Elspeth considered this. Then she nodded, as if she’d reached some internal conclusion.
“You broke through a wall for us,” she said. “Last night. You broke through a wall.”
Tavrin’s expression didn’t change, but I felt something shift. Surprise. A flicker of vulnerability he’d never show on his face.
“Necessary,” he said.
“It was,” Elspeth agreed. “I just wanted you to know that I noticed. And that I’m grateful.” She paused. “Also, your library is a mess, but I’ve started organizing the eastern shelves by subject. I hope that’s all right.”
I laughed. The sound surprised me, bubbling up from somewhere deep in my chest, bright and startled and real.
“It’s a family trait,” I told Tavrin. “We organize things when we’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” Elspeth said, clearly nervous. “I just think alphabetical by author is inefficient when you could cross-reference by topic and date of publication.”
Tavrin looked at my sister. Then at me. Then back at my sister.
“I like her,” he said.
“I like him too,” Elspeth told me. “Can we keep him?”
“I think we already have.”
We ate breakfast in the library, perched on cushions among the half-organized shelves. Elspeth had found bread and cheese and some kind of dried fruit, and she’d arranged it all on a tray with the same precise attention she gave to everything. Tavrin ate with his hands, tearing bread into chunks and chewing methodically, and I watched both of them and tried to make sense of the feeling expanding in my chest.
This was my family now. My fifteen-year-old sister who organized books when she was scared. My monster husband who had broken through a wall to save us. This strange, impossible collection of people who had somehow ended up together in a library on a mountain, eating breakfast like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Can I ask you something?” Elspeth asked later, her voice carefully casual.
“You can ask. I might not answer.”
“The bond.” She didn’t look at me, very focused on the book in her hands. “What does it feel like?”
I considered the question. Tried to find words for something that existed mostly beyond language.
“Like there’s a thread,” I said slowly. “Running from my chest to his. I can feel him, even when he’s not in the room. Not his thoughts, exactly. More like... his presence. His mood. Right now he’s focused. Probably measuring wood for your door.”
“That’s strange.”
“Very.”
“Does it bother you? Having someone in your head like that?”
I thought about it. Really thought, the way I hadn’t let myself before.
“No,” I said finally. “It probably should. I spent eight years guarding every thought, every feeling, making sure Uncle never knew what I was really thinking. Having someone just... know me, without asking, without me having to explain...” I shrugged. “It’s a relief, actually. I don’t have to pretend with him.”
Elspeth was quiet for a moment. Then: “I’m glad you found him.”
“I’m glad I found you.” I reached over, squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
“You came when it mattered.” She squeezed back. “That’s what counts.”
We went back to shelving. But something had shifted between us. Some wall I hadn’t known was there, crumbling into dust.
