She studied him in that too-observant way of hers before she said simply, “Okay.”
“Okay?” he repeated.
She nodded, picking up one of her books and getting comfortable on the sofa.
Okay.
Simple and accepting. As if she was willing to simply sit here with him, foul mood and all. No prying. No arguing or hurt feelings.
A simple acceptance of who he was.
Something he’d never once experienced in all his centuries.
“We have an errand to run,” Razik said when Kailia finally emerged from her bedchamber. “What took you so long today?”
“I don’t owe you any explanations,” she retorted, brushing past him to go to the dining room.
He followed, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what had her in a mood today. It couldn’t be her cycle because he’d scent that blood. More than that, Cethin would likely be hovering more than usual and extra protective. But…
“When was your last cycle?” he asked as she piled pastries and cinnamon rolls onto a plate.
She went still, her eyes swirling almost violently when she slowly dragged them up to him. “Who asks that?”
“It’s a reasonable question.”
“From a partner. Or a Healer. Not… Why are you asking that?”
“I thought maybe it was responsible for the delightful mood I get to enjoy today?—”
“Because you are so full of joy every day,” she interrupted blandly.
“But I realized I’d scent that,” he went on, ignoring her commentary. “Then I realized it might give us insight into your bloodline. Fae get their cycles every season. Avonleyans vary depending on which god or goddess they descend from, and it gets really fucked when bloodlines merge.”
Kailia was staring at him, holding her plate with two hands. “It is odd to me that you know any and all of that.”
“It’s basic anatomy and is a natural part of life for roughly half the realm’s population. Why wouldn’t I know that?”
She sat with that for a minute, taking a bite of pastry. “I suppose that makes sense. Plus, you have Wren.” She shrugged again. “What errand do we have to run?”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m not going to answer it,” she said simply.
“So I have to deal with this mood all day without an explanation?”
“I deal with you every day, don’t I?”
A small growl rumbled from his chest in annoyance. “Let’s go.”
“I’m going to finish my breakfast first,” she replied flatly, lowering pointedly into a chair with her plate of food.
“What have you been doing all morning?” he grumbled, crossing his arms.
Her lips thinned as she focused on her plate. Normally, he wouldn’t care. Normally, he’d let someone sit in their foul mood because that was what he preferred. He hated people prying and digging and pushing. But she was different somehow. She didn’t irritate him as much as most did, and despite her odd mannerisms and misunderstood social cues, he somehow understood her. Was drawn to her. Not in any sort of romantic way, but still a pull to her. He’d attribute it to spending every day with her, but he’d been around long enough to know when there was more at play. Forces and fate and things he’d been pushing back against his entire life. Things he was supposed to embrace that he viewed as curses, and it made this whole relationship with Kailia complicated. He needed her to be comfortable with him, but he hated that this was also fulfilling something designed by the Fates he loathed so much.
She didn’t answer him, and he was too lost to his internal debating to push her anymore, but by the gods did she take her time eating those godsdamn pastries.
“We’re late now,” he griped when she finally stood.
