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Seff and Tor are both doing extremely poor impressions of people not eavesdropping when Edith throws back her head in maniacal laughter. The chickens, incensed at having been disturbed, squawk back at her.
“My darling, I love you, but you knownothing. Time will show you. So long as you know it all turns out well in the end.”
Well. If there is one thing Edith knows, and knows how to do well, it’s be discomforting and mysterious. For once, I’m willing to use my size to intimidate. I angle my body towards her, crowding into her space.
“What do you know, Witch?” Edith, not one to actuallybeintimidated, just leans forward, pressing her ghostly white forehead to mine. Her red lipstick is smeared across her cheek, completing her unhinged demeanour.
“Everything.”Her whisper tickles the hairs of my beard, and she pulls back to laugh loudly again. I grunt petulantly and lean back, digging my toe into the dirt.
There is very little chance Edithactuallyknows everything. She just likes to play the all-knowing, all-powerful witch. Problem is, she is right just often enough to make her point.
Across the fire, Theo catches my eye again, smiling that pretty smile of his. His conversation with Caelan seems to have derailed as they realise Edith is back to her interfering ways. Not that Caelan has really noticed—he’s only got eyes for Tor, shooting pining, puppy dog eyes his way like the distance between them is painful.
Not judging, because I one hundred-percent get it.
Satisfied that she has made everyone uncomfortable for her own amusement, Edith stands with her nearly empty bottle of wine, and wanders off in the direction of Caelan’s gardens to pillage them for her supplies.
“You be careful with that bottle in there!” Caelan calls out after her when she wobbles slightly, but she ignores his warning, holding the bottle up high with one hand like it’s the championship cup, and blows a raspberry at him.
“She is a menace,” Caelan mutters, stretching in his chair to watch as she climbs through a raised garden bed to pick at a vine climbing up a trellis.
Tor clucks his tongue as he stands, like he can feel the pull of Caelan’s anxiety. He moves to the other side of the fire to settle himself on Caelan’s lap, wrapping himself around his mate, nuzzling into his neck affectionately, murmuring sweet, loving words.
Jealousy hits like a punch to the guts. I want to be able to do that. With Theo. By reflex my eyes flick back to Theo. The same yearning is all over his face like a neon beacon. Yeah, it’s definitely time to have that conversation about what we are and how it’s changed.
Or maybe it’s best not to rock that boat.
“Oh, for the love of the Gods, you all suck.” Seff cries out in put-upon angst, sliding down in his chair until his head rests on the low back. With another pained groan he slides his ever present cap down over his face.
So dramatic, this one. Always has been.
I chuckle and throw one of the marshmallows we had every intention of roasting at him. It bounces off his impressive chest into the darkness outside the firelight. The others join the laughter, and Tor throws another marshmallow in his direction; it bounces off the cap and onto Seff’s lap.
“What’s wrong Seffy?” Theo asks, voice dripping with laughter and exaggerated concern.
Seff pulls the cap off his face to glare at Theo, who only smiles back wider at him, sticking a marshmallow in his mouth. Lucky marshmallow. Seff narrows his eyes and picks up the marshmallow missile in his lap. Rather than eating it, he squishes it between his fingers like a sugary stress ball.
“Nothing, Thee.”
Since when did these two have nicknames for each other? I try to not let the niggle of jealousy blow this into an overreaction.
They are friends.
Just like Theo and I are friends.
Only different apparently. They have nicknames for each other.
Seff sighs deeply again and sits up in his chair, finally putting the now mangled marshmallow in his mouth, and slips his cap back onto his head.
“I dunno. Just sick of being alone or whatever. It’s not easy when you're surrounded by happy couples. No one likes being the fifth wheel.”
As if to prove his point, he nods toward Tor, who had frozen in the middle of feeding Caelan his own marshmallow. Tor,notbeing an idiot and hearing what we’d all heard, swivels his head to Seff with the focus of a predator eyeing fallen prey.
“But,Seffy.”
Ohshit. His voice is cold, his ice-blue eyes narrowed in on Seff, who is now blushing and squirming under Tor’s focus.
“How could you be afifthwheel? That would mean mybaby brotherandRoanmight be somehow involved. That wouldn’t be right, would it? Becausesurelyif the tavern keeper who took mytenderbrother when he was in avulnerable time of his lifewas schtupping him on the regular,one of themwould have thought to tellme, their concerned ol-”
