"It looks a little like an ouroboros," Reeve had commented earlier that day. He had been keeping Valentine company—not his idea—and had been there when he had received Yelena's letter. He had told Reeve that he was going to see her that night, and his youngest brother's sage advice had been, "Don't fuck it up again, and don't be clueless like Apollo was, when it comes to what's right in front of you."
Valentine was going to do his best. He had spent two frustrating days making himself miserable. He had wanted to give Yelena space after their spat, but he was contemplating going to her when the letter had arrived.
Valentine carefully wrapped the silver hand and sigil designs in a length of scarlet silk that he had found while wandering themarkets. Wood was scarce in the mountains, and the dark, bloody shade of scarlet had called to him.
"You can't do any more work on it without her," Valentine murmured to himself. He was strangely anxious all of a sudden. He didn't want to fight with Yelena, not about her visions or anything else. If she hated the hand, then at least he could convince himself that he had tried to make amends before going home.
After their last fight, Valentine had considered going back to England. He couldn't leave because his dragon had thrashed and raged about it. It didn't want to leave, knowing that Midir had plans to attack Taranis again.
Valentine had too many unanswered questions where Yelena was concerned, and he had never been able to walk away from a mystery.
Cradling the hand as if it were a newborn, Valentine headed to Yelena's tower. He hadn't noticed the checkpoints in the wards the last time he had raged all the way to her door. This time, he could feel the intricate web of them. They were unlike any he had created before, and he immediately wanted to ask her about them.
She mustn't have been too angry with him because the wards parted for him like gossamer curtains. He had no doubt that if she wanted to keep him out, the wards would have flayed him apart.
Valentine frowned the more he came across. He knew there were lords like Afon who didn't like her, but she wouldn't have made such wards if she felt safe from them.
Did Taranis know about them? Valentine hated the thought that she had to protect herself from assholes in her own home. It was just one more mystery in the pile of mysteries.
Valentine took a shaky breath and straightened his clothes before lifting his hand and knocking on her door. Yelena openedit, and his heart did a dangerous double-beat. Her hair had been braided into a crown, and she was wearing black pants and a wrap shirt similar to his own in a silky dark purple. She wasn't wearing shoes, and her nails were painted the same purple.
Valentine hadn't realized he had been staring at her like an idiot until Yelena's lips quirked into a smile.
"You can come in, Valentine, I'm not going to bite," she teased.
"That's a shame," he replied and stepped into her chambers.
Yelena laughed softly. "The servants shouldn't be too much longer with food. Thank you for coming."
"Thank you for inviting me. It stopped me from charging up here and being an ass again just to get your attention," he said and looked around the room. The piles of books had changed places, and pieces of paper were scattered over her large desk.
"I'm rather tired of us fighting, Valentine. Is there something I can do to fix that?" she asked, straight to the point. "Or do you need to yell at me some more?"
Valentine's throat tightened, and he forced himself to swallow. "You don't need to do anything. In fact, I have made you something as my way of apologizing."
"Apologizing for what part?" Yelena asked, raising a brow.
Valentine sighed. "All of it. I'm not good at apologies. I think actions speak louder than words anyway, so this is... Here."
He held out the bundle of silk to her, and Yelena took it.
"Is this the mysterious project you have been working on since you rescued us?" She carried the bundle over to her desk and set it down.
"It's been a good way to keep the dragon and my magic busy." Valentine followed her carefully, not wanting to crowd her, but needing to see what she thought of the gift. "I got it as far as I could without your help."
"Now, you have me intrigued," she said and began to unwrapthe silk. When the hand was finally revealed, she exhaled a soft, "Oh." She rested her good hand on her chest, and nervous sweat trickled down Valentine's spine. "It's so beautiful. You really made this? For me?"
Valentine nodded. "Yes. I...I thought about the story of Nuada and his silver hand and how your magic might be changed from losing yours. Ah, these sketches under it, they are some of the designs I have been working on."
He spread out the sheaves of paper in front of her. "I would have to tattoo it over your wrist, and then the magic will help bond the hand so it will be able to work as a real one would. I need your help perfecting them because your magic needs to be threaded through the sigil to flow properly through the silver. You always make my spells work better anyway."
Valentine froze as Yelena pulled him into a hug. His nose was flooded with her scent, and the hot press of her body up against him made him dizzy. It didn't stop him from putting his arms around her.
"Thank you, Valentine. I've never seen anything so lovely," she said, her words warm against his neck.
I have, he thought, and breathed in the scent of her hair.
"It seemed like a fair deal to make you a new hand after costing you your last one," he said, his long fingers stroking the length of her spine. He usually hated hugs that lasted longer than ten seconds, but he didn't have the compulsion to let someone go for the first time in his life. Something about Yelena's energy wasn't intrusive like everyone else's was.
