She looks up when I enter and something passes across her expression. Not quite wariness, but not warmth either. That careful neutrality she's adopted since learning about the contract. Since I became her owner in the eyes of the law even though the thought makes me want to set the whole fucking document on fire.
"Valas." She doesn't stop kneading but her movements slow slightly. "Is everything alright? Is Amisra?—"
"She's fine." I move further into the room but keep my distance, leaning against the opposite counter with my hands braced on the edge. Giving her space even though I want to cross the room and pull her into my arms so badly my fingers ache with it. "Well. Not fine. But she's... managing."
Keira nods, her hazel eyes—green at the edges like moss after rain—tracking my face like she's searching for something. Signs of how I'm holding up, maybe. Evidence that I'm breaking apart without someone to lean on.
She wouldn't be wrong.
"I'm taking her away for a few days. Maybe a week." The words come out steadier than I feel. "There's a cabin outside the city. Quiet, peaceful, no memories of..." I gesture vaguely, unable to finish the sentence.
"That sounds good for her." Keira's hands still in the dough, her attention fully on me now. "She needs a break from this place. You both do."
The 'both' doesn't escape my notice. She's including me in that assessment and something warm unfurls in my chest despite everything.
"She wants you to come with us."
Keira blinks, surprise flickering across her features. "She does?"
"Asked specifically." I force myself to maintain eye contact even though every instinct wants me to look away, to not see if she rejects this. Rejects us. "Said she wants you there. And I... I would like you to come too. If you're willing."
The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we're not saying. All the words I'm swallowing back because I promised her time. All the feelings I'm desperately trying not to let show on my face because the last thing she needs is me pressuring her when she's already struggling with the power imbalance between us.
"You don't have to," I add quickly. "I know you need space and I'm not—this isn't me using the contract or trying to force you into anything. It's just... Amisra asked. And I'm asking. But you can absolutely say no and I'll explain to her that you have responsibilities here or?—"
"I'll go."
The words stop my rambling mid-sentence. I stare at her, not quite believing what I heard.
"You will?"
"I will." She pulls her hands from the dough and wipes them on a cloth, her expression softening into something that looks almost like understanding. "Amisra needs people she trusts right now. And if having me there helps her feel safe, then of course I'll go."
Relief floods through me so intensely I have to grip the counter harder to stay upright. "Thank you, starlight. Thank you."
The endearment slips out before I can stop it. The name I started calling her months ago, when she was still keeping me at arm's length but letting me closer inch by careful inch. When Irealized she was like a guiding star in the darkness—bright and steady and showing me a path I hadn't known I was looking for.
Bright like the stars I first saw her under.
Beautiful in a way I want to stare at the rest of my life.
Her breath catches and I see the way her fingers tighten on the cloth. The way her gaze drops to the counter between us before lifting again, meeting mine with something raw and vulnerable in those hazel depths.
I should walk away. Should thank her again and leave before I say something I can't take back, before I push too hard against the fragile boundaries we're trying to maintain.
But I can't seem to make myself move.
"Do you remember?" The words escape despite my better judgment. "That night in the kitchen. When you asked what you were to me."
Her throat works on a swallow. "I remember."
"Do you remember what I said?"
"You said..." She pauses, her voice dropping quieter. "You said I wasn't property. That I was someone you'd really like to know."
"I meant it then." I push off the counter but don't move closer, just stand there with my hands at my sides and my heart somewhere in the vicinity of my throat. "I mean it now. The contract doesn't change that, Keira. It doesn't change how I see you or what I want or why I've spent the last eight months trying to earn your trust."
Her eyes search my face and I let her look. Let her see every raw edge, every desperate hope, every feeling I'm trying so hard to keep contained because she asked for time and I'll give her all the time in the world if that's what it takes.
