“Your gift,” I replied, approaching her. I watched as her gaze darted over the shelves I’d had installed yesterday morning, stacked with supplies I’d purchased from the shopkeeper. Pencils, paper of different varieties—ranging from nearly transparent to thick parchment that was even difficult to tear, sketchbooks, brushes, and paints in nearly every color imaginable. I’d cleaned out most of the shop, truth be told, making the shopkeeper’s eyes bulge.
And I worried that maybe it was too much, judging by the look of confusion on my mate’s features…but I hadn’t wanted to miss something important. Kythel would have known what supplies Erina might need. He had an interest in this, but the rest of us would’ve known nothing.
“My…my gift,” she repeated. “The table?”
I laughed, reaching forward to cup her cheek. She craned her neck up to look at me, though she was continually distracted by the shelf, drawn in by the sheets of paper and the stack of notebooks.
“Everything,” I murmured. “All of it is yours.”
“What?”
I released her to gesture around the room. “Your studio. There is still one more thing coming. I had a desk made for you, custom to your height. So you can write there instead of on the drafting table. It’s being lacquered today, but I suppose…I couldn’t wait to show you.”
She stared up at me as if I’d grown two heads.
“You…you made me a studio?”
“Yes,” I replied, trying to read her and for the first time, failing. “I know you like to write and draw in the garden, but I thought you could use this room too. It’s yours. You can do with it whatever you please.”
Had I…miscalculated?
“Oh,” she said, looking down between us, at the plush rug I’d had Maudoric purchase in the village, one that had curling vines and little leaves.
Erina promptly burst into tears, and I froze in dismay.
I took her into my arms when the shock passed, pressing her face into my chest. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice tight. “I shouldn’t have assumed. I’ll get rid of?—”
“No!” she said, pulled away quickly. Looking up at me with a tear-stained face, her brown eyes glistening, she looked miserable as she cried, “I love it! Don’t you dare change a thing.”
Startled, I asked, “You do?”
“Yes!” she cried and then dissolved into full sobs again, leaving me standing there helplessly bewildered, mildly concerned, and somewhat relieved.
“What’s wrong, then?” I asked, threading my hand into her hair, rubbing at the back of her neck as if that might calm her down.
“N-Nothing. It’s perfect,” she sobbed. “Too perfect. I—I didn’t expect it. I’m just surprised.”
My brow furrowed, continuing to rub at her neck even as my wings twitched in indecision. She continued to cry against me as I deliberated what to do.
“You like it?” I asked again after a long moment had passed.
When she looked up at me, this time she tried to give me a watery smile, laughing. “Yes.”
My shoulders finally relaxed.
But then her eyes strayed to the left wall, at the painting I’d taken from the orphanage. Maudoric had had it reframed for me.
Erina held her breath as she stumbled from my arms. “Is that?—”
“Yes,” I replied, trailing after her. “I did something bad.”
“You,” she started, but then the words caught in her throat. She stopped directly in front of the painting, peering up at it with wide, glassy eyes. I stopped beside her, worried she might burst into tears again, my hand coming to the small of her back. “How did you get this?”
“I stole it,” I informed her, quirking a brow. “Well, took it. Technically Vyaan, and by extension me, owns the land the orphanage stands on.”
She turned to me, her expression still stunned. “You went there?”
I inclined my head. “It sounded important to you. I wanted you to have it back.”
