There were scarves inside, five of them, folded in tissue.
I lifted the first one out. Purple silk slipped over my fingers, soft and cool. The color was deep, like the sky after a storm. The next scarf was gold, then silver, then blue, then a soft green I didn’t have a name for.
They were beautiful.
They were also my size.
Not minotaur size. Not something that would swallow me whole or need to be wrapped around me ten times. These had been made for a human woman.
For me.
“They make them in town,” Kazan said. “Drevus does the weaving. He’s old and rude and charges too much, but he’s good.”
I touched the edge of the violet scarf. The stitching was perfect. “You ordered these?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
His tail moved once.
I looked up. “Kazan. When?”
He held my gaze. He didn’t try to charm his way around it. He didn’t joke.
“Your second day here.”
The barn went very quiet, except for the hum of the buggy.
Before the kiss in the orchard. Before I’d let myself want him where he could see it.
Before any of it.
“And the buggy?” I asked.
“I had the frame before. I started changing it a week ago.” His voice dropped.
My chest hurt.
He’d been making things for me before I’d given him anything. Before he knew whether I’d stay. Before I knew whether I wanted to.
No, that wasn’t true. I’d wanted to. I’d just been terrified.
I looked down at the scarf in my hands. It was too soft. Too fine. The kind of thing that didn’t belong to someone like me. It always came with a hidden price.
“I can’t take these.” The words came out fast. Too fast. I was already folding the scarf, trying to put it back exactly as I’d found it. “It’s too much. The buggy alone is too much. This must have cost a fortune, and I’m not even—” My voice caught, but I forced the rest out. “I’m not permanent. I’m a trial placement. The audit is coming. I could be gone. You can’t spend all this on someone who might leave.”
“Maisie.”
The way he said my name stopped me.
Not sharp. Not angry. Careful. Like he knew I might bolt if he moved wrong.
He came closer and took the box from my hands. I let him because I didn’t know what else to do. He set it on the workbench, gentle as anything, then sat on the edge of the buggy.
It dipped under his weight, then steadied.
For once, his face was almost level with mine.
