12. Chapter 12 Thalmeir
Liora was at his door before he finished lacing his boots.
"We're going to town," she said.
She leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed and her weight on one hip, and Saturday fit her differently than weekdays did.
Her hair was down, silver and heavy past her shoulders, falling around her horns in a way that looked accidental and wasn't. She wore a fitted green top with sleeves that ended at her wrists and a dark skirt that sat high on her waist and stopped mid-thigh.
Her legs were bare from there down, red skin and toned calves that weeks of Rask's PT drills had carved into something worth looking at twice.
She had on low boots that laced at the ankle and gold studs in her ears that he'd never seen before.
She looked drop-dead gorgeous and she knew it. Lucien loved that confidence.
"Good morning to you too," Lucien said.
"Good morning. Lace faster."
Corvath was on the pillow. He opened one eye.
"I'm not going," he said.
"Nobody invited you, furball," Liora said, without looking at the cat.
"Good. I have business to tend to." He closed his eye. "The maintenance shaft behind the attic junction needs re-mapping. Something died in there last night and I intend to investigate, claim the remains, and secure the route. Very satisfying work."
"Enjoy your dead mouse," Lucien said.
"I will." Corvath tucked his nose beneath his tail. "Feel free to purchase snacks for me…your ‘furball.’"
Lucien finished lacing and stood. Liora took his arm before he was through the door and steered him into the corridor.
The path from the academy gate ran downhill on packed dirt, winding through old trees that somebody had planted in a straight line and the trees had spent decades actively fighting said placement.
Liora walked close enough that her shoulder pressed his arm with every other step, and her tail drifted in lazy arcs behind them, curling forward now and then to tap the back of his hand.
Saturday had no schedule. Nobody waited for him in a classroom, no professor expected him to underperform on cue, and no cat was commentating through his skull. The air smelled like grass and the overnight rain that hadn't dried from the low spots in the road.
"You look confused," Liora said. She had threaded her arm through his without asking, and the grip was proprietary. She held onto him the way she held opinions.
"I'm not confused. I’m clearly champing at the bit to go to this town."
"You're not used to having nothing to do. I can see it. Your jaw is doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you're running advanced calculations behind your face." She poked his cheek with one finger. "Stop it. It's Saturday. Be a normal person for three hours."
"I'll do my best. It is strenuous work."
"Your best in this category is mediocre and we both know it."
Her tail tapped his hip, and she turned forward with the smile she wore when she'd scored a point.
***
The town of Thalmeir announced itself with a bakery.
The smell came first, fifty yards before the first building: bread, cinnamon, and the aggressive sweetness of icing on pastry that hadn't cooled.
The road widened into gray stone paving and the town opened around them.
Low buildings lined both sides of a main street that ran straight toward a market square at the far end.
It was an academy town and it looked like one.
A stationer had ink and cheap pens in the window next to leather notebooks that cost more than the pens deserved.
A tailor's sign advertised academy uniform alterations.
The tavern on the corner kept its specials on a chalkboard that was already smudging in the morning air.
Above the shop fronts, apartment windows held laundry drying between sills, and somebody up there was playing a stringed instrument without much skill.
Nobody looked at Liora twice for being a demon.
An elf couple passed them carrying bread.
A dwarf unlocked his shop across the street with keys on a heavy ring.
The town had been absorbing every race the academy sent through its gates for long enough that a red-skinned demon with horns and a tail was just another Saturday customer.
"It's charming," Lucien said.
"It's functional," Liora said. "Charming implies effort.
This place showed up because the academy was here and nobody told it to leave.
" She scanned the street, quick and thorough, the same pass she ran on rooms and people. "The bakery smells good. Let’s check it out. I assume you aren’t allergic to baked goods. "
“Not that I’m aware of. I seem to only be allergic to Valt and his snake.”
She pulled him toward the bakery door.
They ate pastry in the street because Liora decided the ones with icing couldn't survive a walk to a table. She ate hers in four bites and watched him eat his at a human pace with the expression of someone timing a competitor.
"There's somewhere I want to go this afternoon," she said, licking sugar off her thumb. "I heard about a swimming spot outside town. A waterfall and a natural pool. The locals use it. Students go, but mainly locals."
"Where did you hear about this?"
"I asked the woman at the produce stall in the market.
I was buying apples earlier this week and I asked her what people do around here when they're not studying.
Something that would be romantic for a new couple deeply in love.
" She smiled sarcastically. “She told me about three places.
Two were boring. The third one has water and I want to go. "
"We need swimwear, don't we? I prefer to avoid skinny-dipping in front of the locals, although Corvath would enjoy you putting me through that," he replied.
"You’re too much. We definitely need swimwear. I’m pretty sure we would end up in a jail cell if we were naked in this town. It’s on the conservative side. Do you want to call the headmistress to bail you out of Thalmeir jail for being naked in public?"
“I think that she would regret that she didn’t get an invitation to join us on our nude escapade.”
“Psh, Renvaya, maybe, but I don’t think the headmistress is quite there yet.”
Liora finished the pastry and brushed crumbs from her fingers. She pointed down the main street. "I already know where the shop is."
"Of course you do. What don’t you know?"
"I know everything, pretty much." She took his arm again. "See? You’re learning. Also I am going to be picking out your swim trunks. I have something in mind and I don’t trust you to pick out the correct ones."
"You're picking my swimwear. Am I a child?"
"I'm picking your swimwear, your lunch, and where we sit. You have no authority today. This is my operation and you are along for the ride."
"I had no authority yesterday either, or the day before, or the day before that."
"See, you love it." She grinned at him, golden eyes bright. "No decisions. Embrace the feeling and get used to it."
The shop sat halfway down the main street between the bookshop and an apothecary with a dusty window display.
A faded awning hung over the door. Inside, it was cool and cluttered: racks of clothing sorted roughly by type, shelves of boots and canvas bags, and an iron stove in the back corner that gave off heat nobody needed in the late morning.
The shopkeeper was a gray-haired woman with thick forearms and spectacles pushed up on her forehead. She glanced up from a ledger, looked from Liora to Lucien to their linked arms, and looked back down.
"Let me know if you need any help. The sections are pretty self-explanatory. Changing room behind the curtain."
Liora was already moving.
She found the swimwear in seconds. The rack held one-piece suits, swimming shorts, wraps, and a small selection of bikinis in fabrics that ranged from practical to ambitious. Liora pushed through them with both hands, pulling items out, holding them up, rejecting them, hanging them back.
"No. No. This color is an insult to everyone involved.
No." She held up a dark red two-piece and frowned at it.
"The cut is fine but red will disappear against my skin.
I need contrast." She put it back. "If you're selling swimwear in a town next to an academy that enrolls demons, stock colors that work on red skin. It's basic commerce."
"It's a small shop and there are a lot of races at the academy," Lucien said mildly.
"And it has a limited understanding of its customer base.
A little more market research is needed.
" She pulled out a black bikini with gold thread along the edges.
She held it up against her body, the dark fabric across her chest. She looked down at it, then at him.
The gold thread caught the light from the window. "This one."
The black against her red skin and the gold catching the light from her eyes wasn't something Lucien needed to think about. She held the fabric against herself with both hands, stretching the top across her chest to check the width, and the motion pressed the top tight against her breasts.
"Tell me what you think," she said.
"I think you already know what I think."
"I want to hear it."
"You're going to look incredible in that and you've known it since you pulled it off the rack. Your body was sculpted by the gods. I feel sorry for any woman standing near you while wearing that."
"Much better than 'that works.'" She draped the bikini over her arm. "Your turn."
She crossed to the men's section, which took up one sixth of the rack. Lucien stayed where she'd left him. He'd accepted how this day worked somewhere on the road down from the gate.
She pulled out three pairs of trunks and dismissed two in seconds.
"These are the color of pond water. These look like something an elderly man would wear." She held up a pair of dark gray trunks with a simple drawstring. She studied them, then studied his hips, then studied the trunks again. "These will sit right. Try them on."
"You got my measurements by looking at me from eight feet away."