Page 69 of Where We Belong

“If I listen hard enough,” he murmurs, “I can hear Cook telling the other cook what he wants to do to her. So, I can hear you. Even if you whisper.”

I laugh. “Wait—really?”

“Mm-hmm,” he says again and the strange warmth in my stomach shoots south.

“Teach me.”

“You don’t want to hear,” he laughs softly. “Trust me.” Then he turns to face me, propping his head on his arm, his massive, tanned bicep resting above the duvet. I smirk in triumph. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs. “Don’t try to hear everything. Just pick one thing. One sound. Follow it.” I do as I’m told, pressing my cheek into the pillow and squeezing my eyes shut. At first, there’s just the soft rush of blood in my ears, then the steady rhythm of his breathing beside me, my heart, his heart, the music coming from one of the rooms beyond the balcony— “Relax,” he whispers. “You’re trying too hard.” I let out a slow breath and force myself to stop thinking. And then something slides into focus.

“Wait,” I whisper. “I think I hear—”

“Shh,” Kaed breathes. “Follow it.” Cook’s breathless voice drifts through the wall.

“…no, I’m serious, that sauce changed my life—”

“Oh my God,” I hiss. Kaed’s shoulder shakes with silent laughter. I squeeze my eyes tighter and the voice gets louder as if I’m right there in the room.

“—and then I thought, what if we add honey, but like, ethically sourced honey—”

I clamp a hand over my mouth as a second voice cuts in, followed by unmistakable kissing noises and a loud groan.

“No!” I squeak, sitting bolt upright, covering my ears. “Abort. Abort. I don’t want this power.” Kaed laughs softly, tugging me back down beside him.

“You wanted to learn,” he teases.

“I take it back,” I groan.

He smiles at me in the dim light, eyes bright. “Still proud of you, you did it on your first try.”

I groan again, hiding my face against his smooth, scarred arm. “I’m gifted and now cursed to remember those noises forever. Distract me.”

And he does. With easy conversations that lasts until sleep slurs our words and our breathing syncs. I dream of him. Of us. Of life Above and what freedom might taste like for us both.

I’m up before him and I lay there for a bit, just watching. The slow rise and fall of his broad, muscular chest, his mouth slightly parted, soft snores slipping out between slow breaths. One big, hairy leg is thrown possessively over both of mine. He looks younger. Less like a weapon. I trace the air just above his cheek with my finger, resisting the urge to touch him. Resisting the urge to lean in and press a kiss there. He might never know. He might be glad I did. But what a hypocrite that would make me, kissing him in his sleep after all the lectures I’ve given about consent and choice. So instead, I carefully slide out from under him and tiptoe back to my own room with a smile I decide not to examine too closely.

After another long bath, the lingering fire in my abdomen dissolves into perfumed steam. My wardrobe has somehow filled itself overnight. I choose a green halter-neck top and a matching skirt that skims my thighs. Before I can even attempt to fix my hair, a pair of servants slip in and fuss over me. Braiding and weaving pastel green feathers through my dark curls that now hang halfway down my back. When I step out into the living area I bump straight into Kaed. He’s in charcoal trousers and a fitted emerald tunic that shows far too much of his arms and I must actively remind myself to behave. Cook practically bounces beside us, wearing sunny yellow again and an unapologetic grin.

“Well,” he announces proudly, “here I was thinking I was fifth wheeling, turns out I’m the only one actually getting some.”

“Cook,” Eira groans, smoothing her lilac dress.

“What?” He shrugs.

Aiden joins us in the corridor, sporting cream and gold. The wound on his jaw still raw. The one on my neck stung in the bath when I tried to rinse it. It doesn’t even look like it’s trying to heal, in fact, it seems to be growing. We’re led into a bright room with one wide, glassless window that spans the length of a wall. The view over the vibrant gardens is stunning. Corelight floods in over low tables set with woven runners and bowls of fruit. Hanging plants trail from the ceiling. At the middle table, Summer and Mari are already seated, leaning close together with the twins. Before we even sit down, my stomach tightens.

“Good morning,” Hunah stands when she sees us, offering a polite smile. Her beady, brown eyes linger on each of us, roaming our bodies as if we are about to attack. “We do have some updates,” she adds carefully, “but let us eat first.”

I’m trying my best. I don’t want to be rude. I don’t want to ruin the nice relationship we might be building here. But there is always something to do first. Before I can protest, servants glide forward, setting down small bowls of chopped sausages, stacks of tiny golden pancakes, little dishes of honey and cream, and bright plastic cups filled with fresh juice.

“Can you tell us the update, please?” I ask quietly.

Hunah chuckles a little. “Patience isn’t one of your strengths, I see.” It isn’t. But this isn’t about patience. This is about getting what I came here for. Being bold.

“Very well. The intruders we sensed in the forest before your arrival were, in fact, not you. It was an outside attack.” Xalan says signaling behind me. Two guards lead someone into the room. He’s naked, arms wrapped around himself, streaked with dirt. I don’t recognise him until Eira breathes.

“Jace?” She stands halfway out of her chair. The young apprentice who runs deliveries. He looks terrified. Is he a rebel? He can’t be. He’s too quiet and polite. And he follows Nyk around like he’s Superman. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Xalan replies firmly. “These injuries are not from us. They are from your conflict.”