Page 25 of Sweetling
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The day, however, brought no celestial inspiration—nor even a peek of Molly. He found himself perpetually drifting to the residential wing of the house, where the finished bedchambers were, multiple times a day. Only to find that her door was still shut and locked. None of the fine particles he left on the floor had been disturbed, proving no one had emerged.
She hadn’t even opened the door to inspect the corridor.
Finally, in the late afternoon, Allarion couldn’t resist. He rapped his knuckles against the oak paneling, wishing for even a morsel of her attention.
“Molly? Are you all right?” he called after his polite knock.
After a long, tense pause—
“I’mfine,” she called back, even if…Allarion didn’t think she sounded so. He vaguely remembered the half-orc Orek warning the other halflings and manticores gathered in the growing otherly village thatfinewas the most dangerous thing a human woman could say. A multifaceted word, it meant many things, none of which were obvious to an unsuspecting male.
Allarion prided himself on being a fairly fluent interpreter of the female language—he had older sisters, past lovers, many sisters-in-arms, and had watched Ravenna grow from girl to youth to woman. Still, as he stood outside Molly’s locked door, he couldn’t help feeling a sensation not unlike drowning.
At the very least, he wished she’d emerge long enough to let him show her the kitchen he’d stocked full in preparation. He hadn’t known her tastes, so he’d purchased a bit of everything, allowing the kind merchants in the nearby market town to guide him.
The idea of preparing her a meal—even though he never had before—piqued his hope.
He tried once more. “Would you like me to—?”
“I want you to go away!”
Allarion blinked at the closed door. “Are you well?”
A snort, dripping with derision, echoed from the other side. “I’mfine.”
I don’t think she’s fine,Bellarand offered unhelpfully.
Allarion scowled over his shoulder at the unicorn.Beasts of burden belong outside.
Bellarand blew a puff of hot breath in his face.Good thing I’m not burdened by much.
Turning back to the door, Allarion laid his hand on its face. A tendril of his magic worked under the door—he didn’t mean to intrude, just to ensure she was as fine as she claimed. He couldn’tseewith his magic extended, only really sense. The house creaked in question, as if it too waited to learn how their new mistress fared.
Easy, easy,he told it.We must wait for her to become comfortable.
The shudders rattled, as if the house sighed with impatience.
Through the tendril, Allarion sensed she lay in the bed, a lump under the mountain of blankets he’d left there. It gave him some encouragement—at least she hadn’t tried to make a rope of bedding to climb out the bay windows. He’d have sensed her, of course, and the house would have told him, but still. That wouldn’t have been an auspicious start to their courtship.
When nothing further came from her room, Allarion departed, Bellarand clopping behind him.
She has a strong will,Bellarand noted,that’s desirable in a female.
Allarion agreed—a strong-willed matriarch was exactly what a house needed to succeed. He just had to be patient. It wasn’t for males to rush females—they were the ones who decided when a courtship was to happen. He knew in the human kingdoms that things might be different, but he intended to treat his humanazaiwith just as much respect and reverence as he would a fae woman.
Their union would be all the sweeter for his waiting, he was sure.
That night and the following morning brought no further interaction with his newazai,but Allarion didn’t despair. It was early days yet, and while he already missed her smiles and scent, he could be patient. No matter how his fangs ached and lips wished to taste her again. Hecouldbe patient.
He spent his day on the roof, repairing slate shingles. The residential wing’s roof had taken him many days to repair and it had been in better condition than the south wing. He’d kept steady business with the market town an hour’s ride from the estate, needing a constant supply of timber, shingles, tiles, nails, and fabrics.
It was from his vantage point on the roof that he watched a cart bounce up the drive. The perimeter ward had alerted him to the presence of coming guests, and he let them pass without issue—even if annoyance prickled under his skin at their uninvited presence.
Once the two halflings came to a stop at the front of the house, Allarion leapt down from the roof to greet them. The horse pulling their cart startled and Orek twitched, slapping his hand over his heart.
“Good day to you,” Allarion said, nodding at the two half-orcs.
