After ushering two healed souls into the Paradise of Rest, he took the opportunity to sneak away.
He walked the path of his garden, his sights set on the entrance of Finnian’s Grove. Its iron gate was flanked by blooming violets.
Halfway, his steps faltered.
Whenever you wish to see me again.
It had been nearly a month in the Mortal Land since he’d last seen Finnian. A short breath of time that felt like ages.
The yearning in Cassian consumed his thoughts, especially after their last encounter in Finnian’s townhome with the sigil and pleasant conversation.
Cassian surfed his fingers through his hair, conflicted. Could he show up with no warning? Finnian had not summoned him since, and what of Ruelle? He knew she was watching him, waiting?—
Stop overthinking it.
He dropped his hand, his shoulder slumped, and he sighed. The perpetual ache in his chest hadn’t let up since he departed Finnian.
I miss him.
Letting that single thought steer his actions, he rearranged his appearance into Everett—of dark strands and vibrant blue eyes.
The gilded darkness of his divine power furled around him, and he disappeared.
The earthy,floral scent of Finnian’s home washed over him, braiding in his hair and sticking to the material of his tailcoat.
He stood in the center of the apothecary room they had been in last time.
The room was dark and cool. Various bundles of herbs hung upside down from the ceiling, drying. The workbench was cluttered with an open grimoire, gibberish scribbles on the page, crystals, bones tampered together with twine, and open vials.
Cassian smiled at the mess.
He didn’t sense Finnian’s presence nearby. It appeared Cassian was alone. A good excuse to leave.
Instead, he sauntered across the room to the wooden staircase leading up to an open door.
He stepped inside a small kitchen. A mortar and pestle sat on the round table in the corner. Beside it was a ceramic cup and a stainless steel percolator. No steam came from either, but Cassian could smell the remnants of coffee in the cup. They’d been sitting out for a while.
Finnian likes coffee. The detail was small, intimate; Cassian stored the information in his mind like a precious jewel.
Up against the brick wall was a wood stove with a cast iron pot and a teakettle on the unlit burners. Positioned on the other side near the window was a wooden cabinet and a washbasin on its surface. The look of a typical mortal home. It was far from the moonstone crystal palace Finnian had grown up in. It appeared the young god favored simplicity over lavishness.
Cassian shifted his weight to glance around the threshold. The old wooden planks creaked beneath his feet.
The short corridor led into a sitting room. Mahogany-threaded couches faced a small hearth where embers in its pit faintly glowed. He could see Finnian sitting with his two apprentices, begrudgingly teaching them how to spark a flame with their magic.
A twinge of jealousy struck Cassian’s chest.
He strolled over to the kitchen table to take a seat. Halfway through the room, the energy in the air shifted and a warped gust ruffled behind him.
“I was starting to believe you had forgotten about me.” Finnian’s voice traveled through him, a silvery ring of chimes.
He pursed his lips to control the width of his smile before turning around. “Impossible. The war keeps me busy is all.”
“Well then, I am glad you found the time to drop by.” Finnian started unfastening the buttons of his billowy, long-sleeved shirt, one by one. The flash of his rings mesmerized Cassian. “I had business to sort out. I am glad I did not miss your visit.”
“Business that required you to button your shirt, I see,” Cassian mumbled.
Though, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Finnian’s collar hanging open, exposing the arches of his clavicles and the defined cuts of his torso, his bare skin the shade of maple syrup. His black strands were down and perched over his shoulders, a stark contrast to the beige linen.
