“Can you speak to them or something?” Evren asked, his eyes wide with bewilderment.
She laughed but didn’t turn to him, keeping her focus on the small bird.
“Of course not,” she said, and the bird flew off and back out of the door.
She turned to him then, smoothing her skirts. His cheeks warmed under her full attention, but he didn’t break her gaze.
“Perhaps if you didn’t scowl so often,” she said, “they wouldn’t mind showing you some affection too.”
Their eyes met briefly before she turned. And in them he saw every Enchantress he’d taken to Valebridge. Every life he traded for shillings. Every soul he damned. He couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened but then she began to hum again and his shoulders unclenched.
He was hard and she was soft, and he wanted nothing more to be even the slightest bit more like her. To laugh openly. To speak kindly to something so small as a bird without the fear that someone would find him mad.
The last few weeks she’d listened intently when he told stories of his childhood and laughed when he explained how one summer he was determined to fly. Her head tipped back and her eyes closed as she laughed when he explained the wings he made of sticks and leaves.
It was then he’d made a vow to make her laugh as often as he could.
There was no mockery or disgust whenever he mentioned how badly he missed ale. She just held his hand, brushing her thumb over his knuckles. She’d brewed the yarrow root tea and wiped his sweat ridden brow with a cold cloth. The touch intimate enough to make his stomach flip and forget the tremors completely.
He glanced at her again, her back still turned, and his heart raced. He dropped the small shovel he’d been using as his hand began to shake but this time it wasn’t because of his need for ale. It was because of his need to keep her safe.
She was worth every challenge. Every risk. And so, a plan formed and he would do just that. Keep her safe.
* * *
Tallulah hummedas her fingers relished the cold dirt. She added more soil into the pot where the dahlias would grow before she would transplant them to a bigger area of the greenhouse.
Evren worked behind her, planting his own flowers. Something he apparently was keen to back home. She glanced at him over her shoulder. His hair was longer now, and more of a mess than ever. It made her smile as she resumed her work.
She wasn’t sure if she believed him or if his sudden interest in gardening was for her sake, but she didn’t care. It was endearing to watch him learn her craft. And it was all so simple. So easy. He was here, and she was here and so often she forgot why they met.
The weeks since he’d been here had melted together. She looked forward to waking every day just so they could sip tea together and appreciate the foggy Winter mornings, which now slowly trickled to Spring. She was thankful for each cold night, using it as an excuse to bundle up next to him on the sofa. And even when the weather shifted, she yearned to be closer.
Every moment she was near him, her hand found his. Even if it wasn’t her intention. It was as if he was always here. As if they were always?—
Tallulah’s hands stopped; her dahlia bulbs left forgotten. Her memory came swiftly in, kicking and screaming.
He hadnotalways been here. He had a very specific reason. One she was foolish to forget. He had tried to take her to Valebridge. Tried to sell her off. And she had tried to kill him as well. What was it they were truly doing here? Surely, he would have taken her by now. But if he didn’t plan to take her to Valebridge, what exactly did he plan todo?
“Evren.” She kept her back turned to him. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as her dirt-stained hands gripped the edge of the workbench for balance.
“Yes?” His boots scraped against the stone floor.
She cleared her throat and closed her eyes, keeping her back to him. Dreading the question she knew she had to ask. “Are you taking me to Valebridge today?”
Her heart raced as she waited. The laces on her dress suddenly became too tight. The air of the greenhouse, too heavy. Her body warmed as he stepped behind her. She held in a shudder as he bracketed his arms on either side of her, caging her between himself and the workbench.
They’d been close when they slept most nights. But never like this. Never during the day. Especially with her back turned and vulnerable.
And she was afraid.
Not for what he was, a hunter. But forwhohe was. Evren. Her friend. Her…
“Not today, Tallulah,” he whispered against her ear. The same words he’d told her again and again. But this time, it was different.
Not today, Tallulah.
Tallulah.
