Theira laughed, easing back in her seat and popping another soup-soaked piece of bread into her mouth. A bit of soup leaked out, and as she grabbed a cloth to wipe it she noticed Varius tracking her lips.
An excellent sign, if she did say so herself.
So Theira pressed a little. “If you can’t imagine freedom for yourself, how can you expect anyone else to hope enough for themselves to do anything about it?”
He studied her. “How did you do it? How did you even imagine you could leave?”
Theira thought. “I suppose I didn’t, at first. But I started making plans in case. To give me something else to think about besides the war. To see if I could get away with it. And little by little I’d invested enough resources and time in my little side project that I started to believe in it in truth. So when the time came and I knew I had to get out or die in this war, it—it was still a shift. But not an earth-shattering one all at once. Your path will necessarily be different.”
“Because I didn’t try.”
“Because I had time to adjust, and you didn’t.”
Varius shook his head. “Even after you left, I didn’t quite believe it. And then I thought, of course Theira would be the one person able to find a way to escape this nightmare, and that still wasn’t enough of a kick in the pants to get me thinking.”
“NowthatI don’t believe,“ Theira said firmly. “You thought about it. You just didn’t see a way out that wouldn’t abandon or hurt your people.”
Varius pursed his lips but didn’t debate the point.
Theira huffed.Sohonest, even when he didn’t like the answers. That was one of the things that had always made him difficult—he saw too much.
And he proved it as he said, “Whereas you didn’t have anyone who depended on your presence, but you hoped they might depend on your absence. What were you going to do, if a house’s worth of sorceresses followed you?”
“The table extends to seat more. I have extra chairs.”
It slipped out. It wasn’t what she’d have said if she’d taken a second to think about it, and she knew that wasn’t what he was asking, not really.
But maybe it was, because Varius said softly, “The whole house is like that, isn’t it? Ready and adaptable in case anyone else ever dared believe. And you don’t just have the craft books because you needed to be able to be self-sufficient.”
He did always see too much.
Theira looked around her house that still felt, despite her best efforts, like it was missing something.
And maybe that something was people.
“I wanted them to be able to find something else they could do purely for the joy of it, if they wanted. That’s not a part of our upbringing, sorceresses.” Oh, that would sound pathetic to him, wouldn’t it? She flashed him a grin in a pitiful attempt to cover. “If you want to take up pottery, I’m prepared to make that happen.”
“And you?” Varius asked, gaze inexorable, refusing to be distracted. “Did you try something?”
Theira hesitated. Would he laugh? Of course he wouldn’t laugh. Unless maybe she laughed, and they could laugh about it together? She wasn’t sure what response she even wanted, so she evaded. “I tried a few things.”
“What did you settle on?”
Inexorable. He wouldn’t believe she’d just given up the effort. Theira shrugged self-consciously and decided to just come out with it. “Painting. I can be as messy as I want and still make something, even if it isn’t beautiful. My standards are low.”
“No, they aren’t,” Varius said with a thread of amusement, “but it’s not something it matters to be good at. Just that you have the freedom to do.”
Yes. That was it exactly.
She tried to make a joke of it. “Some of us need to practice being imperfect.”
He snorted. “You refused to continue with something you were naturally better at, didn’t you?”
Well. Maybe.
Theira glanced down at her tray for a distraction, but she’d tragically finished all the food already. Curses.
Then he asked, “Will you show me?”
