Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Despite the warmth of the day, the night is surprisingly cold, and after dinner, I’m happy when Emvor moves to the stove and starts a fire.
“You’re too fragile to endure the cold,” he tells me, and then I’m less happy about the fire.
“Humans are surprisingly hardy,” I can’t help but retort. “If we were as fragile as you say, no one would steal us. We’d die of fright the moment we got a look at your alien faces.”
I’m rewarded with a reluctant, almost rusty chuckle, and it breaks the tension between us.
“Do you play sticks?” I ask after a moment. “I found a set when I was straightening things.”
Emvor looks over at me, surprised. “You play?”
Is that pleasure I hear in his voice? I nod, trying not to sound too eager. “Leandra taught me. She loved to play. We’d spend hours most nights just tossing sticks back and forth. She could beat me every time, but I never stopped trying.”
A slow smile curves his mouth, and it seems like his whole face creases with it. My heart skips a beat. “I used to be pretty good,” he murmurs. “Haven’t played since I was a soldier, though.”
“I’ll go easy on you, then,” I tease, getting to my feet.
“Will you, now?” He sounds amused, and my heart skips another beat.
I get the box of sticks as he drags the table toward the fire and pulls his log-seat across from the only chair, which he holds out for me. I’m surprised at the small gesture and wonder if he knows it’s a chivalrous human thing to do. Probably not, but it affects me all the same. I smile brightly up at him and I’m so, so happy when he actually smiles back. It’s almost like we’re becoming friends, and I love that. I haven’t had a friend since Leandra died.
I’ve been so alone.
But here by the fire with Emvor, I don’t feel so alone, so utterly adrift in the universe. So terrified. It feels like I might have a friend and it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. It makes my spirit feel light and free, and my heart full of joy.
I can’t tell him this, though. He’s a prickly sort and won’t like it if I gush over him when he’s trying to set me up with one of his neighbors. So I just give him my best cocky smile and take the lid off of the game. “I hope you like eating crow.”
He gives me a cool look of amusement. “What the kef is ‘crow’?”
“You’re about to see,” I tease gleefully.
5
EMVOR
Nicola’s got a sharp mind. I’m a little surprised at how good a sticks player she is. It’s a game that requires strategy and quick thinking, and no two games are ever alike. I’ve met several people in the past that were terrible players, but Nicola makes me work hard to win every round, and some of the bouts last hours on end, until they’re decided at the very last moment and leave us both breathless and laughing. She wins as many bouts as she loses, and her laughter fills the quiet, cold evening.
She even makes me laugh a time or two. It feels good. Tonight, this house doesn’t feel like just a place to sleep. It feels like a home. It’s a good feeling, and I know she’s responsible for it. She’s cooked and baked like a mech on overdrive ever since she arrived, but when I chided her for it, she told me she just likes to cook and clean. She doesn’t feel obligated, she just likes staying busy. Makes the day go by faster.
I know how that is. It’s one reason I took up farming when I was discharged. I found myself with a ton of spare time and nothing to do, so I helped an old family friend out on his farm for a season and found that I liked the work. It’s hard and brutal and sometimes unforgiving, but it keeps you out of your head and bad memories. I like that, and I like the satisfaction of seeing a tall field full of grain, knowing that I grew it all myself and it’ll feed myself and my meat-stock through the long winter on Cassa. Busy hands can keep a worried mind distracted.
Of course, then it bothers me that she’s so worried she needs to constantly distract herself. I’m starting to feel oddly protective of her, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. All I can think about is when Sanjurel showed up on my doorstep, nosy and eager to see her, and the possessive anger it filled me with. The urge to protect her from him, to hide her away from his prying eyes, was overwhelming. And when I saw her shaking afterward, I had to fight back the desire to grab her and hold her against my chest.