14 #2
I probably should as well, considering I have the early shift on duty, but Soleil seems content to stay and sit at the fire, so I am, too.
I chat with Glenson, with Vayla, with Petyr and a few of the other guards, with all my senses half-distracted and always oriented toward my mate.
There’s no helping it, really. Even if I wanted to, the magick sparking between us makes it impossible not to notice her, impossible not to be attuned to her every word and movement.
So I don’t miss it when she rises from her seat.
The group has thinned even further, and a dull stab of disappointment hits me square in the chest.
At least until I realize she’s not headed back to her tent.
Soleil circles around the fire, takes the seat next to me, and I hope my pleasure at having her near isn’t radiating off me.
She catches my eye, and a little smile plays around her lips.
Clever witch.
There’s no way she wasn’t going to notice.
“It was lonely over there,” she says with a shrug.
“And over here?” I nudge her softly with my wingtip, and that smile gets a little wider.
“Better.”
She seems more relaxed now that it’s just the two of us, though I still feel the need to apologize for her earlier discomfort.
“Sorry,” I say, resting my elbows on my knees. “For all of that.”
“All of what?”
“The interrogation you had to endure.”
She gives her head a rueful shake. “It’s alright. I’m sure my coven sisters would have just as many questions if a demon came to visit the coven hall.”
The comment brings to mind dozens of questions I’d like to ask her about her life back in the human realm. I’d like to know everything, no detail spared.
“That’s where you live?” I ask, deciding on the most straightforward one. “At the coven hall?”
“Yeah, I’ve lived there for most of my life. I’m apprenticing now, on track to… well… just apprenticing, I guess.”
I let out a thoughtful hum, wondering what she didn’t say, but not willing to press her on it.
Not now, when every step forward I make with her feels so precious.
“What about you?” she asks, changing the subject. “What do you do when you’re not off on a mission with the court guard?”
“I…” My words dry up and my heart falls.
How do I answer that?
I spend my days lazing around the court and my nights hosting parties. I amuse myself with short-lived passions and distracted pursuits, never taking anything seriously enough to dedicate myself to it.
“Sorry,” Soleil murmurs. “That was prying. You don’t have to tell me if you—”
“No,” I hurriedly assure her. “I mean, I don’t mind the question. It’s just… I don’t have a particular occupation at the moment. This guard assignment was… rather last minute. And temporary.”
I’ve never had a permanent occupation, and I’m not sure I ever will.
Surprisingly, Soleil laughs. “That sounds nice. Sometimes I feel like I’ve never not had an occupation. There’s never really been a time when I didn’t have someone expecting something from me.”
“Even when you were a child?”
“Especially when I was child.” She sighs and looks up at the stars, thinking for a moment.
“Crescent witches… there’s a lot expected of us.
Of our magick. Even when we’re children.
Not everyone gets to stay at the coven hall and keep training, and I can remember being aware of that even when I was maybe seven?
Eight? Young enough that I didn’t really understand, but I was terrified of not making the cut. ”
“What happened to those who didn’t?”
“They didn’t get to stay,” she says softly. “The girls Esme decided were worthy moved into the coven hall and got more training. They were set up for a whole life of protection and favor by the coven. And those who weren’t were sent off into the mundane world, the non-magickal world.”
Given what she said earlier about how magick-users are treated in her realm, I can understand the sorrow in her voice.
“I feel so guilty about it sometimes,” she continues.
“Being asked to stay. Agreeing to stay. My sister… I think she understood way before I did how fucked up it was. How even though we were considered lucky for being chosen, it didn’t mean we fared any better.
We all ended up suffering in the end, in our own ways. ”
Anger blinks to life in my chest. “How did you suffer?”
The vehemence in my tone startles her a little. “That sounded dramatic, didn’t it? Maybe suffer was too strong a word for—”
“Soleil.” I lay my hand over hers where it rests on the log between us. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Downplay something that hurt you. Not for my sake, at least. I never want you to feel you have to censor how you’re feeling on my account.”
Her eyes grow big and round in the firelight, a little damp, though I might just be imagining the sheen of tears with how quickly she blinks it away.
She covers that emotion with a smile that doesn’t do a damn thing to mask the pain still lingering in her eyes.
“It’s late,” she murmurs. “And I’m rambling. I should probably head to bed.”
An argument rises to my tongue immediately.
Bed?
It’s only… well, it’s only long past time both of us should have been abed. Soleil is right, but I’ll be damned if I don’t want to try to convince her to stay a little longer.
My witch doesn’t give me the chance, though, as she stands and stretches muscles stiff from hours seated on crude log benches.
She pauses before she leaves, looking down at me with a mix of emotions on her face. Too many for me to know what she’s really thinking.
“Good night, Finn.”
A little lurch in my chest, hearing my name on her lips.
“Good night, Soleil.”
She heads into her tent, and it leaves me alone at the fire. I watch the embers dance, replaying every moment of our conversation and wishing like anything it could have continued.
Hopefully tomorrow we can keep getting to know each other. I can regain a bit of my equilibrium and employ the charm that’s always come so readily to me.
With any luck, the morning will bring a day much less eventful and much more conducive to winning over my beautiful, enigmatic mate.