Page 24

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D aisy awoke the next morning to the sound of Kesst’s shout, ringing shrill and furious through the sickroom.

“What in all the gods’ holy mountains is this?!” he shrieked. “ Filak !”

Daisy shoved up in the bed, her heartbeat thundering in her ears — and she just caught sight of Efterar sprinting past her bed, toward the rear of the sickroom. “ What is it, Sweet - Fang ?” his deep voice bellowed. “ Are you —”

But then he broke off into a harsh, exasperated groan, and a low curse. “ That damned stubborn Ka -esh,” he muttered. “ I suppose we probably asked for it, by trying to keep him out.”

“We did not ask for it!” came Kesst’s reply, now almost a wail. “ And now he’s attacked our sickroom! Our lovely, innocent sickroom, finally made properly habitable after shocking amounts of thankless labour on my part — now with a giant hideous hole knocked into it!”

A what?! Daisy’s heart was still hammering, and after another instant’s staring, she lurched up, and out of bed. Staggering toward the back of the room, following Kesst and Efterar’s voices into the latrine, to where there was…

A tunnel . A narrow, brand-new tunnel, cut roughly into the corner of the latrine’s flat polished floor, and surrounded with a chaotic mess of dust and rocks and rubble.

It most certainly hadn’t been there before, and Daisy’s mouth fell open as she stared. Filak had done that? When ? How ? Why hadn’t anyone heard it, or noticed?

But then her thoughts flicked back to the night before, to that strange scraping sound she’d heard, before Filak had touched her in the darkness. She’d thought the sounds had been a dream, but had they been — this? What the hell ?

Kesst was looking unusually dishevelled, and he whirled around to stare at Daisy , his nostrils flaring. “ So Filak got to you after all, then?” he demanded. “ Did he at least give you a choice in the matter?”

Daisy’s cheeks flooded with sudden heat, and she winced, dropped her eyes to the rubble-strewn floor. “ Er , yes,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “ But I’m sorry, I had no idea he —”

She flailed her hand at the tunnel, and shot a chagrined glance between Kesst and Efterar . And while Efterar easily waved it away, Kesst was still viciously glowering — but now toward the door, rather than at Daisy .

“Oh, we all know it’s not your fault, sweetheart,” he said flatly. “ That disastrous dungeon-dwelling ghoul has gone too far, this time. This is war !”

With that, he stalked off toward the door, his body very straight, his hands in fists. And Efterar’s expression as he watched Kesst go was almost painfully fond, and a little amused, too.

“You’re sure Filak didn’t hurt you, or pressure you?” Efterar asked, with a searching glance toward Daisy’s eyes. “ We can incapacitate him, if need be.”

Daisy rapidly shook her head, and her face again felt far too hot, too ashamed. Because yes, again, she had to admit that she had wanted Filak , last night. She’d wanted that weight of his body, that certainty of his touch, the softness of his kiss…

“It’s all right,” Efterar said, and he looked like he meant it, his gaze surprisingly mild on hers. “ Mate -bonds between orcs and humans can be very strong, and you’re looking much better today, at least. Are you feeling better, too?”

Daisy blinked — she and Filak surely didn’t have a mate-bond ? — and then made herself consider Efterar’s question. Did she feel better? She did, didn’t she? More rested, more alert, more clear-headed?

“Good,” Efterar said, as if she’d answered the question aloud. “ Though I’d still recommend getting some more rest here today, if you can. Eating would be good, too — I saw Julian brought you another basket, if that helps. And Rosa stopped by with some reading for you, too.”

Really? Daisy opened her mouth to ask how, or when — but Efterar had already strode off again. And when she followed him back toward her bed, she indeed found a stack of books and pamphlets waiting for her, and a brand-new basket, too. Overflowing with yet more food and drinks, and also — paper? And pencils? And even a small drawing board ?

Daisy’s breath caught, and she rushed to pluck out the paper, smoothing her suddenly trembling fingers against it. Julian had brought her paper , just like he’d promised, gods bless him. And she could have sobbed at the sight of it, the feel of it, the dizzying relief of it. She had paper again. She could draw again.

She almost hurled herself back onto the bed, setting herself up cross-legged with the board and paper, and a fresh pencil. And even the feel of the pencil on the paper prickled sudden heat behind her eyes, and she drew a long, heavy line across the paper, and then another. Just sinking into it, feeling it curl up and settle, warm and whispering and alive.

She drew aimlessly at first, just lines and shades and curves, getting a feel for the pencil, for the tooth of the paper. But then her strokes slipped into the arch of the sickroom’s ceiling, the lines of the dividers, the shape of the empty bed opposite hers. The shadow of Efterar’s bulky form passing by, the texture of the fur on her bed. The way the firelight flickered and danced on the ceiling, the light of its warmth, the cozy shadows it cast across the stone floor…

She’d absently begun to eat as she drew, too, picking at the basket with one hand while drawing with the other. But she only half-tasted the admittedly delicious food, because her full focus was just on this. On being finally, blessedly free of all the confusion and regret, and lost in the stream, the magic, the sweet wheeling wonder…

It was only the sudden sound of yet another commotion outside the door that dragged her awareness back again, jerking her upright in the bed. Because yes, that was again Filak’s voice, deep and harsh and demanding — and Kesst’s voice, sharper and colder. Both of them again speaking in that foreign tangled language, their voices rising almost to shouts.

Without thinking, Daisy had already set down her pencil, about to slip out of bed — when the voices abruptly halted, and Kesst stalked back into view. He was still looking frazzled, his lip contemptuously curled, his hair even more unkempt than before. But in his hand, he was holding — flowers?

“For you,” he snapped at Daisy , as he thrust the flowers toward her. “ From your most devoted deranged admirer.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, just spun around and stalked off again, while Daisy stared blankly after him, and then down at the flowers now clutched in her hand.

And they were — delightful. Common flowers, yes, and some unconventional choices for a bouquet — but still beautiful, all clustered together like this, in a mass of riotous, chaotic colour. Lupins , and daylilies, and marigolds, and even a few dandelions. And there, in the middle — Daisy’s breath stilled — were a handful of bright, cheerful daisies.

Daisy mín. Sólin mín.

Daisy swallowed down the sudden constriction in her throat, and then groped for the empty bottle from the basket — gods, she barely remembered drinking the milk it had held — and placed the flowers’ stems into it. And then she dragged over the nearby bench, set the makeshift vase onto it, and flipped to a fresh sheet of paper.

And this — this was more shimmering wonder, more sweet shaky relief. Bringing the flowers’ wild beauty to life on the page, closer and brighter with every stroke, every shade. Ensuring they would never die, never be forgotten, her own magic whipping and whirling around her, making life, making immortality…

And if there was another commotion at the door, she didn’t hear it this time. Because it was only this, only the art, only the magic…

And only… him. Filak .

She couldn’t have said how long he’d been there, or how he’d gotten there — but somehow, as she drew in the daisies’ tiny central spikes, she’d begun feeling that distinct weight of his eyes, and their telltale prickling touch on her skin. Watching her, silent and intent. Waiting .

She made herself finish the daisies, but her previously easy strokes had become careful and uncertain, her hand clammy and stiff. And she braced herself as she finally raised her eyes, and found Filak’s face.

He was standing near the end of her bed, and his thin body was very still, his eyes dark staring hollows in his harsh face. And as Daisy blinked back up toward him, it was almost impossible to believe she’d allowed him into her bed last night, let him touch her, kiss her, ravish her in the dark…

Daisy’s face heated, and she dropped her eyes down toward the flowers on the bench. “ Um , thank you for these,” she said, hoarse, as she reached out her suddenly shaky hand to brush at a marigold — and then she caught sight of that yellow ring, still glittering far too bright on her finger.

But curse it, Filak was looking at the ring too, and Daisy hurriedly dropped her hand, and clutched tightly at her pencil. Gods , what was she thinking? Even if she’d decided to see and learn him for herself, she still shouldn’t be encouraging him, right? Shouldn’t just let him believe it was already settled between them?

But Filak didn’t actually look as though he thought it was settled, in this moment — and if anything, he looked… wary. Cautious . And his steps toward Daisy were slow, careful, quiet, as if he didn’t want to make any sudden movements, didn’t want to alarm or frighten her.

“ Tóknast tau tér ?” his low voice finally asked, as he carefully reached out a long black claw, and brushed it at the marigold, too. “ Gott ?”

Gott meant good , Daisy was almost sure of it — he was asking if she liked the flowers, right? So she attempted a nod, and took a slow, shaky breath. “ Gott ,” she replied, quiet. “ I love plants. Especially messy colourful ones like this. Not that” — she huffed a sound almost like a laugh — “anyone would ever put them in real books, though.”

There was no chance Filak had understood any of that, but perhaps he’d followed the ruefulness in her voice, or even the regret. And he was watching her with that careful intensity again, his head cocking sideways — and then his dark eyes slid down, toward the drawing board on Daisy’s lap.

She’d had it on her upraised knees, angled toward her, meaning that Filak likely couldn’t see what she’d been drawing. But he just kept standing there staring, again almost waiting, and finally Daisy took another deep breath, and turned the drawing toward him. Feeling her heartbeat kick up in her chest, because last time he’d seen her art, he’d raged at her, and kidnapped her, and accused her of planning a mass murder…

But this time, he just… looked. Looked , and looked, while his brow slowly furrowed, and something convulsed in his throat. And when he reached out his clawed hand toward the drawing, Daisy let him take it, watched with her heart still loudly thumping as he kept staring down toward it, and then sharply glanced over at the flowers. And then he looked back at the paper in his hand, and the flowers, and then — he stiffened — his eyes caught on the other drawing she’d done. The one of the sickroom, now lying visible and slightly skewed on her drawing board.

“ Daisy ,” he said quietly, almost reproachfully, as he sank down to sit on the bench beside the bed, and leaned over to trace his sharp claw along the line of the ceiling she’d drawn. “ átt tú tetta ?”

It was the same thing he’d said to her back at the apartment, just before he’d begun raging at her — asking her if the art was hers, right? — and Daisy shrank back in the bed, and darted an uneasy glance toward the door. “ Um ,” she said, “yes. Ach . It’s mine.”

But this time, instead of yelling or raging, Filak kept blinking down at the drawing in her lap, gently tracing his claw against the lines of it. As if he was caught in it, entranced by it, and Daisy felt her heartbeat slightly slowing as she watched, still clutching the pencil tight in her fingers.

“I didn’t finish Efterar , though,” she said, a little thickly, as she impulsively straightened the paper on the board again, and began sketching in his braid, his scarred, harsh profile, the elegant arches of his pointed ears. “ He has a very interesting face, don’t you think?”

She could feel the intensity of Filak’s watching eyes as she drew, her hand shifting quickly across the paper. And when she’d finished — leaving a distinct little Efterar walking past on the page — and then risked a glance back at Filak , he was indeed still staring, his expression contorting into something that might have been awe, or disbelief, or even — jealousy?

At that moment, Efterar himself strode by, not even sparing them a glance. But Filak’s sudden glare toward him looked deeply malevolent, his lip curling, and he even growled, low and menacing in his throat. Almost as if he really was — jealous. Jealous of Efterar , just because Daisy had drawn him.

Daisy’s mouth twitched into a quizzical smile, and she shook her head, opened her mouth — but just then, Kesst stalked by after Efterar . And Filak’s malevolent glare instantly flipped into something cold and contemptuous as Kesst skidded to a halt at the end of the bed, and gaped back toward him with wide, goggling eyes.

“What — the — fuck ,” Kesst snarled, dragging both his hands through his rumpled hair. “ You — enraging — irreclaimable — incorrigible — barnacle . How the hell did you get in here again?!”

Filak only gazed back, his sharp teeth now slightly bared, because of course he wouldn’t have understood anything Kesst had said, would he? And perhaps Kesst had now realized that, because he wildly flailed his hand, and began speaking in more sharp, furious words that Daisy couldn’t understand.

But Filak clearly did, because after staring at Kesst for another long moment, he smoothly rose to his feet, and then bent down, and pressed his lips to Daisy’s forehead. “ I am sorry, sólin mín ,” he murmured. “ ég kem fljótlega aftur .”

Daisy couldn’t hide her brief, convulsive quiver, as Kesst made a loud, enraged sound from the end of the bed. “ No , you will not return soon!” he spat. “ Nei , Filak ! Out !”

But Filak didn’t even look at him, and instead gave an irritated roll of his eyes toward Daisy before turning and stalking away. While Kesst reeled off after him, still sputtering, and yanking at his rumpled hair.

But Daisy’s forehead was still tingling from Filak’s kiss, and her traitorous mouth quirked up as she smoothed out her sketch of the sickroom on the board, and began drawing again. This time adding in an enraged Kesst , his handsome face angry and appalled, his arms flailing, his long hair flying out in a chaotic tangle around his head.

“Oh, good gods ,” came a shocked, hushed voice, some time later. “ That isn’t… me . Is it?”

Daisy nearly leapt out of the bed, and found herself blinking up at none other than Kesst himself. Who was standing stock-still beside her, and staring down at her drawing with a thoroughly horrified look on his face.

“ Unthinkable ,” he breathed, as he shuddered all over, and snapped his hands up to gingerly stroke at his messy hair. “ What has that Ka -esh menace done to me?! I need an extremely extensive bath. And grooming! Now !”

With that, he dashed off toward the door, leaving Daisy gazing guiltily after him, and also fighting back the sudden, almost overpowering urge to laugh. And after eating another tasty snack from Filak’s basket — while reading one of the highly informative pamphlets Rosa had left her — she pulled over a fresh sheet of paper, and began drawing again.

It was another sketch of Kesst , but this time she chose a flattering three-quarter angle, and put considerable time into his smile, and his striking bone structure, and his expressive dark eyes. And his hair would look lovely in the wind like this, and his lean body had a fair bit of muscle definition, and…

“Daisy!” cut in a sharp, angry voice, and when Daisy flinched to look, it was Filak again. Standing tall and pale over her, glaring down at her, and holding…

Her sketchbook ?!

Daisy’s initial alarm collapsed into confused disbelief — where the hell had Filak gotten her sketchbook? Had he somehow gone back to Dusbury , and stolen it from Lew’s apartment, or —

Or — wait. Daisy had last had that sketchbook when she’d been drawing that first night in the cave, right? When the tunnel had collapsed? And she’d dropped it, and thought it was lost, forever.

But clearly Filak had taken it. Kept it. And now… now he’d brought it back.

Something lurched in Daisy’s belly, and she took the sketchbook from Filak with careful, shaky hands, and clutched it tight to her chest. It hadn’t been lost forever after all, oh gods — and the relief of it felt like a light in the darkness, like a warm crackling fire, like more shimmering sparkling magic. Hers .

“Thank you,” she whispered to Filak , before she could stop it — and it was stupid, ridiculous, because he’d been the entire damned reason she’d lost the sketchbook in the first place. But the way he was watching her, his eyes flickering, his hand again drawing that cross over his heart. Saying , silently, I am sorry.

Daisy swallowed, and cradled her sketchbook even closer, while Filak shot a narrow, disapproving glare down toward her sketch of Kesst . And with a swift swipe of his hand, he plucked it entirely away, and set it face-down on the small table beside the bed.

“ Nóg af Kesst ,” he said, still with obvious disapproval in his voice. “ Tú vereur ae borea .”

With that, he pulled over the mostly-full basket of food, and plunked it onto Daisy’s lap. “ Boreaeu ,” he said firmly, and that had to mean eat , right? He wanted her to eat more?

And despite the fact that Daisy had already eaten, she still felt surprisingly hungry, so she picked up a slice of buttered bread, and took a bite. While Filak settled his long body down on the bench again, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, and staring at her. Clearly intending to sit there and watch her eat, without having any food whatsoever himself.

“You’ll have some too, won’t you?” Daisy asked him, as she plucked up a piece of dried meat, and held it out toward him. “ It was lovely of you to send it, but it’s still way too much for one person, and you —”

But she broke off there, too late, darting a wincing glance down toward Filak’s too-visible ribs. Because damn it, what had Julian said about Filak and eating? Fasting is an important part of their prayers, most of all when an orc is seeking the gods’ help or guidance.

And whatever Filak’s reasons were for fasting like this, Daisy had no desire whatsoever to disrespect his faith, or his prayers. But even as she made to lower her hand, he sighed, snatched the dried meat from her fingers, and took a furtive little nibble.

And oh, that look on his face. The ravenous hunger, the pleasure, the relief. Flaring bright and vivid across his eyes, softening his harsh features as he swallowed…

But just as quickly, his expression darkened again. Twisting into something unmistakably like guilt as he squeezed his eyes shut, and clenched his jaw tight.

It hitched oddly in Daisy’s chest, and without at all meaning to, she slipped a hand out toward him, and gripped at his bony knee over his trousers. “ Everyone needs to eat sometimes, Filak ,” she said, softer than she meant. “ Whatever you’re praying for, I can’t imagine your gods would begrudge you even a tiny bit of food now and then, would they?”

Filak’s eyes snapped open again, first staring at Daisy’s hand on his knee, and then at her face. And too late, she yanked her hand away, because this was sheer stupidity again, wasn’t it? She was only supposed to be watching him, not involving herself in his personal affairs, right?

But Filak was still staring at her, with something she couldn’t read flickering in his eyes. And then, holding his gaze on hers, he took another small, tentative bite of meat, while more of that palpable pleasure — or even relief — passed across his face.

It again lurched in Daisy’s chest, and she couldn’t help her small smile toward him. “ Gott ,” she said, again without at all meaning to. “ It’s good, isn’t it?”

Filak’s eyes flickered again, betraying more of that relief, or maybe even gratefulness — but then they darkened again as his throat convulsed with his swallow. Suggesting that eating truly wasn’t easy for him, even if he wanted to do it. And after another instant’s watching him, Daisy impulsively reached toward the table beside the bed, and plucked up one of Rosa’s books.

“Rosa brought these for me today,” she told him. “ And this one” — she flipped it open, showed him the first page — “is called The Official Orc Mountain Guide to Introductory Aelakesh . That’s your language, right? Aelakesh ?”

She pointed toward the first entry on the page, which included the word Aelakesh in common-tongue, followed by what was clearly the orcs’ flowing, unfamiliar script. And below it, there was even a helpful phonetic guide, followed by a definition. The spoken and written language of all five orc clans, since their arrival on this continent roughly two millennia ago.

Filak’s gaze had snapped down to the book, his mouth still frowning — but then the comprehension flashed across his eyes. “ Ach ,” he said, jabbing his claw toward the page. “ Aelakesh .”

His pronunciation was far different than Daisy’s had been, and she took a breath, and attempted to mimic it. “ Aelakesh ,” she said. “ Aelakesh .”

Filak’s eyes flickered again, this time with obvious approval, and he slid his claw down to the next entry on the page. “ Orkafjall , ” he said. “ Tetta fjall .”

He’d aimlessly waved his hand at the room around them, and even if Daisy hadn’t just read the definition on the page, his meaning was all too clear. “ Orkafjall ,” she repeated, again attempting to mimic his pronunciation. “ Orc Mountain .”

Filak’s mouth slightly curved up, and his next nibble of meat was almost easy, almost unconscious. “ Orc Mountain ,” he repeated, in flat-sounding common-tongue, once he’d swallowed. “ Orc Mountain .”

Daisy couldn’t resist her reflexive grin toward him, and then took a bite of her own meat, and moved to the next entry down the page. It was ach , for yes, and apparently they sometimes used já , too — and then nei . Which Daisy already knew all too well, and easily pronounced, while Filak half-grinned toward her, and took another bite of meat.

And then they moved to the next entry, and the next, and the next. Until they’d somehow gone through half a dozen pages together, talking and smiling and learning together — and still eating together, too. And while Filak had only taken small, tentative bites, at Daisy’s urging he’d also tried the bread, and the berries. All of it flaring more hunger and relief and guilt across his eyes, and when Daisy nudged the pastry toward him, he actually groaned aloud as he ate, his eyes fluttering closed. Enough that Daisy couldn’t hide her chuckle, and when he caught her eye again, he twitched a small, rueful smile, too.

It made for a surprisingly enjoyable morning, easy and companionable — and it was truly helpful, too. It turned out that gott did mean good , after all, and biddu — which Filak had said so often during their first night in the cave — meant wait . And róleg meant peace , and borea meant eat , and typpi meant — cock .

“ Typpi ,” Filak told her, a wicked grin now playing on his mouth, as his clawed hand blatantly palmed at his trousers — which, curse him, looked impressively swollen in front. “ Typpi , sólin mín .”

Daisy should not have stared like that, or betrayed that hard swallow in her throat, because Filak’s grin broadened, and he leaned closer toward her, gazing at her through hungry, half-lidded eyes. “ Ach , sólin mín ?” he murmured. “ Viltu typpie ?”

Daisy’s breath caught, her cheeks damnably heating — but at that highly inopportune moment, Kesst strode around the divider. He looked damp and refreshed, his long hair neatly hanging down his back — but upon catching sight of Filak , he flailed to a halt, as more shocked fury flashed across his eyes.

“What the hell, Filak !” he shouted. “ The guards swore you hadn’t come through, and I put some on the tunnel, too — but wait, did you dig out somewhere else ? Out ! Out ! ”

Filak’s glare toward Kesst was pure, withering scorn, but he huffed a sharp exhale, and rose to his feet. Not bothering to hide the very obvious bulge in his straining trousers, and he took his time gripping Daisy’s chin in his hand, and tilting her face up toward him. So he could leisurely bend down and kiss her on the mouth, oh gods, his lips soft and hungry, his tongue curling against hers…

“OUT!” came Kesst’s distant holler, to which Filak growled softly against Daisy’s lips, and drew away. Though he kept his hand on her cheek, his hooded eyes steady on hers.

“ Vertu s?ll ,” he murmured. “ Sólin mín .”

Thanks to their discussion, Daisy now knew that vertu s?ll meant goodbye , and she couldn’t hide her smile as she nodded back. “ Vertu s?ll , Filak .”

The warmth flickered across his eyes, curved up his mouth — and it wasn’t until another enraged sound emanated from Kesst that Filak rolled his eyes, and stalked out. And for a brief, bizarre instant, Daisy fought down the overpowering urge to leap up and follow him, to put her hands to his straight stiff back, to trace those black marks on his skin…

But she somehow held herself still, watching him go. And once Kesst had stormed off again, she reached for her sketchbook, and reverently stroked her hand across its familiar hard cover. Filak had eaten with her, spoken with her, spent time with her — and he’d even brought back her sketchbook. Something to ground her in all this mess, something that was only hers. Hers .

She took far too long flipping through the pages, mostly wincing at her various previous mistakes, but also lingering on the better drawings, and the memories behind them. When she’d climbed to the top of that dangerous ridge for the view. When she’d found a cave full of pink stalagmites. When she’d been stuck in a tedious university meeting with Lew , and had instead drawn the little sparrows hopping around outside the window.

And the last page, of course, was that cave. Filak’s cave. With the beautiful arched ceiling, the checkered tile floor. The cave that had felt entirely unlike a cave at all, but more… purposeful. Intentional . Powerful .

Daisy studied the drawing for a long, silent moment, tracing a careful finger against the line of the cave’s ceiling. What had that cave been? What had it meant? And why had Filak trapped her inside it? He had trapped her in there on purpose, right? With his… magic?

It all twisted and tangled with the rest, so many questions, so many things Daisy didn’t know. So many things she wanted to learn, wanted to see for herself, to draw for herself. To keep making sense of all this mess, this mountain, this orc. To see them through fresh eyes on a blank new page…

And before she’d quite followed it, she snapped the sketchbook shut, and shoved out of the bed. Smoothing out the fur, slipping a pencil into her pocket, and clutching the sketchbook close. Not thinking, just drawing in a breath, heading for the door…

“Wait, are you leaving ?” cut in a voice, Kesst’s voice — and when Daisy turned toward him, he still looked frazzled and put-upon, his tired eyes glinting suspiciously on hers. “ Did Eft actually release you?”

Daisy twitched, and glanced toward where Efterar was striding over, too. “ It’s all right,” he told her, as he gave a brief caress to Kesst’s stiff shoulder. “ I’m sure you’ll be fine now, Daisy .”

But he looked unmistakably relieved, too — no wonder, given all the chaos Daisy’s presence had brought them — and suddenly she felt almost dizzy with the sheer, shuddering gratefulness. They’d been so kind to her, so generous, and she had no way of paying them back, except…

“It was so lovely of you both to have me here,” she told them, as she began fumbling through her sketchbook, and the papers she’d haphazardly stuffed inside it. “ Again I’m sorry for the inconvenience, and — here. It’s not much, but — thank you.”

She’d thrust out her drawing of Kesst , which she hadn’t quite finished — but she could admit that it had captured him well, and was a very flattering likeness, too. And she was gratified by the way Kesst’s eyes snapped wide at the sight of it, while Efterar blinked, and then gave a low, appreciative whistle.

“Look at that, Sweet - Fang ,” he murmured, as he reached to take the drawing from Daisy’s hand, and held it up before them. “ It’s you. Just as beautiful as always.”

Kesst kept staring at it with wide, disbelieving eyes, his mouth fallen open. And then he slightly shook himself, and shot Daisy a searching, accusing look. “ You … drew that?” he demanded. “ And we can… keep it?”

Daisy twitched an uncertain smile, but nodded. “ Yes , of course,” she replied. “ I’d be happy to do another one too, if you like. Perhaps a portrait of the two of you together?”

Kesst’s mouth snapped shut, and he shot a glance toward Efterar that looked almost pleading. And at Efterar’s wry, indulgent half-smile back, Kesst fervently nodded, his eyes alight on Daisy’s . “ Yes , please,” he breathed. “ Good gods, it might almost be worth all this horrifying desecration of our precious sickroom.”

Daisy didn’t know whether to laugh, or perhaps to apologize again — but beside Kesst , Efterar was fondly grinning, and pressing a kiss to his hair. And if nothing else, Kesst looked far more relaxed than before, his outrage entirely vanished, his gaze lingering on Daisy’s drawing with something not unlike reverence.

“Where are you going, then?” Kesst asked, sparing only a brief glance toward her. “ Meeting up with Filak again, I presume?”

Even the thought of it tugged in Daisy’s belly, but she squared her shoulders, and drew in a breath. Where was she going? What was she doing? Not meeting up with Filak again, no, but…

“I’m going to draw,” she said, and she could have laughed with the brightness of it, the relief. “ And I’m going to learn.”