old spell components I keep telling myself I’ll sort someday. The table is cluttered with half-finished projects, scraps of parchment, and little mementos (stolen objects) I’ve kept over the years.
It’s my life in a pile of junk.
And Theo seems completely enamored.
He looks around, the top of his head brushing the ceiling. “What do you mean it’s not much?” he says. “This is great!”
“Didn’t you grow up in a palace?” I ask with a short laugh as I go to the hearth. I light that with another snap of my fingers, watching the embers heat up and crackle to life. The snow is starting to come down harder outside, making the fire ever more appealing.
“Yeah, but I didn’t really have a space of my own,” he says. “And what I did have was purchased by my father since I never went out. So…I appreciate all your stuff .”
I almost cackle at that. My stuff is the bane of my mother’s existence–the one time she ever visited, she said I really needed to start considering decluttering. But having Theo compliment it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, so I bask in that glow.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask. “We could sit by the fire…”
Take him to bed , my dirty mind screams at me.
Not yet. I don’t want it to be like that with him.
“A drink would be great,” he says.
I move to the tiny little kitchen and grab the kettle, then I hang it over the hearth. “I’ve got tea,” I tell him. “All kinds. Peppermint, cinnamon spice…”
“Whatever you’re having,” Theo says, now fully invested in looking around.
“Peppermint it is,” I say, trying to sound casual as I grab two mugs from the cupboard. One of them is chipped, and the other has a weird stain on the handle that I’ve never managed to scrub off, but they’ll do. Theo is still looking around, his expression one of pure curiosity, like every trinket and scrap of parchment in this place holds some kind of magic. His massive frame makes the apartment look even smaller than it is, but he doesn’t seem uncomfortable.
And it gives me a chance to really look at him for the first time since I laid eyes on him last night. He’s hung his cloak by the door and he’s wearing a white tunic and breeches–all clean, spotless in fact. Wherever he spent the night, they took good care of him. And those clothes…they hug his figure just right. He’s got to be about three hundred pounds of solid muscle, broad-shouldered, and I can see the sparkle of dark red hair on his chest where his tunic parts at the throat…
“Uh…Vaelin, I think the kettle is boiling.”
I snap my gaze to the hearth, where the kettle is bubbling like mad. I rush over and grab it with a neatly embroidered mitt, then I pour it over the tea leaves.
Theo watches me the whole time, a slight blush on his cheeks.
“So where did you spend the night last night?” I ask as I wait for the tea to steep. “I thought you were broke.”
He blushes brighter, and I have this sinking feeling he found some other cute elf to put him up…but he shakes his head. “You’re going to be annoyed.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Because I went back to your family’s bakery.”
I gape at him for a second, jaw dropping. “Wait–seriously?”
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he shrugs. “So they put me up, we had some apple tart–”
“Of course you had some apple tart.”
“--and then I actually slept in your room,” he finishes. “Your mother even washed my clothes for me.”
That’s when I catch sight of it–a little flower embroidered on the collar of Theo’s tunic, my mother’s trademark.
They’re all so nice…he fits right in.
I don’t say anything, looking down into the tea instead, and Theo clears his throat. “Are you upset?”
“No,” I say. “I’m glad you had a safe place to go, I’m just…I wish they’d told me.”
“I asked them not to,” he admits. “I wasn’t sure if I would meet up with you again tonight. Wasn’t sure if I was ready to forgive you.”
“So what’s the verdict?” I ask.
He comes closer, passing by the hearth, then he reaches down and tilts my chin up. “I think you’re forgiven,” he says in a low rumble.
Then he’s kissing me…and I don’t care about the tea anymore.
All I care about is him.