Reva
“I’m sorry, what?” Frannie squawks. She’s the full picture of surprise, jaw practically on the floor as she gapes at me and then turns her attention to stare at the stranger we’ve just freed from his chains.
Meanwhile, Kit’s blinking rapidly. I can practically see his brain whirring away in real time as he takes in my revelation.
Yeah, join the club, buddy.
“Y-your mate.” He pushes his chestnut hair off his forehead, where it immediately flops back into place.
“I think so, anyway,” I reply. Now that I’m faced with trying to explain how I just seem toknowthat’s what’s happening here, I’m coming up blank. Kind of in the same way that I know the sky is blue, or that the sunset over the ocean is beautiful.
“He, er, accidentally touched my skin and now I can feel a second heart beating. I’mfairlysure it belongs to him. That’s not actually why we came here, but we could do with a first aid kit if you’ve got one handy.”
Despite whatever he might be feeling, Kit doesn’t hesitate to gesture us through to the kitchen. I’m momentarily distracted by the line of incredibly shiny mirrors sitting on his bookshelf that weren’t here the last time I was. But I push down my urge to stroke them, scrunching my nose at Kit’s knowing smirk as he sees exactly where my attention has landed. He pulls out an industrial-sized first aid kitfrom under the kitchen sink and thwaps it onto the table, gesturing for the stranger to take a seat.
I tug the sealskin from beneath my coat and place it on the back of a chair before turning to the stranger and inspecting his cuts. Kit eyes my skin, his eyebrows all but disappearing into the thick, dark curls that tumble artfully across his forehead.
“So, your mate, eh?”
I carefully dab at the nasty cuts on the stranger’s wrist. “Is there a way of checking? A test or a swab or something we could do to check that I’ve not suddenly developed a heart condition?”
Humming under his breath for a moment, Kit then leans down and presses his ear to the stranger’s chest. “Two heartbeats.” He shrugs. “Can you, uh, feel anything different about him?”
“Like I’d met him before or known him in a previous life?” I ask, then give a slight nod. “But that’s not too different from how I felt when I first met you.”
Kit’s smile is instantaneous and it makes my stomach flip over. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.” He glances at the stranger. “Is it the same for you?”
When he looks at Kit blankly, I continue to clean the cuts before adding a witch-made salve that boasts that it can help to heal broken flesh.
“I don’t think he can understand you,” I explain. “He seems to understand Valmorian, and I’m pretty sure he can’t speak at all.”
“Right.” Kit nods a few times. “Does he at least have a name?”
“I would think so,” I reply. “I just don’t know it.”
Turning back to the stranger, I’m pleased to see the lacerations are already knitting themselves back together.
“What’s your name?” I ask him in Valmorian.
The stranger holds his hand out while I stare at it with a confused frown. He then gently tugs my hand toward him, tracing squiggles onto my palm. I frown, glancing at his face as he continues to noddown at my hand until I pay attention to what shapes those lines are forming.
My cheeks flush at the intimacy of a stranger cupping my hand and tracing shapes onto the delicate skin of my palm. I’m not used to soft touches and gentle looks. In general, there’s not a lot of room for softness in my life.
Which sounds horribly sad now that I think about it.
As he continues to keep up the slow strokes of his finger on my arm, I slowly cotton on to the fact he’s marking a pattern.
Not just any pattern, either.
Words.
I’m less familiar with Valmorian written down than spoken, so I have to focus on the sensation of his soft fingertip as he repeats the same motion over and over.
“Hello. I’m Aster,” I repeat, grinning down at him as his face lights up in excitement. “You look beautiful with your hair like that.”
Oh.
My free hand goes self-consciously to the mess of tangles around my shoulders and upper back, and I let out a little snort of disbelief that this is the first thing he’d choose to say to me. “You charmer.”
