He takes a moment to recover his bearings. “We don’t have to do anything we’re not prepared for. There’s no pressure.”
There is pressure, just not from him. “It’s probably silly, but I always assumed marriage would come first,” I admit.
His back straightens, and I’m uncertain how to interpret the look that crosses his handsome face. He quickly schools his features into neutrality, and I rush to explain myself.
“It’s how things are generally done in Cluain Baile. Most maidens are married fairly young because it increases our chance of … survival, you know? I’m an exception for obvious reasons. It was too risky. But I’d always assumed I’d marry out of obligation rather than—” I stop myself, carefully considering my next words. “Rather than … whatever this is.” If things had carried on as usual, I would’ve likely married Osheen out of convenience. That thought turns my stomach for far too many reasons.
Tiernan’s posture loosens as a smile eclipses his neutral expression.
“Not that I’m saying we need to get married.” I bite my lip to shut myself up, but more words fly out. “And now, I’ve probably scared you off.”
His smile falters slightly, but he shakes his head. “I’m not that easily scared off.”
He takes my hands and faces me squarely before releasing me to sign, “We don’t have to rush into anything. I don’t want you to feel pressured. No matter what, at any moment, you haveevery right to bring anything and everything to a halt. I willalwaysstop if something makes you uncomfortable or you’re not ready for it. All you have to do is say so.”
I nod, warm giddiness blanketing the self-imposed pressure surrounding our relationship.
“And when youdon’twant me to stop, I’ll obey your commands like the most eager devotee. No questions asked. Just try me.”
A snort escapes and I cover my mouth, making a grin stretch across his face. “Try you?”
“Try me. Any request at all.”
I don’t know what frivolous sprite whacks me on the head, but I blurt, “Dance for me.” I grin, unable to resist, knowing that there’s no way that Tiernan Kilkenny would dance on command.
His eyes go wide, but then he pushes himself to his feet.
Is he really going to …? I stare up at him and my jaw drops as Tiernan does a tiny little jig, jumping lightly with a hilariously straight face. I try to hold back my laughter, but it rolls through me uncontrolled. Tiernan’s lips twitch with his own failed attempt to keep from smiling.
Gods, what a view.
His gaze abruptly shifts, and he stops dancing as the room brightens. I follow his line of sight to the open door where Chiyo stands with Taig in her arms. “What in Lugda’s hells did I just walk into?” she asks as she sets Taig down.
My heart lifts at the sight of Taig walking into the room. His steps are so much steadier lately. He looks at me and his eyes light up. But just as I make it close enough for a hug, he throws his arms out with excitement, then turns and walks the other way as if heading back outside.
“Wow, nice to see you too,” I say with a chuckle.
Chiyo redirects him to me. “Give your sister a hug.”
Taig wiggles and gives a wide-mouthed laugh as Chiyo pokes him in the side. I get down onto my knees and wrap my arms around him. When I stand again, I glance at Tiernan and smile. “Thank you for the talk and the dance,” I silently sign.
He smiles and nods. “You’re very welcome, beautiful.”
Chapter 11
The scentof oiled leather and parchment neutralizes the stench of the binding glue. Wall-to-wall shelves, most of them packed to capacity with books and empty journals, provide an oddly soothing background.
Despite being a noble, my inheritance doesn’t belong to me. It was handed over as a dowry and I need my husband’s permission to use what little is left. Naturally, the rules of the land never cease to amaze me in the worst ways. Most shop-owner families hire employees from outside their households. But not mine. Mother’s greed has left us doing all the work, keeping the earnings within the family. So, I hide away some for myself. I’ve earned it after all.
To be honest though, I quite like binding the books—there’s something soothing in the repetitive, intricate routine. Being in the bindery in the cellar beneath my childhood home also makes me feel close to Father even in his absence. Just as the pocket watch I keep with me provides comfort. He loved books—from historical texts to epic adventures akin to children’s fables, he could never get enough of them.
Sunlight streams in through the window and across my workbench as I flick my finger toward the wooden book-bindingblock. Propelled by my terraforging, the bolts that keep the blocks in place unscrew, the slabs of wood loosening, allowing the pages within to expand again. I yank the freshly sewn book pages from between the slabs and unintentionally slam them onto the workbench with a loudthwack.
“Realms, Winnie!” Neris exclaims from her own workbench on the other side of the room. “Tell me how youtrulyfeel!” She glances up, her paring knife poised over a cut of calfskin, her spectacles perched on the tip of her button nose.
“Apologies,” I mumble.
“It’s alright. It’s been aGruffday for you.” She smirks at her own joke, and I groan.
