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A chorus of laughter from downstairs snaps me out of my stupidity. I shove my hand in my hair, rubbing at my horn to soothe the racing feeling in my body. It’s then that I notice the sheets.
They are untidy, and I’m pretty sure that the quilt cover’s on sideways. But they are fresh and clean.
He’d changed them.
The pride might be misplaced, but it tickles my chest anyway. I’m glad he’s not looking at me right now, so he can’t see the smile on my face. No doubt it’d just piss him off again.
“Everything okay, Theo?” His shoulders only rise with a humph. But it’s a response. It’s a tiny win, but I’ll take it. It takes the edge off the need to go to him, to slide in the bed behind him, wrap myself around him and take everything haunting his mind from him.
But that isn’t my place. I’d made the mistake of giving into those feelings before, and I’d only hurt him. So, summoning every ounce of willpower I have left, I walk to the other side of the bed to collect the pile of old bedding I spot there.
On my way back out of the room, I see it. Tucked under his pillow, hidden between it and his body, is a book. A scrappy old paperback I recognise. A quick check of the mantlepiece confirms that there are only eleven books.
I can feel his eyes on me as I make my way back out of the room, so I try to keep the cocky smile to an absolute minimum. It’s hard though, and I definitely fail.
“Right. Night then, Theo. Tomorrow, why don’t you try coming downstairs? It’s the middle of the week, so it’ll be quiet. Especially if you come down late.” There’s no response, but Iexpected that, so with one last eyeful of his back, I slip from the room, shutting it firmly behind me.
***
I didn’t tell anyone that I’d suggested he come downstairs tonight. I was worried they’d be a little too helpful in their agreement and push him into obstinate resistance.
“The glass is clean, Roan.” Mauvy flips one of her long brown braids over and shoulder and hip checks me as she passes. But she’s so short it only hits mid thigh, knocking out my knee. I set down the glass I’d been polishing and rap on the bar instead, drawing a muttered curse from my oldest friend. “Gods’ teeth Roan, what is your problem tonight? You’ve been a right nuisance. Worse than usual.” She frowns behind her gold rimmed glasses and clucks her tongue at me when I shrug.
What can I say? I already feel like an idiot, mooning after a kid ten years younger than me. It couldn’tbemore inappropriate, even without the whole, he’s depressed and vulnerable after a traumatic, life-altering, life-threateningevent thing. But the dumb ass, feral beast inside doesn’t care. It justwants. Craves.
“Just an off night, Mauvs.” I pick up another glass, my eyes returning to the curving, woven tree branches that make the staircase to the upper floor of the tavern. Mauvy laughs, loud and gleefully, with an added chortle for good measure. Thank the Gods we're basically empty tonight. She pats my arm, not exactly gently.
“Yeah, sure, Roan. We all believe that.” Under her breath I swear I hear her muttermen are fucking ridiculous. I’d argue but I wholeheartedly agree. She finally leaves me be, needing to start the bread for tomorrow before heading to bed herself. Yanking my arm for leverage, she pulls me down to give me a kiss on one cheek and a light smack on the other.
“Good luck,” she whispers, her eyes dancing with mischief.
With her gone, the place is officially empty. It’s too early to actually close, so I keep myself busy, cleaning and stacking the dishes, wiping down the tables. Every night I’d hoped Theo would make his way downstairs to join the land of the living.
But tonight I am especially hopeful. It feels imperative that he takes this step. But as time drags on, I don’t see hide nor hair of him as I make my way around the tavern.
That is, until, out of the corner of my eye, I spy skinny legs, in far too baggy jeans and white socks, padding their way down my stairs.
Butterflies explode in my stomach, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from shouting in triumph.
He came.
Theo
I don’t want togo downstairs. Ireally, reallydon’t want Roan to be right. But he was right about the sheets wasn’t he? And the eating. Well, everyone was right about me eating more. And well, he was right about the reading.
The well-loved third book of theRadomir, Creator of Darknessseries is taunting me with Roan’s rightness from its place on the bedside table. In amongst my extremely full schedule of wallowing in self pity and ignoring everyone who’s come to see me like I’m a raging toddler, I’ve managed to read the first two.
I’ve actually really enjoyed them. I’d heard a lot about the series, but I’d never had the time to read them. They are creepy, and weird. Andfun.
Maybe the disturbing horror tale about a young man haunted by twelve increasingly deranged ghosts determined to use him to bring about the end of times and release the damned from the ether should be upsetting in my traumatised state, but they have been oddly comforting.
Radomir, despite the calamity in his life, is strong, stoic, and brave. But also terrified of his growing madness. I can empathise. I have no idea how Roan knew I’d like them, but he’d done a good job. It had been a thoughtful present.
And now it was time to thank him. And pull my head out of my ass. Maybe Edith’s disgusting tea is working but I can finally see that cocooning in my little nest isn’t making me feel any better. It’s not healthy.
As much as ithurtsto drag my body out of the bed and pull on the clothes Seldon has left for me, some things need to be done. Going downstairs, late enough that the tavern should be bare, seems like a good first step.
Facing Roan might notseemlike a big deal, and it probably shouldn’t be, but ever since he pulled me from Marieth’s cottage, the man has irritated and fascinated me, and I haven’t known how to handle it.
