Chapter 17
The deer needed a longer spring.
Talia held the partially assembled toy up to the lamplight, testing the articulation of the leg. The movement was good—smooth, realistic—but lacked the bounce that made Klaus's original design so compelling.
"The tension is insufficient." Klaus appeared at her shoulder, his presence filling the small workshop with heat and the scent of the winter forest. "May I?"
She handed over the deer, watching his huge hands manipulate the delicate mechanisms with a precision that still amazed her. Those same hands could snap bones with casual ease, and yet here they were, adjusting microscopic springs with jeweler's care.
"See here." He indicated the spring assembly. "The coil diameter needs reduction by approximately point three millimeters. The current configuration provides adequate motion but fails to capture the characteristic bound of actual cervidae."
"You're telling me the deer doesn't bounce enough."
"Precisely."
She fought a smile. A week ago, he would have launched into technical explanations about force ratios and compression dynamics. Now he just confirmed her assessment with dry humor threaded through the precision.
Progress. Small but real.
"Can you show me how to adjust it?"
He nodded and cleared a space on the workbench. The workshop was cramped even for her—for someone his size, it qualified as actively hostile. Yet he navigated the cluttered space with ease, knowing which boards creaked, where tools hung, and how to angle his horns to avoid low beams.
He belongs here, she thought, then immediately pushed the thought away because belonging implied permanence and permanence was dangerous to hope for.
She'd returned from the market three days ago, shaken and angry and terrified by Jorund's threats. Klaus had been waiting, and somehow he'd known not to ask questions. He just helped her unload the wagon, admired her traded goods, and suggested they start on the next batch of toys immediately.
Work had been the perfect distraction. The familiar rhythm of shared purpose smoothed the raw edges Jorund had exposed. But Jorund's words still haunted her. The village is starting to notice. Starting to question whether you're fit to care for him.
"Talia."
She blinked. He was watching her with those unsettling blue eyes, the ones that saw too much.
"You are distressed. Your respiration has increased and your focus is compromised."
"I'm fine."
"You are not fine. You have been 'not fine' since returning from the market." He set down the deer with careful precision. "Talk to me."
The words were almost pleading. Strange, coming from someone who'd arrived unable to understand the concept of small talk.
She stared at the half-finished toys scattered across the workbench. Rabbits and deer and one ambitious wolf that kept falling apart because she couldn't quite master the jaw articulation.
"Jorund threatened to take Theo."
He went very still. "Explain."
She told him about the encounter. Jorund's contempt, his comments about the council, the implication that she wasn't fit to be Theo's guardian.
"He's been against me from the start. He thinks I'm just..." She gestured helplessly. "Some city woman playing farmer."
"You are not playing anything." His voice carried an edge of controlled anger.
"You have maintained this homestead for months under difficult conditions.
You have kept Theo fed, safe, and increasingly content.
You have developed new revenue streams through innovative application of available resources. "
"Tell that to Jorund."
"I would be happy to tell Jorund many things." The edge sharpened. "Most of them involving his immediate cessation of hostile action."
Despite everything, she smiled. "You want to beat up a seventy-year-old man?"
"I want to neutralize a threat against you and Theo. Age is irrelevant to threat assessment."
"That's sweet in a deeply concerning way."
He frowned. "I do not understand how threat neutralization qualifies as 'sweet.'"
"Because you care enough to consider violence on my behalf. It's..." She searched for words. "It makes me feel protected. Even if actually beating up Jorund would create more problems than it solved."
"Unfortunate." He returned to the deer, but his movements carried residual tension. "What recourse do you have?"
"Legally? I'm Theo's guardian. Sarah's will was clear about that.
" She picked up a piece of sandpaper, needing something to do with her hands.
"But out here, legal doesn't always matter.
If the council decides I'm unfit, they could make things difficult.
Make me prove competence through evaluations, home visits, oversight. "
"Based on what criteria?"
"Whatever Jorund convinces them matters. My city background. Sarah's death. The fact that Theo was struggling." She ran the sandpaper over the piece, following the wood grain. "He's doing better now, anyone can see that. But if they evaluated us two months ago..."
She didn't finish. Didn't need to.
He set down his tools. "I observed your market trades. You gave away two toys to children who could not pay."
She tensed. Here it came—the criticism she'd been dreading. The confirmation that her choices were illogical, exactly the kind of poor decisions that proved Jorund right.
"That was stupid, wasn't it? We need the trade goods. I should have—"
"It was magnificent."
She blinked. "What?"
"Your decision to prioritize those children's welfare over personal gain." He turned to face her fully. "I have spent my entire life in a culture that values control above all else. Emotional responses are trained out of us because they compromise that control."
"That sounds awful."
"It is logical." He said it as if he were testing an old argument against new evidence. "At least, I believed it was logical. Until I watched you give toys to children who needed them despite your own scarcity."
A lump appeared in her throat. "They were just toys."
"No." He moved closer. "They were hours of your labor. Resources you could have traded for food and supplies. Security against an uncertain winter. You gave them away because you recognized a need greater than your own."
"I couldn't just—" The words stuck. "That little girl’s father died and they have nothing. And the boy with the sick sister..."
"You saw their suffering and responded with generosity despite the personal cost." He was close enough now that she could see the subtle shift in his expression, something softer than his usual careful control. "That requires a form of courage my people do not acknowledge."
"It was just kindness."
"Kindness from scarcity is power." He said it with absolute certainty. "The Tandroki would call your choice weak, but they would be wrong."
She stared at him. This alien who'd crashed into her life only a few weeks ago, who'd viewed emotions as variables to be eliminated.
"You really think that?"
"I observed your decision and recognized a strength I was trained to dismiss." His hand lifted, almost touching her face before stopping. "You are the strongest person I have encountered."
Her eyes burned with sudden tears.
"Jorund thinks I'm incompetent."
"Jorund is objectively incorrect." He stated it like a mathematical fact. "His assessment is compromised by bias, limited data, and apparent personal animosity. Whereas I have observed your capabilities across multiple contexts and can confirm you are exceptionally competent."
"You're biased too."
"Yes." No hesitation. "But my bias is based on empirical observation of your performance, whereas his appears rooted in prejudice against your city origin."
She laughed despite the tears. "You can't empirically observe competence."
"I can observe outcomes. Theo's improved emotional state. The successful toy production. The effective homestead management under adverse conditions." His hand finally made contact, his fingers brushing her cheek with devastating gentleness. "These are measurable results of your competence."
"Klaus..."
"Jorund is wrong about you. And if the council attempts to separate you from Theo based on his biased assessment, I will—"
"Beat them up?"
"Provide compelling counter-evidence through detailed testimony regarding your capabilities." He paused. "And potentially beat them up if testimony proves insufficient."
This time her laugh came easier. "My alien defender."
"Is that acceptable? The concept of defense implies possessiveness that may be inappropriate given our—" He stopped, something shifting in his expression. "Given the temporary nature of my presence."
The reminder landed heavy in her stomach. Temporary. Because his ship was being repaired. Because he'd eventually leave.
Don't think about it. Just enjoy now.
But now felt fragile suddenly, borrowed time before his inevitable departure.
"Hey." She touched his chest, feeling the strong heartbeat there. "Thank you. For understanding about the toys. And for the threat of violence on my behalf."
"You are welcome." His hand covered hers. "Though I should note my threats are not empty gestures. I am fully capable of implementing the violence I promised if the circumstances require it."
"I know. That's part of why it's sweet."
Wind rattled the workshop windows. She glanced outside and froze.
"Is that snow?"
He followed her gaze. Fat white flakes were falling in thick curtains, already accumulating on the ground with alarming speed.
"A storm system." He moved to the window, assessing the conditions. "There is a significant snowfall. The wind speed is increasing, and the temperature is dropping rapidly."
"Shit. The animals—"
"Are secured in the barn with adequate shelter and provisions." His hand on her shoulder stopped her from rushing out. "I checked earlier and reinforced potential weak points. They will be safe."
"Theo—"
"Is in bed, and the house is secure. We are prepared for this."
She wanted to argue, but he was right. With the repairs he’d implemented, the homestead could weather the storm.
"So we're stuck in the workshop."
"For the duration of the heavy snowfall, yes." He studied the falling snow with something like satisfaction. "Though 'stuck' implies unwanted confinement. I find this situation acceptable."
"You like being trapped in a tiny workshop during a blizzard?"
"I like being alone with you." He said it simply, as if he were commenting on the weather. "Without the constant awareness that Theo might interrupt us or a list of tasks that require immediate attention."
Heat rushed to her cheeks. "Oh."
"Is that acceptable? My preference for your company?"
"Yeah,” she squeaked, then cleared her throat and tried again. "That's acceptable."
They stood there with the snow falling outside, and lamplight casting warm shadows across half-finished toys. The workshop was small enough that his presence filled it. Close enough that she could count his heartbeats through the thin fabric of his shirt.
Don't think about him leaving. Just be here now.
"The deer still needs work." She forced herself back to the safe territory of the workbench.
He joined her, focusing on the deer despite his obvious awareness of the minimal space between them. "The spring adjustment I mentioned earlier should resolve the issue."
He demonstrated, and she tried to focus on the technical explanation, but she kept getting distracted by the play of muscle in his forearms, the careful control in those dangerous hands.
"Are you paying attention?"
"Absolutely."
"Then explain the relationship between spring tension and compression distance."
Her mind went blank. "Um. They're related?"
"That is technically accurate but functionally useless." His lips twitched toward something that might have been a smile. "You are distracted."
"You're distracting."
"How?"
She gestured at all of him. "You're... this close. Being all competent with tiny springs. It's hard to concentrate."
He carefully set the deer down. "I distract you."
"Yes."
"Because of my proximity."
"And other things."
"What other things?"
Her face heated. Their kisses had been world-tilting moments that had haunted her every quiet second since. But they hadn't talked about them or acknowledged the tension that built with every accidental touch, every lingering glance.
"You know what things."
"I prefer explicit communication." He moved incrementally closer. "What specifically about my proximity do you find distracting?"
He's doing this on purpose.
"Your hands." The words came out before she could stop them. "The way you work. You're so precise with delicate things but I keep thinking about..." She stopped, drowning in sudden mortification.
"Thinking about?"
In for a penny…
"About your hands on me. Not on the toy deer. On me."
He went very still. Then, slowly, deliberately, he lifted one hand to her face and traced her jawline with the same precision he'd used on the spring mechanisms.
"Like this?"
Her breath caught. "Yeah. Like that."
His other hand settled on her hip, warm through the layers of fabric. "You have been considering physical contact between us."
"Constantly."
"As have I." His thumb brushed her lower lip. "I find myself increasingly preoccupied with the memory of our previous kisses. I have analyzed the sensations and I want to replicate the experience with improved technique."
"Improved technique?"
"I have limited practical experience with kissing. My performance was likely suboptimal."
She actually laughed. "The kisses were perfect."
"Objectively, that is unlikely. I had no reference data and failed to implement—"
She kissed him.