17. Karn

17

KARN

I guide the twins down the cobblestone street, their tiny hands clasped in mine. Nova's already covered in flour - somehow she manages that even before reaching Mrs. Blackwood's bakery.

I've known the older matron all my life. She never once sneered at Ash and Sarah, or their daughters. And while she might be a gossip, she's not said a word about Mira at my home. It's why I felt comfortable enough letting the girls stay with her for a few hours.

"Remember what we talked about?" I crouch down to their level. "Best behavior for Mrs. Blackwood."

"Yes, Uncle Karn." Nova nods solemnly while Luna bounces on her toes, distracted by the sweet scents wafting from the shop.

Mrs. Blackwood opens her door, her weathered face breaking into a warm smile. Her curved horns are decorated with tiny bells that jingle as she bends to greet the girls. "There are my favorite little helpers! I've got cookie dough waiting to be shaped."

The twins rush inside without a backward glance. I straighten up, brushing flour from my work clothes. "Thank you for watching them."

"Always a pleasure. Go on now, enjoy your evening."

The walk back to the shop takes half the time without two toddlers in tow. I just need to change after getting covered in flour — and more fucking glitter, how did that even happen? — and I'll be ready to go. I unlock the door to my shop, climb the steps up to the living area, and freeze.

Mira is standing in the living room, stealing my breath as I take her in. She's wearing a deep blue dress that flows like water around her curves. The neckline dips just low enough to make my mouth go dry. Her dark hair falls in soft curls past her shoulders, and a hint of color stains her cheeks as I stare.

"I found this in one of the boxes you left for me," she says, fingers playing with the fabric. "I'm not sure how I feel-"

"Fuck." The word comes out rough. "You look..." I cross the room in three strides, backing her against the wall. My hands find her waist, feeling the silk beneath my callused fingers.

Her green eyes dart up to mine, pupils wide. "I can change if-"

"Don't you dare." I lean down, breathing in her scent. "Though I'm having thoughts about getting you out of it myself."

Her breath hitches. "The dress might get wrinkled."

"Worth it." I brush my lips against her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath my touch.

"Karn," she admonishes with a laugh, and I sigh.

Romantic shit. Right. That's what I wanted, and she laughed — though rightfully so given how quickly this went off the rails. Well, now I'm determined to show her I can be romantic as fuck.

"Let me change." I take a step back, hating it already. "And then we can go."

I rush to my room, stripping off my work clothes and yanking on the formal outfit I'd laid out. The black silk shirt and fitted pants feel foreign after days in the forge. At least the boots are comfortable - I'm not suffering through fancy shoes for anyone. Fine, I would if Mira asked.

Back in the living roomI Mira's waiting by the stairs. The conjured light catches the silver threads woven through her dress, making her shimmer. I offer my arm, leading her outside to where the carriage waits.

"An enchanted carriage?" Her eyes widen at the ethereal vehicle, its framework traced in softly glowing purple runes. "This must have cost-"

"Worth every coin." I help her up, settling beside her. The carriage starts moving on its own, following the path I'd specified. "Though I might have traded some specialty work instead of paying outright."

She laughs, relaxing against the plush seat. "Of course you did."

The ride takes us through winding streets and up into the hills. When we reach the grove, Mira's quiet gasp tells me I chose right.

Floating lights drift between the ancient trees like stars come down to dance. A stream winds through the clearing, its water singing soft harmonies as it flows over enchanted stones. The whole place is filled with magic and gorgeous.

Almost as gorgeous as she is.

"This is beautiful." She steps down from the carriage, turning slowly to take it all in.

"Ash brought Sarah here to propose." My voice roughens at the memory. "He spent weeks setting up the enchantments, wanted everything perfect. Drove me crazy asking for help with the spellwork."

"Did she like it?"

"She cried." I smile, remembering Sarah's joy, Ash's relief. "Then she tackled him into the stream. They were soaked and laughing and so fucking happy."

Mira's hand finds mine, her fingers intertwining with my scarred ones. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

I squeeze her hand gently, watching the lights reflect in her eyes. Maybe I can do this romantic shit after all.

Grabbing the supplies I brought from the carriage. I spread the blanket near the stream, setting out dishes from the basket. The floating lights cast a soft glow over the feast I'd arranged - roasted meats, fresh bread, and those little fruit tarts Mira loves. She settles beside me, tucking her dress beneath her.

"This is too much." She picks up a tart, inhaling the sweet scent.

"You haven't eaten properly all week." I fill a plate for her. "Between the twins' magical mishaps and me keeping you busy at night-"

"Thanks!" Her face turns red as she cuts me off.

I think it's adorable that she's shy about what I do to her, though I hate to think of the reasons why she shies away from talking about sex. I'm working on changing that for her, replacing her memories and her emotions associated with them in every way I can.

"They're getting stronger." She accepts the plate, her fingers brushing mine. "Especially with their transformations."

"Ash could do that at their age." The words slip out before I can stop them. "He was very powerful, very good at manipulating things the way the twins do where I focused more on runes."

Mira shifts closer, her shoulder pressing against my arm. "Tell me about them?"

I take a long drink of wine. This wasn't the kind of conversation I imagined but I've never told Mira no and I don't intend to start now.

"Sarah was the practical one. Always had herbs drying in the kitchen, knew exactly what to do when the girls got sick. Ash..." My throat tightens. "He'd sing to them. Had a horrible voice, but they'd laugh and reach for him." A smile touches my lips.

"You sing to them too."

"Only when they can't sleep. Though I hope I don't sound like a dying animal like he did," I chuckle softly as I pick at my food. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing this all wrong. They need a mother's touch, someone gentle. I'm just..." I hold up my scarred hands.

"The gentlest man I've ever known." Mira covers my hand with hers. If only she knew what my hands have done. They've withstood forge fire, they've been covered in blood from stupid fights, they've ripped people and things to shreds from the anger I've worked hard to master. "You dropped everything to raise them. Changed your entire life, learned to braid hair, stayed up countless nights."

"Still feels like I'm failing them sometimes."

"You're not." She meets my eyes. "They're happy, loved, safe. Sarah and Ash would be proud."

"Sarah would laugh at my attempts at fancy hairstyles."

"Luna's triple braid was... creative."

I snort. "It fell apart in ten minutes. Nova wouldn't let me try again for a week."

She only giggles at that. We eat in comfortable silence, watching the lights dance above us. Mira leans against my chest, and I wrap an arm around her waist.

"They'd have loved you," I murmur into her hair. "Sarah always said I needed someone to keep me in line."

And Mira would have loved Sarah. She was definitely louder, bolder, than Mira, but I think they would have balanced each other out.

I shift back onto the blanket, pulling Mira with me. She settles against my chest, her hair tickling my chin as we gaze up at the stars peeking through the ancient branches. The floating lights dim slightly, as if sensing our desire to stargaze.

Her fingers trace idle patterns on my arm. "I used to do this as a child. Count the stars until I fell asleep."

"Outside?"

"Mm. We had this little patch of roof outside my window." Her voice grows distant, lost in memory. "I'd sneak out there when everyone was asleep."

I tighten my hold on her waist, knowing how rare these glimpses into her past are. She never talks about what happened, about the brand on her wrist that I want to kiss and curse away at the same time.

"What did you dream about? Up on that roof?"

She's quiet for so long I think she won't answer. When she does, her voice is barely a whisper. "I always wanted to paint," she whispers. "But my family was poor and we all worked until…" Her voice catches. "Until they had nothing left to sell but me."

My teeth grit together so hard that I fear they might break. I have to swallow back my rage, hating that the only people who were supposed to protect her made her pay for their problems.

"After that, I stopped dreaming," she admits. "There was only one thing I wanted. A family. Just... having people who were mine. Who I belonged to." Her fingers still on my arm. "It sounds silly now."

"It's not silly." I press my lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair to calm myself. Of course she'd want someone to care for her after everything she had been through, the way she'd been treated. "Not silly at all."

Something in my chest aches, fierce and protective. Because she is mine now - mine and the twins'. Part of our mismatched, magical, chaotic family. I want to tell her this, but the words stick in my throat.

Instead, I guide her hand to where a constellation burns bright overhead, needing to take us off this path before I demand names and end our first date in bloodshed as I hunt down everyone who has ever caused her hardship.

"See those three bright stars? The twins love that one. They call it the Cookie Jar because Nova swears it looks like where Mrs. Blackwood keeps her treats."

Her laugh vibrates against my chest. "Of course they do."

I trace another pattern of stars with her finger. "And that's the Dragon's Crown. Though Luna insists it's actually a princess hat."

"They see the world so differently." She turns her head slightly, looking up at me. "You've given them that freedom. To dream, to imagine."

My throat tightens. Because that's what family does - what she does for them too, though she might not see it yet.