Shit, should he? Usually he only wore them for required functions with his family or fancy art shows. This wasn’t either of those, but it was important. Maybe important? Important to him.
“Kizros! What are you doing in there?” Aofe called from the living room. “Attie keeps pacing in front of your door.”
Fuck it. He jammed his fingers back in the green strandsand scrubbed, returning it to his normal, messy style. With one more tug on the rolled cuffs of his shirt, he blew out a breath and called it good enough.
He found Aofe sitting on the couch, bent over as she tied the laces of her boots. Beige leggings hugged her calves and thighs, disappearing underneath a midnight blue skirt that hit above her knees. Her baggy sweater was the same color as her leggings, sprinkled with light blue… they looked like stars from a distance, but when he got closer, he could make out the little petals of each embroidered flower.
Attie had apparently given up pacing in favor of lying flat on her belly to occasionally nudge Aofe’s fingers with her nose while she finished lacing her boots. They both looked up when he came into view.
“Hi,” Aofe said, a pink flush to her cheeks. She quickly blew away a strand of blue hair that fell into her eyes, blinking as she scanned his body. “You look… um, wow.”
“Is that good?” he asked, glancing down at himself. He’d tried on every shirt he owned before settling on this one, but if she didn’t like it, he might just give up on the evening and the possibility of ever impressing her again.
“Very good, Kiz,” she reassured him, sliding her arms into her crutches to stand. The atteapir stood with her, wedging herself between Aofe’s legs and the couch to help her up. “Thanks, Attie.”
“You look very beautiful.”
She huffed a laugh, then tapped her crutches. “Thank you. I think I might need some of that paint you sold Azrionyesterday so I can spruce these guys up for special occasions.”
That was an option, or…
“Hold on,” he said, then snagged a few blades of steel grass from the vase on the side table.
Kizros knelt in front of Aofe, tying half the grass on her left crutch and the rest on her right. Extending one of his claws, he closed his eyes and made the proper adjustments to his calculations. Once he was satisfied, he opened them again and carved the rune into the blades.
“What are you—oh,” Aofe gasped, watching as the blades of grass grew and twisted down the legs of her crutches, sprouting two shades of blue flowers, just as he’d planned. When he stood, Aofe was still admiring the artistry. “Aw, they match my sweater.”
Kizros fought a wider smile when she beamed up at him, tucking her blue hair back behind her ears. “Yeah. Your sweater.” He gestured to the stairs. “You ready?”
She nodded, letting Attie lead the way down the stairs to the cart waiting out front. It wasn’t a long walk, but Kizros wasn’t going to put any more strain on Aofe’s body when she’d finally agreed to come out with him.
Maybe he’d been a little desperate when he claimed this festival was the best way to welcome in the summer, but it was a yearly tradition he always loved. And this year, he had two ulterior motives for going. The first, a more primal need in him to show off the woman he was currently courting during the day and knotting at night. Thesecond, an even more selfish desire to show that woman more of the city she had yet to explore.
In three weeks, Aofe had yet to step outside the front door except for his family’s dinner. Even he was prone to holing up in the apothecary, but that’s why he always scheduled tea with Ragnar or strolls in the park or even nights out. Aofe had actively avoided anything that required leaving until he’d practically begged her to go with him tonight. At this point, he just wanted her to know there was more to Heck than him and his shop, just in case. Let her know she had options and make himself not feel as if he was caging her.
Kizros stayed silent on the ride, watching Aofe take in the streets like she’d done their first day. He tried to read her looks, analyze where her gaze lingered or passed over certain landmarks, but she made no indication—through smiles or facial expressions—whether she was interested in anything.
Even as they pulled up to the park, her chin only lifted slightly to see the gated archway and strung demonlights down the pathway inside.
“It’s pretty,” Aofe said as he helped her down from the cart, his tail lowering her crutches. A few demons frowned at the cart as they walked around, but the moment Attie hopped out of the carriage, they hurried away.
“Just wait until we’re inside,” Kizros said with a grin, leading her to the entry. He pointed to the iron gates as theypassed. “See those figures twisting around the scrolls and finials? That’s the history of Heck.”
Demons shuffled past them, giving Attie a wide berth as Kizros explained the human sorcerers who had summoned their founding ancestors and attempted to enslave them, resulting in the poisoning of the forest that created the Dreadmoor and Veilwood surrounding the city.
Aofe listened, asking him questions about the growth of the city, the council, and the advancements they’d made once they realized they couldn’t return to their plane. He took all of this as a good sign—that she was curious enough to want to know where she now resided but also learn more about its history and what made it special. She lingered closer to him as they walked, still keeping an eye on the ground and Attie who trotted alongside her.
He continued to talk, going off on tangents as he was prone to do, while they strolled the pathways around the festival. There were games under canopies, a divination stall that Aofe actively avoided, and stages set up with various acts of comedies, plays, and even magic competitions. At one point, he could have sworn he saw Tarzul, the Horn of Finances, but the demon ducked behind a tent and disappeared before Kizros could say hello.
Then a few food stalls caught Aofe’s attention, so he bought her everything: meats, cheeses, a sweater, and gold hair clips to match the rest of her gold jewelry.
When Kizros finally spotted an opentable, he walked ahead to claim it, unloading his arms of their snacks. “Oh, you should try this first?—”
“Attie, stop!” Aofe blurted, and Kizros spun to find her chasing after the atteapir who had switched directions. The silver creature circled a tall red demon, who had his hands up and away from her, his body tense as he remained perfectly still. Another human, somehow smaller than Aofe, stood off to the side watching with mild interest.
Kizros made it to the demon at the same time Aofe did, but he pulled up short as Attie plopped her butt down on the male’s boots.
No, not just any red demon.
