“You never asked.” She glanced up at him with a smirk that reached her eyes.
Rhavor looked away, his throat tightening. “I want you to know how much this all means to me, Sylvie. This land... it means a lot to me.”
He sighed, the sound heavy. “I can’t be uprooted from this place. I want you to know that. But I can’t expect you to just accept this. It’s a package deal you didn’t sign up for.”
“I like the package already,” she said softly, her gaze returning to the goat.
Rhavor’s chest constricted—sharp, physical.
She looked down at the shirt, her cheeks flushing. “Sorry for stealing this. I need to get some things from my flat. I’m a bit... underdressed for farm work.”
Before he could tell her she could wear every bloody shirt he owned—or, even better, wear nothing at all —a dust cloud rolled up the driveway.
A car approached, the engine whining.
Arla, Julian, and Myrtle tumbled out of the vehicle, looking far too pleased with themselves—like they’d spent the morning plotting a coup.
“We thought you might need a few things!” Julian chirped, waving a hand at Sylvie. “Essentials!”
“I’ll handle Tommy,” Arla said, taking the goat from Sylvie’s lap with a smooth motion. “You two go inside. You look like you need coffee.”
They walked back toward the car. When they moved the “essentials” to the house it looked more like an entire household had been packed into bags and boxes and shoved into the trunk.
Julian unzipped one bad dramatically and pulled out a sheer lace dress and a slip that shimmered like liquid silk in the morning sun.
Not remotely farm-appropriate.
Exactly what Rhavor wanted to see her in.
He smirked despite himself, his gaze lingering on the silk.
“Thanks,” Sylvie said quickly, her face turning a vivid shade of crimson as she snatched the lace and silk before anyone else—namely, Rhavor—could admire them too closely.
“Don’t worry,” Vera added, opening another bag. “We brought the practical things too. Boots. Jeans. Things for the mud.”
“So,” Arla said as she stepped inside the room, her presence filling the room, “what’s the plan?”
“We’ll spend the next week unpacking and trying not to strangle Ronda,” Rhavor muttered, leaning against the counter.
“We won’t back down,” Sylvie said firmly.
He stilled, his eyes snapping to hers.
“If it’s money they want,” she said, steady and certain, “we’ll get it. We’ll find a way.”
We.
His dragon lifted its head inside him, roaring with approval.
We.It sounded right. Like a puzzle piece clicking into place after years of being lost.
Arla smirked, her arms crossed over her massive chest. “Your chickens better grow a sixth gear, Rhavor. You’ll need orders coming out of your ears to get Ronda off your back.”
Vera stayed quiet for a moment, thoughtful, her gaze tracking the dust motes in the air.
“What if we offer something they’d value more than money?” she said slowly.
Rhavor frowned. “Meaning? Ronda only values things she can spend or use as leverage.”
