"Starting with dinner," I continue, warming to the theme. "I'm going to cook dinner tonight. Something good. Something that actually tastes like food. And you're going to sit at the table like a person and taste it, because vampires can still taste, and you deserve good food."
"I don't deserve..."
"Let me decide what I give freely," I say, and my voice comes out softer now. "That's the only thing I'll ever ask of you, Cadeon. Let me choose to be kind. Let me choose to see you as more than a weapon. Can you do that?"
For a long moment, he just looks at me. The firelight flickers across his face, casting shadows, and I can see him struggling with something. Belief, maybe. Or hope. Things he's forgotten how to feel.
"Why?" he finally asks, and his voice is barely a whisper. "Why does it matter to you?"
"Because you deserve better than what she gave you." I hesitate, then push forward. "Because maybe we both deserve a chance to figure out who we are without her shadow hanging over us."
Something shifts in his expression. Not warmth, exactly. But the ice cracks, just a little.
"Partners," he says, testing the word like he's tasting it.
"Partners," I confirm.
"I don't know how to be a partner."
"Good. Neither do I. We'll figure it out together."
The corner of his mouth twitches, an almost-smile, just the slightest indent of a dimple, I'm learning to recognize. "You're very determined."
"I stress-bake and I research obsessively. It's my process."
"I've noticed."
We stand there in the library, firelight and snowfall, and something settles between us. An agreement. A promise. The beginning of something that might, eventually, be trust.
"The snow," Cadeon says, glancing toward the window. "We're snowed in."
"I noticed. Are you worried?"
"No." He pauses. "It feels... quiet."
"Good." I gather up the books, suddenly energized. "Then we have time. Time to research, time to plan, time to figure this out. And time for me to make dinner, which I'm thinking should involve hot chocolate first."
"Hot chocolate."
"It's snowing. We're snowed in. Hot chocolate is required. It's practically a law of nature."
"Hot chocolate?" He repeats, this time more of a question.
"It's definitely a law of nature. Trust me on this."
He follows me out of the library, and I pretend not to notice that he's chosen to follow. That he's choosing to stay close. That for the first time since I arrived, he looks almost... settled.
The kitchen is my domain, and I’ve already claimed it thoroughly.
I've got the stove burning hot, the kettle singing, and ingredients spread across every available surface. The windows are fogged from the warmth inside versus the cold outside, and the whole room smells like chocolate and cinnamon.
"Hot chocolate is an art form," I explain, measuring cocoa powder with perhaps too much ceremony. "You can't just mix powder and water and call it done. You need real chocolate, good milk, cinnamon, a tiny pinch of salt, and, this is the important part, you need to put intention into it."
"Intention." Cadeon is sitting at the table again, watching me with that same careful attention he gave to the bread-making. "Your magic."
"Warmth magic, specifically. Comfort magic. The kind that settles in your bones and eases old aches." I'm whisking chocolate and milk together, feeling the magic hum through me. "Grandmother probably would have called it frivolous."
"Mistress Elspeth," he says quietly, "was wrong about many things."
