“I’m going to press charges,” he was already saying to Severath, unaware that the giant demon warrior was only looking at Aofe with a concerned but understanding gaze.
“Kiz,” Aofe said, a little louder, but when he continued to detail what he’d seen as he returned, she’d had enough. “Kiz!”
He immediately fell silent, eyes widening.
Aofe swallowed, curling into herself as much as she could. She pulled her hand out of his. “I want to go home.”
“But—”
“Please,” she said, barely louder than a breath. “I just want to forget about this and go home.”
His chest rose and fell, then his chin dipped.An answer, and yet he said nothing as his tail wrapped around her crutches and handed them back to her. He helped her stand and pointed toward the exit, Attie lingering close and Kizros following behind. Severath was quiet, still holding the squirming demon as Aofe limped past, but she didn’t acknowledge the teen. She only gave Severath a small nod, one that he returned, and continued on her way.
By the time they were sitting in a cart and heading backto the shop, Attie curled on the seat next to her, Kizros still hadn’t spoken. He stared out at the street, pensive, and Aofe could feel her insides twisting even more uncomfortably than the pain in her hip. Gone was the sharpness of her muscles spasming, leaving her with a soreness that would likely dull further with a warm bath and some gentle stretching.
Aofe chanced a closer look at Kizros, his fist pressed to his mouth and chin as he held his head up. He’d picked the corner as far from her as possible, kept his gaze anywhere but on her.
Disappointment—that’s all she could see from this angle with his deflated posture and glasses fogging from his breath. And she’d been the one to put that emotion there.
He’d been so happy at the festival, talking to all of his acquaintances, playing the games, and visiting the art stations. That unreserved smile was gone now, and it was all because of her.
She’d asked to leave. She’d been the one to inconvenience him with two cart trips because she couldn’t walk the short distance to the event. She’d been the reason his fun evening had suddenly become a disaster.
Did he regret taking her in yet? Not only had she slowly been affecting his business, now she’d brought out a side of him that he despised. Kizros, the demon who abhorred violence, had raised his voice not once now, but twice.
Because of her.
Tears pricked her eyes again, and Aofe sworeto herself that she wouldn’t break. Not here in this cart, not in the shop, and not behind closed doors. Maybe she could wait until he disappeared and do something for the apothecary to make up for being such a burden. She could sweep the aisles, assuming she could manage staying upright for that long. Water all the plants, take inventory, reorganize the garden beds in the greenhouse. She wouldn’t touch the potions or ingredients, lest another disgruntled customer accuse her of tampering with their strengths, but there were other things she could do to earn her keep.
Possibly reach out to Rosalind or Brioni to see if that post position was still available to her.
She was still mentally forming a list of tasks when they pulled up to Perennial Bloom. In silence, Kiz helped her into the shop, locking up behind them. He didn’t offer to carry her up the stairs, but he did hover behind as she took each slow step to the apartment.
Kizros set their purchases down on the living room table, then started to putter—reorganizing the throw pillows, shifting the vase of flowers, dusting invisible lint off the back of the couch. Delaying. Leaving her with her thoughts spiraling.
Sensing the inevitable, Attie whimpered and trotted into Aofe’s room.
Traitor.
Then she steeled herself. “Kiz.”
He stuttered a step but didn’t turn to face her. “Hmm?”
“Are you mad at me?”
Kizros’s tail flicked, barely missing the vase as he spun to face her. “What?”
“You were looking forward to tonight, so I was trying to make it through, and then that demon… I made you leave?—”
She fiddled with her crutches, finally noticing that in the fall, the vines he’d braided over the wood had been trampled. Or, perhaps, he was the reason the flowers were wilting so soon.
Aofe hadn’t meant to cry, but that was a tear slipping down her cheek, and then another. A sob broke from her chest, and then she didn’t know how to stop any of it.
“Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin everything. I’ll pay for tonight”—she still didn’t know how, or if she even had money to spend in this realm—“and work any extra hours to make up for it. Whatever you need, I’ll do it, just please don’t ignore me. I promise, I won’t inconvenience you again, Uncle.”
It was only as she hiccuped that she realized the slip, but it didn’t matter. Suddenly Kizros was there, sweeping her into his arms. There was a gentle sway, and then he was sitting on the couch with her cradled to his body. Another warmth wrapped around her, and Aofe was so desperate for his touch that she buried herself deeper into his embrace.
“Aofe. Aofe,” he whispered into her hair, his hand stroking over her neck. “Shh, nothing is ruined. You did nothing wrong, sunshine. Nothing at all. I’m not mad at you.”
