He’s frowning now. “That was only weeks ago.”
I’m beginning to feel like we’re having two different conversations.
“Yes,” I say slowly. “The shockwave wiped out a lot of the magic that was embedded in the Crystal Hollow’s infrastructure. I’ve been sorting through and salvaging what I could. So a lot of these pieces were still functional; I just had to combine them.”
Which is why, yes, my cottage looks a little... sloping. Okay fine, lopsided, and mismatched besides. It’s a weird amalgamation of a bunch of different houses and stores and whatever else.
ButImade it what it is. It’smine.
Or I thought it was, a few minutes ago.
The man’s eyebrows draw down. “That’s incredibly dangerous,” he tells me. “Destabilized magical workings—”
“I’m a null,” I explain.
His jaw snaps shut as he stares some more.
How did he think I was managing to live here at the epicenter?
Come to think of it, how ishefunctioning here? It’s pretty uncomfortable for anyone with a little magic, and dire for anyone with more—so, you know, that covers literally everyone but me—to be here.
“So you’re... not here to evict me,” I say slowly.
He blinks. “What? No.”
I officially have no idea what’s going on.
“But you let yourself into my house,” I point out.
“I didn’t know anyone lived here.”
Is...hedefensive now?
“But now you do, and you’re blocking the doorway so I can’t come in?”
That visibly startles him. He mutters something under his breath and runs a hand through his hair, mussing it further.
I missed that, before; his hair is mussed, like the wind has blown it every which way.
Actually it looks like it might have some leaves in it.
Maybe he’s not quite as uptight as he appears.
And an extremely attractive uptight stranger looking mussed in my house should definitely not lookso appealing.
“My apologies,” he says stiffly, stepping back. “Please, come in.”
And then he winces—I’m guessing at the realization that he just invited me into my own house.
“Thank you,” I say easily, smoothing over the moment—distracting people from mistakes, my specialty born of necessity—and cross the threshold.
Into my house, where a mysterious handsome stranger has intruded.
“Don’t you need your things?” he asks gruffly.
“Oh!” In the shock of seeing him here, I’d forgotten why I was in such a rush to get inside. “Is everything okay? I saw the dragon scales out front and wasn’t sure if—ah, someone had been hurt?”
There I go again, belatedly realizing that telling a priest I’m worried about a dragon is maybe not my best move.
