11. Soren

Chapter eleven

Soren

" S he just fell into his wagon?" My sister looks at me, awestruck. "This is crazy. I can't wait to tell Mom."

I roll my eyes at her, but it has no severity. We all like a good bit of gossip.

She smiles up at me, sipping her coffee. Her earthen eyes that match mine are now boring holes into my skin. "So, what do you think about her?"

What do I think of her? I don't know her. I know she has a fierceness that peaks a drive in me, a need, a craving—a pull to fight, to conquer, to claim—a drive I never knew existed. I also know she's terrified, despite her attempts to hide it. But I can't say any of that to Em. I would sound like a madman.

"She's fine. Scared, I think. I don't really know much else."I say, changing the direction of the conversation by presenting a plate of turnovers to Em.

A creak from the floorboards upstairs whips our heads up to follow the sound. Em's cunning eyes narrow in on Mari as she descends the steps. She eyes her in an assessing manner; I'm not entirely sure it isn't lascivious. Em has been known to partake in both males and females. But the way she is eyeing Mariana has me stiffening my back and lowering my brows at her.

"This is so exciting." She doesn't need to tell me that. It's written all over her expression. And now I'm afraid she's going to alarm Mariana.

Em can be overwhelming when she gets excited about something. And Em is definitely enthusiastic about Mariana. Maybe a little too much.

"Just be calm, please." The pleading in my gaze isn't lost on her, and she nods in agreement.

Then her eyes shift, going glassy. It should surprise me, but it doesn't. Em sometimes goes places or hears things others don't. She's what the elders call "The Gifted", not entirely uncommon in the non-magical. Some believe the gifted were conduits for the gods. If we were back in the dark times Em would be locked in a tower, her only use being a spiritual messenger for some wealthy lord or wizard.

"Are you back?" I ask when her eyes clear.

"Yeah, sorry. That came out of nowhere." She adjusts her clothes slightly, straightening. "I'll be on my best behavior, but you must admit, she is…interesting- looking."

Interesting? The way Em says the word has me questioning its meaning. She says "interesting" as if Mariana were a piece of chocolate cake ready to devour. Why is my sister such a scoundrel?

Each step sends a pang of nervousness through my body. Why am I nervous? I shove a turnover into my mouth before my brain even registers I have the pastry. Shit, now I'm going to be covered in crumbs. I wipe my face and hands, not at all discreetly. You are genuinely a bumbling ogre, Soren. Get your shit together.

The noises reach the landing, and Mariana steps off the banister. I take in a big breath.

I'm just nervous about how she will receive Em, that's all. I think back to our strange interaction last night. How scared she looked. I hope that some of her fury comes back today. It's easier to battle demons when you're facing them head-on. Mad or not. It's better than fear.

She rounds and eyes us, tousled from sleep and absolutely drowning in my clothes. A primal part of me revels in the image, but I don't let it show on my face.

My sister stands almost immediately, walking over with a burlap sack and meeting her halfway.

"Hi, I'm Emilia, but you can call me Em." She keeps her voice bright, then holds the sack out to Mariana. "Soren said you might need some clothes. They're still going to be a bit big, but…" She trails off, hoping Mariana gets the point.

Mariana looks over Em's shoulder at me. What does she need? Should I intervene? Her eyes scan me, then shift back to Em and then me again. I realize she is comparing our features. I didn't introduce Emelia properly, so she makes her own determinations.

Clever little thing.

Em holds the bag out to Mariana, and she takes it, plastering an uncomfortable smile on her face.

"Come on," Em beckons, tugging slightly on Mariana's arm. "Soren's making breakfast, and coffee is ready."

Her eyes perk at the mention of breakfast. I forgot she didn't eat last night. The sad, crushed muffins I tossed to the chickens this morning flash in my memory.

I slide the plate of turnovers in her direction, along with the coffee. "Sorry, I already added cream and honey to it. I hope that's okay."

Mariana looks up at me from the stool she's now perched on, a bit of that fire blazing in her eyes once more. "I would drink a mud puddle if it tasted like coffee."

She reaches for the cup and the pastry. I didn't realize just how ravenous she was. She's alternating between the treat and the drink, letting the crumbs spill on the stone surface.

I glance at Em, and she smirks at me, no doubt drawing conclusions about my skills as a host. She probably thinks I'm starving Mariana. And that she would be better suited in her loft above my parents' barn. No fucking way.

I throw some bacon in my skillet, and the sizzle knocks Mariana out of whatever food-induced trance she is in. She snaps her head up at the noise, realizing she disappeared briefly. A dark maroon stains her cheeks, and she wipes the oversized sleeve over her face, knocking off the excess crumbs.

"Is there any way to tell if this storm will ease up?" She looks out the window at the gray morning as if she were making the prediction herself.

"The water sprites say a week," I tell her and loose a long sigh. "But they're not always accurate. We should have a better idea in a day or two after the Farmland elders meet. They have magic that manifests and grows stronger when they're in each other's presence. Their magic will truly let us know what is expected."

She holds her questions back with a press of her full lips in a tight line. Her eyes reflect the mental calculations that must be going on. I wish I could mind-speak like the beings of magic can, look at what's happening in her head. It's an attribute I've never once envied—until now.

"Look…" She glances at both my sister and me. "I'm thankful for the hospitality and all. But if I'm going to be stuck here for a week, I need to do something. I don't do well with idle time."

"Sure—" Em eeks out, surprised by the statement. "What can you do?"

It's not a question meant to mock or presume a lack of a skill set. It's more of an appraisal where we might use her best on our vast lands.

"Well." She hesitates, looking unsure. Defeated even. "Just give me a fucking job, and I'll do it," she spits. Em looks taken aback. But this pleases me more than I expected.

She's back.