And now she also knew he was at her mercy, that he had no hidden strategy she needed to counter, that she could kill him at any time without worry. A first, for them. Varius might have been ashamed if he hadn’t suspected she was nonplussed.
He stared at this sorceress, his once-best enemy, who waited with endless patience for him to get to the godscursed point. He sucked in a breath to greet her politely and make his case, to explain and formally request her forbearance, but what made it out was:
“I had nowhere else to go.”
The words dropped into the night like a stone in a pool.
Theira’s deeply expressive eyes flickered, knowing.
Unimaginable, that his life had somehow come to this.
But the empire he had given his life and body and soul to had betrayed him—betrayed them all. No one there could protect him or anyone else any longer.
Varius had spent almost his whole life at war, and now it was only an enemy he could turn to.
Theira held his gaze for a long moment and then said, “You’d better come in.”
He didn’t register what she’d said until the door swung further open, letting out not just the light and warmth from inside, but revealing a clean entryway lined with life—overgrown potted plants, a rack for coats, a pair of gardening boots nestled in their own tray. A place where everything in her life fit, even if, like her own personality, it was always spilling out the seams.
He didn’t fit. There wouldn’t be a neat place for him where he wouldn’t intrude on everything else.
This was her home. She’d gotten away, and now he was going to drag her back down with him.
Not that she had to let him.
When he didn’t move, Theira finally asked, “Is there a problem?”
Varius was too tired, and possibly in shock, and couldn’t put words together. Finally he blurted, “I’m bleeding.”
“I see that,” Theira said dryly, “and I also see no reason to patch you up out in the cold when I have a perfectly good house with all my materials inside.”
She wanted to patch him up?
And did she sound defensive, or was he imagining it?
She continued, “Are you really going to show up at my doorstep and expect me to make myself uncomfortable for you?”
“No!” His denial was immediate, emphatic. Varius shook his head, and his gaze caught on the warm entryway behind her. “I just...”
The longing in his look, visibly overwhelmed, must have, embarrassingly, communicated itself without further words, because Theira just said, softly, “Oh.” And then, dry once again: “After all these years, I promise I can clean up blood, Varius. There won’t be any sign of stains.”
The stains of his presence, of the war itself.
She understood. Of course she did. Her life had been as bloody as his, after all.
Still— “I’ll clean it,“ he swore impulsively, his voice rough.
Her eyebrows lifted. “Well get in here then, and close the door behind you.”
Varius took a deep breath, winced again at his fucking ribs and then himself because Theira’s eyebrows abruptly drew down as she noticed.
He crossed the threshold.
And turned to lift his arm to close the door as she’d directed when it slammed shut behind him with worrying speed and force.
He was closed in her lair now.
His heart thumped.
