The way Curio beams at me before he catches himself does interesting things to every part of me.
“It’s just that I’m sure you’ll have lots of questions about things, and it will be easier to address them once you’re fully suited,” he explains nonchalantly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Makes sense,” I agree, my grin growing even brighter.
“What?” he taunts, but I just laugh lightly and shake my head. “You’re addled, Moonling,” he teases, but he’s not fooling me.
He’s excited to deck me out, to see my face the first time I take it all in. It’s an unexpected side to the male who lives for either riling others up or brooding. It’s surprisingly…charming. Of course, if I said any of this to him, he’d deny it and probably act more like a dick to prove me wrong, so I keep my lips sealed, even though I can’t keep them from arcing with amusement.
We reach his forge, and I wait as he pushes the doors open. I close my eyes immediately, not wanting to see a thing and spoil the fun for both of us. An elated thrill works through me as he tucks my hand in the crook of his elbow and carefully guides me into his workshop. The heat of the fires that blaze on opposite walls of this place envelops me instantly. I fervently welcome their flickering caress as the days grow colder here. Riall said it might snow soon, but I’m not sure if that’s a welcome thing to me or not. I’m eager to see it; the way he described the blanket of white that covers everything and how it quiets the forest all around sounds magical. However, I’m not completely convinced that I’m cut out for the cold. I also don’t love the desert heat either, so who knows where that leaves me.
It’s hard not to peek as I stand bathing in the warm light while Curio moves about, making all kinds of noise. I start to think he’s doing it on purpose to throw me off the trail of what I think he’s doing, and then he’s once again in front of me, running his hands over the tops of my shoulders and down my arms. Goose bumps trail in the wake of his touch, but the black long-sleeve rind I’ve been given to wear hides my reaction to the contact.
I thought Curio’s rind bottoms were tight on my legs when I first pulled them on, but I discovered today, as I forced myself into a pair made for me, that I had no idea just how snug these things could get. I look less like I’m wearing clothes and more like someone painted my skin with a layer of obsidian. The rinds have a binding feeling when they fit like they should, but it doesn’t hinder movement, which is both impressive and incredible.
“I put several sets of rinds for you in the drawer, next to mine,” Curio tells me as he steps away.
His tone is offhanded, his focus elsewhere, but the statement is soaked in a comfortable intimacy I didn’t know we had until now. We share a room, so maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised, but we’re only in there together when we sleep, and I prefer the floor to the bed.
Would that change if I…
Curio taps my thigh, and I focus back on him. His hands tell me thathe wants me to lift my leg, so I do. He rests my foot on what must be his knee and presses something cool and hard against my outer thigh. Deft fingers make quick work of the straps that run up my inner thigh to hold the cuisse in place. I try not tofeelthings as his fingers work up my leg, but all I can seem to do since this morningisfeel.A tall boot is slipped up my calf and hooked closed along the inner seam of my rind. The tops of the boots sit just above my knee, skimming the bottom of the cuisse that was just attached.
My booted foot is set down, and Curio taps me for the other, repeating the same steps of cuisse and then boot. After that, he fixes something around my waist. It ends below my hip bones and rises to just under my bust. Once that’s affixed at the side, a chest piece follows.
“Cup your breasts and adjust them until they don’t feel compressed,” Curio instructs, his breath tickling the skin of my neck.
The sensation ushers a shiver up my spine. His chest skims my back as I do what I’m told, reaching into the breast plate and adjusting myself until it feels right. As soon as I drop my hands, Curio tightens the armor around my chest and then moves on to fit my arms. Supple rerebraces and vambraces fit to my upper and lower arms, and then the next thing I know, Curio is pulling fingerless gloves over my hands.
It’s hard to think past how he’s touching me as he buckles, laces, and fixes me into the kit. The smell of him and his workroom is surprisingly comforting, and I wander through the memories of the first time he brought me here. The way he stroked my hair and worked to soothe me as I fought off an unexpected rush of panic. Curio let me in that day, he let me peer into his past in order to help me banish mine, and now he’s giving me a priceless piece of my future. Warmth blooms in my chest, and I try not to fidget as it slowly spreads through me.
I don’t know what I look like, but I can already tell that everything he’s attaching to my body fits like a glove. It’s hard like metal yet contoured to my form perfectly like boiled leather. Nothing seems bulky or without purpose. Curio has masterfully crafted something that’s thoroughly protective but still allows me to move as though I’m only wearing the rind. He’s spent hours upon hours out here working on this kit for me. Hammering, shaping, and painstakingly caring for every piece that he’s now strapping to my body.
It fills me with a tender regard I’ve never experienced before. His generosity, skill, and effort will protect me in more ways than I ever thought anyone or anything could. And it’s not just him either. The meals, the training, the time and space I’ve been given to lunge forward or retreat back as I figure out my way in this world. There’s been subtle guidance mixed in with answers and brazen commands. And then there’s the soft and sometimes not so soft invitation that underlies everything, the offer to have all of this at my fingertips forever, if I’ll just give in.
The thought of bogging myself down, of tethering my future to anyone or anything when I’d only just gotten a grasp on my present, was too much. What they were offering, what they hoped for in return was more than I could give. But I’m realizing that I don’t feel that way anymore. This place, them, I stopped picturing a future without either. I don’t know exactly when it happened or how, but the hunt with Eacon opened my eyes and made me aware that things have changed.I’ve changed…and so, I’m discovering, is what I want.
Something slips into place on the outer side of my boot, and I realize with an excited rush that Curio is sliding blades into the sheaths he’s hidden throughout my armor. It makes me think of that first night in the ludere when I was disarming Tarek before his bath. I thought I’d never stop pulling knives from the hidden compartments that Curio is now arming on me. If someone had told me that night that I’d end up here, I’d have probably tried to slit their throat for attempting to curse me. Now look at me being fitted like the princess of death, all because three Scorpions decided I was worthy.
I hope I am.
“Almost done,” Curio assures me, and I hear him moving around the workshop again.
Rolling my neck, I shift my weight and start getting a feel for the kit now encasing me. I know Curio made a mold of me to help him fit everything just right, and that he’s had to make several adjustments as I’ve filled out more, but I didn’t anticipate that armor could feel like a second skin. If Curio is this good at kits and weapons, I can’t wait to watch him kill. I’m all at once certain that he must be primal poetry in motion. I bet they all are. The thought sparks an ember of bloodlust that starts to glow and warm my chest. I know we’re not headed out to hunt per se—we’re merely collecting information—but I’m suddenly excited to see the Scorpions in their element.
Scaling the walls of the manor to take out Dorsin the way they did is a feat I now know to be just shy of impossible. How they even approached the ludere from the empty desert surrounding it, let alone breached the walls and then the manor without being noticed, is something I still can’t wrap my mind around. Dorsin apparently had the manor and compound warded so the Scorpions couldn’t rely on their thura. In the end, it didn’t matter; they’re deadly with or without their abilities. They’re the best of the best, and I’m being allowed a front row seat to all of it. That used to make me wary, but now I feel more honored and grateful for everything they freely teach me and demonstrate.
Something slides into place diagonally behind my shoulders, and I realize Curio must have strapped a scabbard there. I’m practically jittery with anticipation. Curio better let me look soon; I don’t think I can hold off much longer. Another weapon is strapped in place behind the other shoulder. I teeter slightly as two other blades are slipped into position at the small of my back, and then Curio grows still as silence slinks into the space between us.
“You can look now, Moonling,” Curio declares, his voice heavy with pride and wicked promise.
I pull in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, as I take a moment to center myself before I open my eyes. A tall, simple mirror has been leaned against the work table, ready to reflect my image back to me. It takes me a moment to process what I’m seeing.
She’s fierce, the stunning fae who’s staring back at me. Bright hair is plaited back from a face that glows with health and contentment. Even the sun spots that dot the bridge of her nose and cheeks look pleased. Raw, wild power simmers in her eyes as she stands there encased in protective perfection. She’s strong, intimidating, formidable…she’s…me.
From head to toe, the armor looks exactly as it feels, utterly perfect. I’m covered in a smooth black that hugs my every curve as though the shadows themselves have hardened to adorn me. I pivot slightly, the inky-black of the armor almost absorbing light instead of reflecting it. A pattern of onyx moon cycles line the outsides of my legs. I reach down to touch the different lunar phases, awed by the subtle detail of them, and gasp when I realize they’re the handles of push daggers.
“Full moons, half-moons, crescent moons, all the moons, now just as deadly as myMoonling,” Curio tells me, and my eyes flick from the gorgeous little daggers hidden down my legs to his warm ardent eyes.
