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While he clambered down the ladder to find the village leader, Verve went to the window—newly replaced by Hadiya—and peered outside. Storm clouds crept over the sky, brushed along by a steady wind. The moon Atal hung on the horizon, days from fullness, and Verve’s stomach clenched. But she sensed nothing amiss beyond Lotis: no trace of the Chosen or Legion. No trace of anyone with violence in their hearts. Perhaps all of her work to clear the area of dangerous mages had finally paid off. Perhaps Ellory had warned her fellow moon-bloods to steer clear of Lotis, and Danya truly believed her dead.
Verve snorted. Aye, and perhaps she could swallow the moon and light up the whole world.
The barn door creaked as Alem reentered. “Ivet’s busy with the little ones,” he said as he ascended the ladder. “And it’s about to rain, so I imagine no one will want to leave the Willow.”
Verve met him at the ladder as he hefted a massive basket up and into the loft. “What is all this?” she asked.
Without waiting for a response, she pulled back the cloth covering and her mouth immediately began watering at the sight of pesadhi, a Sufani dish she’d not eaten in too long. She tore into the small meat pie at once, savoring the perfect blend of temerin spice and yuzah root, and the tumult of memories evoked by the familiar tastes.
As she ate, she rifled through the basket to see what else Alem had brought. When she caught the scent of honey and her fingers brushed the bundle of smooth, palm-sized dough balls, her breath hitched.
Suddenly, she wasn’t in Hadiya’s barn any longer, but seated at a fire, cozy between her mother and father while her elder sister and her brothers fought over the last bite of tarai: sweet, fried dough filled with crushed nuts and honey. Tears sprang to her eyes, for she loved sweets, but so did her siblings — and they were bigger. A soft movement beside her made her glance over to her father, who withdrew a single, large tarai, and handed it to her, a small smile on his lips.
The memory faded, but for once the remembrance of her family brought only a little pain.
“You don’t like it?” Alem asked.
Verve sniffed — she’d been crying again, sod it all. But the realization didn’t embarrass or infuriate her like it used to. “It’s delicious.” She swiped tears from her eyes and took another bite. “Just like my apaah—my father—used to make.”
She tilted the basket toward Alem, who selected one of the pesadhi and they ate in silence for some time as clouds slowly blotted out the moon. But for once, the darkness outside didn’t make Verve want to withdraw. Dusting sugar from her hands, she went back to the window and flung it open, and leaned her elbows on the sill, staring at the shifting moonlight veiled with clouds.
“Ivet said it’s been quiet lately,” Alem said as he came beside her. “No sign of any trouble, mage-related or otherwise.”
Verve closed her eyes, searching with her meridian senses, but again, she found no trace of danger. Surely that was a warning by itself, but she was full and comfortable, and Danya felt very far away.
Even so. “I sense nothing wrong, but I’ll patrol later,” Verve replied.
“Good idea.” Alem shifted closer so she could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the green scents of his garden, practically taste jessamin nectar on her tongue. The memory of his kiss sent a flush through her body and an ache in her fingertips. The door of his heart was ajar, allowing her a glance within, but she resisted the urge.
“Ivet and the kids are at the Willow?” Her voice was almost a whisper.
He smiled. “Most everyone is. It’s Ivet’s night to cook, and no one misses her food if they can help it.”
“Except you.”
His smile broadened as he looked at her. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”
Surely her cheeks would burst into flames, but she hardly cared. His voice brushed against her ears: low and soft, but filled with promises. Nerves twisted in her full belly and suddenly eating as much as she had didn’t seem like the best idea.
Inhale. Verve gathered her agitation, knotted it into a tight ball. Exhale. She could not see the river here, but she could feel the inexorable flow — not just as a memory, but a constant presence in Space-Between-Stars’s spirit.
So she breathed through her habitual urge to flee because right now, all that mattered was that she and Alem were here, together.
Tell him.
“Alem?”
“Verve?”
She gnawed at her lower lip. Her armor lay to one side of her room, but her heart was still guarded. Could she let anyone breach those walls?
You already have, Space-Between-Stars’s voice whispered in her mind. The Fae was still within her, as were Jocasta and Celidon. But their presences had retreated, giving Verve much-needed space in her own head. Thunder rumbled outside, making the barn walls tremble. A storm wind caressed Verve’s cheek.
Alem pressed his palm over her hand on the windowsill, surrounding her with his warmth, his quiet strength. He studied her, and within his dark eyes she saw her own reflected back, glowing like stars.
“Mara’s mercy,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Space-Between-Stars,” she burst out.
