Before, I believed there was no chance I’d be sent home, no way I would ever have to give up my mate. But now, I’m not so certain.
A strange pallor falls over the day after that. Both Khesan and I are troubled, and Fiona has no assurances for either of us.
What a cruel trick for the gods to play.
She has to return to work the next day, but it’s the only one until “New Year’s.” That’s when the human calendar will change over from one year to the next.
I look forward to getting to spend more time with Fiona, though I’m not sure what that will look like now. My fury toward Khesan has gone numb since we learned the truth. No wonder he also believed he was meant to be here.
We both are, for some reason. But the little matchmaker was clear that one of us will have to return to Arshur mateless. That eventuality will not be pleasant for anyone.
Despite the mood, we run “errands,” as Fiona calls it. We flit from one store to the next, shopping for groceries, picking up supplies for the party, and buying more alcohol.
I am both anxious and excited for the Christmas party, as I’m not sure what the customs are. And I will meet even more of Fiona’s friends, who may, like Marguerite, be judging which one of us is better for her.
I can’t underestimate the importance of others’ opinions on her decision. And now, the stakes of that decision have just gotten much higher.
When we get home, it’s time to decorate. Fiona gives us rolls of thin paper in bright, flashy colors to drape around the house, then she starts hanging huge snowflakes from the ceiling. Khesan and I work together to put up the streamers, and then it’s time to decorate the outside of the house.
“This is trickier,” Fiona says, clearly uncertain as she picks up a huge box of lights. “Someone will have to get up on the tall ladder to hang these.”
Khesan immediately snaps his claws. “I will do it.”
I’m fine with that, because I’m not particularly fond of heights.
Snow begins to fall as we erect the ladder out front. Fiona and I pass the lights up to Khesan, and he hangs them from the eaves. It’s a tedious process: first, he has to come down, then we move the ladder, and then he goes up again. But eventually we get one string of lights across the ground floor of the house.
Then we move on to the second floor. We have to extend the ladder farther, and the sun is getting low in the sky, leaving less light to work by. I feel an unfurling of nervousness in my belly as Khesan climbs up to the very top to hang the lights.
As if I had predicted it, Khesan slips. He lets out a cry as his feet leave the step of the ladder. He reaches out to grab a rung with his hands, but he can’t get a grip and continues his tumble downward.
Before I’ve even instructed my feet to move, I’m underneath him. I barely have time to get my arms out before he smashes into them, and the velocity and force of his fall makes me stumble. I hit the ground, and there’s a sharp pain in my elbow as Khesan’s larger weight lands on it.
“Vakha!” I howl, that sharp pain spreading up my arm. Khesan rolls off of me, and grunts as he tries to get to his feet. Fiona rushes over to us, grabbing Khesan’s arm to help him up.
“Shathar!” She gets down on her knees to offer me a hand, too. “Are you all right?”
I take her hand with my good arm and she pulls me up to a sitting position. My injured arm is still throbbing, but when I test it, I don’t think it’s broken.
“I’m all right.” Then I glance at Khesan, who is still bent over, panting. “Are you?”
He nods, but he’s clearly rattled. Then he glances up at me, and his expression is pained. “I would be a lot more injured if it weren’t for you.”
I nod, as this is true. I rub my elbow to see if there’s any damage, but I think it’s just bruised.
“Show me,” says Fiona, so I do, extending it out to her. She pushes up my sleeve and frowns at it. “It’s turning blue.”
“That’s all right.” I push my sleeve back down. “It will heal.”
Fiona squints at me. “Okay. Let’s get inside and warm up, then make sure neither of you need an ER visit.”
Inside, Fiona heats up water and makes both of us a “hot cocoa,” which is a chocolate powder mixed into the hot water with a few hardened marshmallows on top. It’s not unpleasant, though, and it feels good going down my throat compared to the cold weather outside.
Khesan’s leg hurts after the fall, so Fiona examines it, testing the knee to make sure nothing is severely damaged. But I think, like me, he’s just badly bruised.
I’m up next, and we determine that my bones aren’t broken, either. We are just both a bit “banged up,” as Fiona says.
She sits back in her chair and sighs with relief. “All right, no more hanging lights. Can’t risk another fall.”
