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“When you discover it, please do let us know.” She answered Nix’s smile with one of her own.
He laughed before saying, “I’ll return, then.”
And in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Brinna wasn’t sure she could ever get used to that.
“Here,” Lucian said, reminding her where she was and who she was with.
With a fortifying breath and a reminder to not be affected, she whirled around. He was closer than she anticipated, holding out a steaming cup.
“Oh.” She stopped short to keep from knocking into him and spilling the cup, then made the mistake of looking at his face. The corners of his eyes softened as they dipped from her face, leaving a trail over her form before stopping at her feet, then jumping back up.
“I wasn’t sure how you liked your tea, but I do have milk and sugar.”
Brinna reached out and took the offered cup. “Thank you.” Her fingers brushed his, a jolt zipping across her skin and radiating up her spine, collecting around her heart, then flooding it. “Milk would be nice,” she added politely even as she bristled inside, not wanting to warm to him.
Lucian turned and led her back into the kitchen. Brinna noted his feet were also bare, and they were as beautiful as the rest of him. Irritated with her thoughts, she frowned but decided that he wasn’t her type either, even if he was pretty. And she could be cordial, a gracious guest.
“You were able to find your way,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“I got lost a few times.” She looked around at everything but him, set the cup down, and ran a hand over the smooth countertop. Theirs at home were wooden, which her father had to resurface once a year. On the stove-top where the tea kettle rested, a barely perceptible blue flame heated the water. The stove at the cottage was a dark, potbelly, metal beast that used wood and fire to heat the surface. There was a sink, but like in the bathing room, knobs rather than a pump activated the spigot. This kitchen had cupboards lining the wall, whereas at the cottage, dishes and linens were stacked in a cabinet with glass doors, goods were stored in jars, sealed containers or in the pantry between the kitchen and her parents’ room.
“This place is so…” she paused. What could she say? She couldn’t even fathom it. “Like a dream,” she finally said. The realization that this was Lucian’s life made her feel even smaller and backward in comparison. No wonder he didn’t see her as someone desirable. She knew nothing. Came from nothing.
Instead, she reached for something she did know. “Do you cook?”
“Some,” he said, opening the door of a contraption to reach in and pull out a container. “During my Roaming, I spent time in a place where food, and how it was prepared, was an art form. I learned basic things before I grew bored, so there are a few things I can do. But cooking for one isn’t enjoyable. I usually make myself easy things to eat.” He set the container on the counter.
“What is that?”
He lifted the container again. “Please don’t tell me you don’t know what milk is.”
She frowned. “I know what milk is. What was it inside?”
His brows compressed, and he looked at the milk and then over his shoulder. “It’s an icebox of sorts. You don’t have an icebox?”
Perplexed and curious, she skirted the counter, then Lucian, and pulled open the door. A burst of cold air touched her skin as a light came on to reveal an array of items. It was a wonder! Her parents had a wooden ice box with an assortment of doors and latches. Definitely no light. “Not like this. Where’s the ice?”
“It runs on sunlight.” He reached past her and shut the door.
“Sunlight? Heat?” She stared at him, knowing she must have looked like the idiot she felt like.
“The power collected from the light is turned into energy needed to make the icebox cold, the lights turn on, and the water warm.”
She didn’t truly understand but knew there wasn’t anything like that in her cottage or in Sevens. She wasn’t even sure there was anything like it in Kaloma. Aware she probably seemed even more ridiculous, she schooled her features. “We don’t have that in the cottage.”
Lucian made a humming sound.
Brinna felt judged, though she couldn’t say if it was because of Lucian or because of her own insecurity. “You must have seen many things while Roaming.”
“So many things.” He smiled and leaned a hip against the counter.
She wanted to ask him to tell her, longed to hear his stories, but his dismissal of her reverberated in her mind, so she didn’t. Silence crept between them, and she moved back to her tea and took a sip. “Thank you for the tea.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
She tried to reconcile the hurtfulness of his earlier words with his actions, but she couldn’t make them align. He’d been kind. Saved her. Gave her a place to stay, clothing to wear. Offered a place for her family to find refuge. Made her tea. Comforted her.
