I step closer to her, hand itching to reach out and touch her clothing. “You want a fool who can’t handle blunt? Or do you want someone who knows exactly what you mean?"
A slow smile spreads over her face, and then she writes.
When she looks at me, I feel a little dizzy.
“You know,” she starts, “I think this is the first time we’ve ever spoken without fighting.”
“No it isn’t,” I retort.
She opens her mouth, and I bite back a smile. Then, realizing my joke, she laughs again.
I luxuriate in the sound. It washes over me like warm water.
We talk for another hour before she thanks me and says she would like to go to bed.
I oblige her request, feeling… light. Lighter than I have in a while. Nosharp, emotional spikes to ruin the night. No lingering tension waiting to snap.
After so much talking, the walk back is quiet, and my mind circles around things I don’t want to name.
She leaves first, disappearing into her home, and then I find my own dwelling.
When I shut the door behind me, my eyes immediately land on the scroll. It sits on the desk. Mocking me.
My house is quiet. Always quiet.
The only sound is the faint hum of the city beyond the door, and the scratch of my calloused hands against the wood of the desk as I pick up a pen and go to retrieve the scroll.
Staring at me.
"Just go,"Teo had told me when we talked about the Mating Journey.
I bite my lips together. My fingers brush the pen. I roll it between them, stare at the parchment, and—after a pause—set it down.
I don’t need to go to the festival.
I don’t need the pageantry, the spectacle, the false smiles from strangers who don’t really see me. But I could go for Arlet.
I wouldn’t have to see anyone else. Wouldn’t have to talk, wouldn’t have to pretend. I could just be there in case she needs me.
Daniel is still out there. And that thought alone makes my decision.
I sit back, exhaling slowly.
And then, I smile.
Chapter 11
ARLET
When I wake, I am not surrounded by a large, shirtless blue enduar, but by the gentle press of my handmade blankets.
I am glad to be here, in my bed, not some other strange place, with my memory fully intact. And what a memory it was.
I roll over and sigh, thinking about meeting Vann in the salt room last night. Vann was an ass to start, but then he turned so kind… it was almost a dream.
Wiping my eyes, I let out a long breath.
This is one of those mornings where the weight of the day’s tasks pulls me from slumber easily, but actually making it out of bed—leaving the warm, familiar mold of my mattress—is a different battle entirely.