Chapter 40 #2
The otter nods enthusiastically. She gently takes the ring from him, and rubs the paw that held it.
Of all the fingers she could have chosen, she slips it onto the one humans use to signify mating.
Something warm spreads through me.
“Well, aren’t you just the forest’s cutest little jeweler?” she teases.
He lets out a happy trill, then vanishes beneath the surface in a puff of lavender-scented bubbles.
I chuckle. “Snow-otters are born of river frost and the sweetest sap from our oldest trees. They are emotional warmth-bringers, and they love to snuggle.”
“Do I name him?” she asks. “Or is he like Saevel?”
“Saevel is the only one who comes with a name. He chose his when he was born from my soul,” I murmur.
She turns back to the little otter, who has resurfaced nearby.
“I think I’ll call you Toffee,” she whispers. “You remind me of caramel. Warm, sweet, and impossible to hold onto.”
Toffee jumps from the water and plants a kiss on her cheek. She wraps her arms around his tiny body, and they sit there like that— hugging, for a long moment.
“I’m going to go back downstairs and grab your tea and your snack now that Toffee’s found you,” I say softly.
“He could have gotten through the window if you hadn’t boarded it up like a crazy man the other night,” she laughs.
I know she’s joking, but the image of her in this very tub... touching herself for him, flashes through my mind anyway. My chest tightens. A few bones in my spine crack under the pressure.
“Wait,” she calls out, looking up at me. “I named all the animals today. And Saevel already has a name...”
She pauses, biting her lip.
“Does your other form have a name? Your beast?”
I go still.
“No, Rhavari don't typically name our shifted forms. It's just... us.
“I know it's you, but it feels different,” she says softly. “When you shift... It's like meeting a different part of you.”
My chest tightens. She sees us. Understands us.
She's quiet for a moment, then shakes her head with a small, confused laugh.
“There's just this name I can't get out of my head. Ever since you shifted earlier.” She murmurs. “I'm sorry, that was probably a silly thing for me to ask—”
“No!” I interrupt her. “I want—what name?” My voice comes out rough. Kal’vresh mai—thr?’nak. (Impossible—she wants to name him.)
“Rh?ven.” She says it hesitantly, like she's not sure if she's pronouncing it right. “I don't know where it came from. It just... keeps calling to me.”
My breath stutters in my chest.
“What?” She asks, eyes widening at my expression. “Is that bad? Did I—”
“No.” I crouch beside the tub, bringing us eye level. “Rh?ven means ‘winters fury’ in Vraks?n.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flush. “Look at me just a regular ole Rhavari expert.” She winks at me.
“Regular ole Rhavari expert,” I huff a laugh, shaking my head. My hand slides into her damp hair, tilting her face up to mine.
“You can't even pronounce half the words I've taught you, snowdrop.”
She splashes water at me.
My expression sobers. “But you knew that one. Without me teaching you.” I leaned closer. My nose traces along her throat—that vulnerable place I can't stop claiming.
“The bond is showing you my language, Lumi. Showing you... me.”
“So... it's okay? I can call him that?”
“Yes, Lumi. Call him Rh?ven. Call him whatever you want” My thumb brushes her lower lip. “Because he's yours.”
Goosebumps break out over her skin.
“I'll be right back, you need to eat.” I force myself to stand, and head downstairs. I slip into the kitchen and pour the kettle over the herbs I gathered—ones meant to soothe her heat. Nothing will truly ease it, save for the one thing I still can’t give her.
I pull a Tharnfruit from the cooler and begin slicing. It resembles what her people call an apple—except it has frosted blue skin with a soft pink interior—but its flavor is something else entirely: cotton candy, and the velvety bite of snow peach.
Rare, even in these woods.
She hasn’t tried this one yet, but I think it’ll be her favorite.
I gather a handful of nymra bark crisps— thin, reddish blue slices that crackle when roasted. They taste like vanilla bean and cinnamon, especially when drizzled with honey. They only grow where starlight touches the forest floor.
I scan the shelves for something else to round it out, and my eyes catch on the snowcomb clusters—crystallized nougats, rich in protein—sweet like brown sugar mixed with dark chocolate.
Everything on this plate was chosen to alleviate some of her suffering. All of them possess anti-inflammatory properties and natural painkillers.
I press two fingers to my sternum, then to my lips, and lower them gently to the edge of the plate. The forest hums softly in response—a whisper of wind curls under the door.
“Veyl?n thessae, solmira kai. Veyr’kael?n etra ves velorin.” Be nourished, beloved of my breath. Claimed in blood. Watched by Gods. Safe with me.
I brush a claw lightly over the rim of the plate and exhale a breath across the fruit; a thin layer of frost settles over it all, sealing the vow.