Boden nodded, slow with trepidation. But when his village stood to benefit?
“Deal,” he said. “I’ll get you Cardigan. You get my conduits running again.”
21
Just say you forgive me
Fi finally made coffee.
Once the copper kettle sang, she drowned one mug in sugar and cream for herself. Next, a semi-sweet concoction for Boden.
They shared a look of surprise when Antal accepted a cup, bitter and black as the Void.
Boden leaned over the kitchen table, scowling. “But you told me you don’t drink—”
“I don’t. Not with mortals.” Antal clacked his claws to the mug and sipped.
Fi cocked a brow at Boden, a wordless, “Can you believe this shit?”
But Boden was staring at her hands, the dark fractal of an energy burn down her thumb. He looked to the daeyari, then back at her. But said nothing.
They spent a long time hammering out details, Boden laying out what he’d learned of Cardigan’s villa on the Spring Plane. By the time they had a workable strategy, the hour was late, their mugs empty. Fi pushed Boden out the door to get some sleep.
He kept looking between her and Antal, like she’d be devoured the moment he left.
“I’ll be fine, Bodie. I’ve survived two weeks without your incessant worrying.”
She got him onto the porch. Antal stayed inside.
When the door shut, a cold quiet wrapped around them. Night air carried the hoot of a distant owl through the trees. In the clearing, Aisinay conversed with Boden’s boreal horse in soft snorts, little nuzzles to each other’s necks.
Fi didn’t know how angry he was for keeping all this from him, for bringing a daeyari to their village without asking. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Instead, she watched the green aurora drift above the trees, a soft hiss then snap with each wave, whispers of lost souls reaching out from the Void with—
Boden grabbed her coat and pulled her into a rib-crushing hug.
Fi froze in surprise. She forgot how to hug back, arms falling awkward to her sides as Boden wrapped her in an unflinching embrace. He smelled of dust and aurorabeasts. Of safety.
“You should have told me,” he said in a hush.
Fi’s throat tightened. At her silence, Boden cupped the back of her head and pulled her tighter against his shoulder.
“You should have told me,” he said, “so you didn’t have to do this alone. Void have mercy, Fi. Are you all right?”
Why did it sound like an apology?
And no, come to think of it, Fi wasn’t all right. She wanted to sink into him. She wanted to cry out that she was afraid, and she didn’t know what to do, and wouldn’t someone please help her fix this.
“You never told me you’d met Antal,” she said in the flattest, safest tone she could.
Boden shifted her to arm’s length, hands tight on her shoulders. Then, a sigh. “I came home after the election, and he was out in the paddock. Watching the aurorabeasts. He couldn’thave stayed more than ten minutes. I didn’t want to worry you.”
A partial truth, Fi guessed. Boden didn’t want her to run away again. Same reason he’d stowed her up here the past two weeks, out of the way.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.
“I know, Fi. But—”
“I won’t leave you again, Boden. I going to fix this. I’m going to—”
