The sight of rows and rows of gleaming blue cheese wheels stacked to the ceiling struck me silent as I followed Rada into the next room. Each had a small piece of paper with her neat writing pinned to it, meticulously tracking their maturity. A massive metallictower dominated the center of the room, with the milk cans I’d filled earlier beside it. I couldn’t help but notice the passion in Rada’s voice as she described the process of cheesemaking to me.
“Underforge was right. This is impressive,” I said honestly.
She smiled, clearly pleased by my praise. “Do you want to try a piece?”
Without waiting for my answer, she moved to a small stone container, powered with a bluelyrin-stone, that held different kinds of finished cheese. I expected her to hand me the small, bluish piece she cut off, but she didn’t. Instead, she stepped closer and raised it to my lips, a challenging glint in her eyes.
I behaved, taking the cheese from her fingers without the slightest touch. At least the first two times. When she offered me a third piece, the rind decorated with small, colorful flowers, I couldn’t resist. My lips brushed her skin. As good as the cheese tasted, it was nothing compared to her sweetness.
“That one is very popular in Rasga,” Rada murmured, her voice rough.
“They have good taste in Rasga,” I answered, fighting the impulse to take this further, to suck her finger into my mouth and let my tongue swirl around it.
Whatever had brought out this softer side of her, this behavior that bordered on flirting, I knew her anger would return with one misstep from me. After a long, tense moment, she shook herself and moved to the cheese forms to explain the process.
“Don’t worry,” she reassured me. “I will sell those in the village. The true hay milk cheese can only be made once the araks have grazed on the hills for a while.”
Rada took the cream container and said she would prepare fresh butter, leaving me to my tasks. I glanced around the room again andagain as I formed and pressed out the cheese, the smell of arak milk heavy in the air.
All of this made me wonder. It made me wonder quite a lot. Rada had put so much thought and effort into her little farm. Unlike me, she hadn’t merely survived after becoming Human; she had thrived, building a new life for herself. Simpler than I’d imagined, but clearly, a life she had chosen.
This looked more and more like a strange, self-imposed exile. But why come here? Why leave behind everyone she knew? Every ally she might still have? Even if Aramaz had turned against her, she had friends among the Ten who would never abandon her. Tanez and Namtaz had always been fiercely loyal to her.
Lost in my thoughts about that baffling mystery, I slowly made my way back to the main room of the house after finishing my work—only to pause in the doorway, completely enraptured by the sight that greeted me. A sight so mundane yet so painfully beautiful it felt as if my heart swelled with warmth until it could no longer fit into the cold, hollow space in my chest.
Rada was making butter.
Bent over a knee-high wooden container, she worked using all her body weight. Each downward thrust of the plunger made her white summer dress rise slightly, the muscles of her bare arms tightening with the strain, a loose strand of hair fluttering faintly in front of her face. She had hiked her dress up over her knees to move easier, allowing me enticing glimpses of her supple thighs. The dim light of the room cast mysterious shadows between them, beckoning me to get closer, to explore.
And stars, I knew—I knew so well how incredibly soft her skin would feel there, how warm, if I let my hands glide up, drawn by a heat that would nearly burn me, a fire I wanted to be eviscerated in.My fingertips tingled with the memories of a thousand remembered touches. My body came alive with a sudden awareness of her, of how fucking easy it would be to cross the distance between us and…
Only it would not be easy.
My eyes caught on the silvery scars on her legs. Marks she could have erased with a thought as a goddess, now etched permanently into her Human skin. The horrible scent of burnt flesh drifted through my memory, an agonized whisper ofmonster, monsterpiercing my heart.
My fault. Like so many other things.
Most of the night she had been marked with those burns, the night when Yggdrasil fell, was nothing but a blur of fire and shadows in my memories, even fifty years later. But I remembered her screams, so anguished they ripped the fabric of reality apart. I remembered her silver eyes, filled with a desperation one could drown in. I remembered the ashes clinging to my skin, coating my tongue until I choked on them.
My existence had been filled with devastating defeats, yet that night might have been the most harrowing. Another rejection from the one who mattered the most to me, casting me aside in horror. I had sought solace in Chaos, its raging power burning away all doubt, all weakness. Only condemning myself more as I plunged Aron-Lyr into a decades-long war.
The chasm between us was so deep, so full of endless darkness and terrifying horrors, that even the bravest soul wouldn’t attempt to cross it. Perhaps it was a sign of insanity that I was still tempted to try.
Before I could contemplate my next move, Rada gasped in mid-plunge, pain flitting over her face.
“You shouldn’t be doing that.” I was beside her in a few swift steps, my desperate longing overshadowed by worry. “You’re still hurt.”
Because she had to be contrary on principle, she threw an annoyed look at me, eyes flashing. “And who will do it, then? You? The cream has to be used now, or it will turn sour.”
I put a restraining hand over hers as she attempted to resume her task. She tensed at my proximity. “It can’t be that hard.”
She scoffed, but stepped away from the butter churner with a sarcastic wave of her hand. “Fine. Have a try.”
Determined to show her I was capable enough for this, I grabbed the smooth wood of the plunger and set to work. It was surprisingly exhausting. Being a lot taller than Rada, I had to bend forward at an uncomfortable angle, and concentrate on every move to not let the thick bluish cream spill over the rim. After a few minutes, my shirt was drenched in sweat. So much for showering earlier.
“No.” Rada’s voice interrupted my quick, firm rhythm. She frowned as I looked at her questioningly.
“Only go that fast in the beginning.” She moved to the other side of the wooden churner and leaned over, placing her hands on mine to slow down my movements. “With feeling now.”
