Page 86 of The Lost Art of Finding Where You Belong

Another kiss to the top of his head.

“You’d better open it. You’re going to want to thank him, aren’t you? Don’t want to leave him wondering if you liked it or not.”

That was a good point. So Perian untied the string that was keeping the package barely together—Chamis was definitely not an expert wrapper—and pulled off the paper.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and Brannal froze behind him.

“Look at it,” Perian breathed. “Oh, Brannal,look.”

Roughly twelve inches high, it was carved out of wood polished to a gleaming finish. It depicted a Mage Warrior with his feet planted on a wooden base, his arms outstretched, all the elements swirling up from his hands.

Chamis had almost certainly done this himself, because there was no mistaking it wasBrannal. The little wooden face looked just like his, and the outfit was accurate from the arm braces to the boots he wore.

“Your little hands,” Perian whispered. “Your lips. Your muscles under that armor. And yourface. Oh, he got it all, Brannal. It’s so beautiful.”

“He’s very talented,” Brannal said, sounding a bit stunned.

Perian picked it up carefully and cradled it in his hands, marveling at both its solidity and its delicacy.

He couldn’t believe how well Chamis had been able to capture Brannal’s expression, his confidence and body language, that feeling of his magic swelling, in this little wooden carving. He couldn’t begin to imagine having the skill to be able to do it, and it was actually a little difficult to reconcile the large man with such tiny, delicate work.

But Perian also knew he was shy and didn’t interact easily with people, and maybethiswas the way he communicated.

“I’m going to treasure it forever,” Perian said, gazing at it fondly.

Brannal gently kissed him.

“I’m glad.”

“Where can I put it?” Perian said, casting his eye around. “It needs to be prominently displayed but somewhere safe.”

Brannal let him run around the sitting room trying out different locations for the carving before he decided upon the top of the mantel—the place Brannal had suggested to begin with. But he didn’t even mention that, nor the number of books and belongings and furniture he had moved while Perian was figuring this out.

Perian moved back from the mantel, took a look at the carving and how it easily caught the eye from that location, and sighed in satisfaction.

“It looks so good.” Then he bounced over to Brannal and kissed him. “Thank you.”

Brannal just smiled and kissed him back.

Belatedly, Perian realized all their food was still sitting on the table.

“Oh,” he said with dismay, “it’s probably all cold.”

“It will still taste good,” Brannal said, holding out a chair for him. “And surely it will still give us the energy we need for everything we’re going to get up to.”

Perian could only grin at him and go sit down.

“True!”

The food was not at its very best, but it was indeed still tasty, and they definitely had priorities. No stomach rumblings allowed if they might put a stop to everything he and Brannal wanted to do with one another once dinner ended.

They didn’t linger over the meal, although Perian made happy noises about the apple tart for dessert.

“Oh, that’s so good,” he said appreciatively.

The look Brannal gave him said he enjoyed Perian’s enjoyment. So then, of course, Perian had to tease it as far as he could, licking the fork, making pleased noises, and being as suggestive as could manage. From the sardonic expression Brannal shot him, his behavior was noticed, but that didn’t mean it wasn’tworking, because he watched the man’s eyes get darker and darker until he finally sprang up from the table after Perian had made what was probably a totally ridiculous moaning sound around the fork.

“That’s it, you’re done!”

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