Chapter 2
Varius woke slowly. It had been so long since he'd woken naturally that he panicked slightly thinking he'd been drugged, shoving upwards in bed. But that bit of adrenaline was enough to clear his head, and he felt—fine, actually.
Given the shape he'd been in, that was practically a miracle. He felt a stab of envy for the power of sorcerous healing.
Then his mind flashed back to Theira's hands on him as part of that healing, and his stomach muscles tightened involuntarily.
That had really happened. Varius felt the blood rushing down to his groin at the mere memory.
So, that was working again, too. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful for that, given how much she'd be able to see.
Varius had been dreaming of her for years, and the little taste he'd had only fired his imagination more.
He needed to be careful, because as the whole empire knew, he was not a man who gave himself by halves. She might only have a use for his body.
Then again, maybe that was all he could hope for, now.
Irritated with his own internal whining, Varius shook his head and scooted to the edge of the bed, looking around for the first time.
Theira had been right—once she'd stopped working on him, she'd barely had time to explain that the potions she'd applied pulled from his own energy to speed his healing before he'd nearly dropped asleep in the chair.
She'd led him to this room, and he'd fallen face first onto the bed and been out in seconds.
He was a poor guest. He'd fix that today.
In the light of day, he took in the room.
All the furniture here—bed, desk and chair, shelves—was wood, too, which had to be on purpose—he'd heard Castle Korossia was all gray rock.
This room had splashes of color—a green blanket, a blue rug.
The shelves were full of books on various crafts—woodworking, pottery—and some small plants.
It made a solid effort at coziness, with all the items a guest might need, but nothing that felt like it carried a sense of Theira's self. Even the plants were too well contained for her. It all gave Varius the impression that she didn't actually know what a feeling of "home" meant.
And why should she? Potential sorceresses were taken from their families as children and brought to the castle to fight for their lives, pitted against each other, and only the most ruthless made it to adulthood.
Even if Theira knew what a house was supposed to look like, she couldn't know what it felt like—and she wouldn't expose herself to someone who was a stranger in her life. And it was all impersonal, clearly intended for a guest.
Which made him wonder: What kind of guests did she receive here?
Varius shook his head at the bolt of jealousy the thought caused. Whoever her friends were, he wasn't going to convince Theira he should count among the number of people she could trust by lying in bed all day.
He didn't deserve to, anyway. He was the one who had brought the war back to her door.
Varius found a neat pile of clothes that turned out to fit him perfectly. He probably shouldn't be surprised, given how close a look she'd gotten yesterday.
Definitely the most enjoyable tailoring session he could recall.
He appreciated the thought, even as taking off his clothes to change shocked emotion into him. Like he was shucking off the last of the empire's hold on him.
Choosing a sorceress.
Starting fresh.
Which reminded him that despite his promise yesterday he hadn't cleaned the floor for her.
Selfishly, he hoped she'd left it, so he could make good on that today.
Once he was as clean and ready as he was getting, he took a breath and opened the door.
Time to start doing something besides dragging Theira down with him.
Varius followed the sound of jars opening and a sizzling pan back to the kitchen.
The walls on his way were all bare, too.
Only the kitchen was different. Like Theira couldn't help overflowing into any space she spent time in.
Or maybe she'd painstakingly drawn herself out of the shell she'd had to build for herself in Korossia.
"Take a seat," Theira said without turning to look at him. "Breakfast is almost ready."
In a kind of daze yet again, Varius brought himself to the same chair he'd occupied yesterday. No blood anywhere.
And the Sorceress Transcendent was cooking for him.
"Can I help?" Varius asked.
Theira froze.
Briefly, only a second before she got a hold of herself, but it was enough to make him feel like an asshole for not offering sooner.
And to make him angry that apparently a person offering to help her was so godscursed rare the very idea shocked her into a visible reaction.
Whoever her guests were, they didn't deserve any more of her than that room gave.
"Thank you, but I'm just about finished," Theira said.
Varius looked around. Sure enough, there was no trace he'd come through here yesterday. "You cleaned up after me."
"I did promise you I could handle a few stains."
So she had.
"Did you expect me to just leave dirt on my floor?" she asked, carrying a plate of food and a steaming mug to the table.
Varius stared at her, heart thumping in familiar excitement at the sight of her like the sorceress he remembered, bright red lips and dark eyeshadow and highlighted cheeks, the magical purple dress and elegant, deadly belt.
She was dressed to kill.
She set the food and tea in front of him like a godscursed restaurant server and turned to leave.
Varius surged to his feet without even looking at the food. "Where can I find us flatware?"
Theira blinked. Blinked twice.
"That drawer." She pointed. "Napkins in that one."
Varius nodded like he'd been given marching orders and snapped to it. Theira watched him for a moment before returning to her station and dishing her own food.
Varius picked the first napkins and flatware out of the drawers, both swirled with vines, and carried them back and distributed them as Theira sat down with her own food.
"Thank you," she said, like she wasn't sure what to make of this.
"Thank you," Varius said, sitting down again, feeling both slightly better for having done something but also like anger was an itch under his skin. He'd done nothing. "The food looks wonderful."
And it did. His plate was piled high with an omelet full of vegetables, sausage, fruit, toast.
"I was hardly going to let you starve after inviting you in."
Varius took a sip of tea first before saying, "And what an easy way to dose me with a potion, too."
Theira smiled. "Too easy, no challenge. It's not as if I want you to decide you need to forage for yourself in my garden."
Varius snorted. "I'd probably kill myself trying."
"It's not all poisonous," she said primly.
He grinned. "In the interest of inspiring you to greater challenge, I admit I probably couldn't tell."
She rolled her eyes. "Soldiers. If you can't stab with it, it's not worth learning about."
He wasn't a soldier anymore. But rather than dwell on that he said, "You're not going to sit there and tell me you can't grow a perfectly normal looking plant that would actually kill me."
Theira smiled like a blow to his chest. "No, I'm not."
Varius felt unreasonably pleased with himself for getting that smile out of her.
She should smile that wickedly all the time, and maybe that was one thing he could do for her.
"I didn't get a good look last night, but it looks like your gardens are expansive and flourishing," Varius said. "Do you grow your own food, along with everything else?"
"Mostly."
"Is that so you'll always know what's poisonous?"
Theira rolled her eyes again, but, he thought, fondly. "As if I couldn't tell if someone else tried to poison me? Please. No, it's mostly convenience."
"Ah. You are pretty far from anything out here." Sausage would keep, but she must use sorcery for the eggs. Had she broken out a few from a precious stash so he could eat something familiar?
Then again, for all he knew he was eating eggs of something other than a chicken that she kept in her basement.
Another thought struck him. "Has the Sorcerer Ascendant pressured people to not sell you food?"
Theira shook her head. "No need. I'm not going to put people in any more danger to help me. The people who built my house are protected, but if I started doing that commonly Tychon would make a point of... challenging that protection."
And the Sorcerer Ascendant was the one person alive who could definitely break it.
Varius frowned, wondering anew about that guest room. But he said, "You said 'mostly'. What else is it?"
Theira considered him for a moment, then shrugged as if it didn't matter. "I like growing things."
The simple statement hit him like a punch in the gut.
Gods. He knew how much she reveled in sorcerous destruction, and he'd be lying if he said he himself didn't take satisfaction in knowing he'd hit an opponent just right to take them out.
But there was another side of her, too, that she was trying to give space to in this house.
She liked growing things.
If he didn't have to kill for the empire, what would he do?
He'd barely considered the question before; it was an impossibility.
Theira had a garden, though, and it was flourishing.
But her house was empty.
"All those craft books in the guest room," Varius said slowly. "Are they for you?"
"Yes, all the guest rooms have books like that. I've hardly read them all, but I thought it was better to have them ready in case the need arises."
"Wait. How many guest rooms do you have? Do you have that many guests out here?"
For all his wondering about her other guests, it was only in this moment that Varius realized he might not be the only one in the house with her.
But Theira's careful expression cut that line of thought off as she said quietly, "You're my first."
Oh. Oh.
His heart ached for her as he realized all at once. "You thought, after you escaped, that others might come to you."