Aria Blackwing's Arc

Chapter 11 of 24

They sat on the step until the sun cleared the trees. Derek let go of her hand only when the raven called again from inside. He rose and went in to check the birds, and Aria followed a moment later, holding the porch rail as she stood. Inside, the cabin smelled of pine and the herbs drying above the hearth. Derek knelt by the raven's box. He wet a fingertip and touched it to the bird's beak. The raven took the water and blinked up at him. Derek made a low sound in his throat, almost a laugh, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He tried to hide it and could not. Aria stopped in the doorway. She watched him lift the owl from its perch to check the splint. His hands were large and careful. He turned the wing the way she had shown him a week ago, no more roughly than she would have done. The owl let him. The raven watched from its box with a bright black eye. She had told herself, when he first agreed to stay, that she needed the help. Two hands were better than one for what she meant to build. That was true. It was not the whole truth. Standing in the doorway, she saw the rest of it plain. She did not want him to leave. Not for a night. Not for the tree line. Not ever. He looked up and caught her watching. "What?" "I was going to ask if you wanted tea," she said. "I want tea." She went to the hearth. She set the kettle on the hook and swung it over the coals. Her hands were steady. Her chest was not. "Derek." "Yes." "When we said co-operator. When I asked you to stay." She kept her eyes on the kettle. "I meant it as work. A place. A roof." He was quiet. She heard him set the owl back on the perch. "I don't mean it that way anymore," she said. "I want you to know that." She made herself turn. He was standing by the perch with his bandaged arm held close to his side. His face had gone still in the way it did when something mattered. "Say it clear," he said. "So I don't guess wrong." "I want you here because it's you. Not because I need the hands." He crossed the room. He stopped close enough that she could see the small scar under his jaw. He lifted his good hand and set it against her cheek. She leaned into it before she thought about leaning. "Good," he said. "Because I wasn't going to leave." Outside, past the porch rail, something moved in the tree line. Neither of them saw it. The kettle began to whistle, and Aria stepped back to lift it from the fire.