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“You haven’t stopped suggesting he must be,” she replied immediately. “I miss my home. I miss the women who raised me. That doesn’t mean I’m miserable here. It doesn’t give you permission to use me as an excuse to insult him.”

The quiet lasted long enough for a log to settle in the fire. I could have offered Phaedrus a change of subject. Instead, I remained silent beside Thalia and let him find his own way to break the tension.

Kallisto eventually asked whether anyone wanted more stew. One of the visitors accepted with almost indecent haste, then asked where his sister should send people who needed treatment. Thalia answered him, still a little breathless with anger. I listened more closely to her voice than to the directions.

We spent the rest of dinner talking about the neighboring settlements. Phaedrus contributed little, though he thanked Kallisto graciously before leaving. He spoke warmly to Thalia too, as though she hadn’t just rebuked him at my table. I hoped it rankled all the way home. When he promised to inform the clans of our progress, I told him we’d be glad to receive their people.

At last, Bion took them to the gate. I remained beside Thalia in the hall, listening to their departing hooves. Behind us, Damon began gathering bowls. The scrape of crockery was far more welcome than anything Phaedrus had said all evening.

“I hope his next visit is a little shorter,” Thalia muttered. “I was beginning to think he’d ask whether you’d counted my blankets.”

“He might yet send someone to check.” I turned toward her, smiling at the indignation she’d made no effort to conceal. “You’ve probably delayed him by a few days.”

“I should have let you answer him. You looked as though you were about to.”

There was no apology in her voice, only a curiosity that made me wish I’d delivered at least one of the retorts I’d considered. She might have enjoyed it.

“I had several answers in mind. None would have improved the visit.”

She laughed and moved closer, her shoulder pressing against mine. I wished the others would leave us for a while. I’d wanted the visitors gone so we could have our evening back. Now even the sound of Damon stacking bowls felt like an interruption.

“Thank you,” I said. “For what you told him.”

“I meant it, Eryx.” Her fingers closed around my sleeve. “I like working with you. I like our dinners. I’m not going to pretend otherwise because he dislikes you.”

Her magic pressed close to my senses, as familiar now as her voice. I lifted my hand and stopped just short of hers. Only a scrap of cloth lay between her fingers and my skin. I wanted it gone. I wanted to turn her toward me, hear her breath catch when she understood I meant to kiss her. For weeks, I’d been finding reasons to stay in the same room. Now she was telling me she liked having me there.

“Come and sit by the fire,” she said. “We might still have a pleasant evening.”

I almost followed her. She’d already started to turn, her fingers lingering on my sleeve as though she expected me to come. An empty chair sat beside hers. I knew exactly where it was, how close I could sit without our knees touching. I was tired of leaving that careful space between us.

I could ask her to stay with me after the others went to bed. She might agree. The thought brought such a rush of pleasure that I nearly spoke, already imagining her beside me in the quiet house. I wanted to hear about more than her patients. I wanted to know what she missed, what made her laugh, what she lay awake thinking about when I left her at her door.

I’d told her I wouldn’t be her husband. Yet here I was, wanting every part of her life she might be willing to give me. I could explain that I’d changed my mind. She might even be glad. I was beginning to hope she would be.

Once before, I’d been certain a woman would be glad of what I offered her. Ianthe had argued, and I’d answered every objection. I remembered the patience in my own voice. Gods, I’d been pleased with myself for it. She’d been fighting to make me listen, and I’d been waiting for her to understand.

“Eryx?” Thalia’s fingers loosened. “Is something wrong?”

I wanted to tell her. The words were right there, but I couldn’t bear the thought of her hand falling away when she heard them. She’d just defended me. I wanted to keep the warmth in her voice a little longer, even if I had to remember it from outside the room.

“I need to go out for a while,” I said. “Don’t wait for me.”

Her hand left my sleeve. I almost caught it, then closed my fingers against my palm. She’d done nothing to deserve another evening wondering why I wouldn’t stay with her. I knew that perfectly well, and still I let her step away.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll let you be.”

I heard her cross toward the fire, then Kallisto asked whether she’d like something warm to drink. I could still follow her. The chairs were only a few paces away, and I stood there long enough for Damon to begin clearing the last of the dishes.

I didn’t go after Thalia. Instead, I turned away from my bride and left.

7

The Weight of His Hand

Thalia

By the time Kallisto wished me good night, I’d let the drink she’d made me go cold. Damon had already gone upstairs. I’d expected Eryx to return before the others went to bed, but his chair beside the hall fire remained empty.