Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 37: I Trusted You

"What do you think?" Isolde asked.

She held up a piece of parchment. Julian looked up; the firelight cast shadows across his face, hollowing out his cheekbones. Damp hair fell into his eyes. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, a towel slung around his neck. He leaned forward, and the muscles in his stomach flexed.

"Is it meant to be a snowman?" Julian asked.

Isolde frowned. "It's Lestia."

"I see," Julian said slowly. "And those things behind her are... fish?"

"Snowflakes," Isolde said. "Obviously." She wondered if burning a drawing of a goddess would be sacrilegious. Probably, which was a shame. "Show me yours, then."

Julian shook his head. "It's not done yet."

He was leaning against their bed, his bare feet angled towards the fire; his hands were smudged with ink. Isolde cradled her warm tea. There was something unfairly attractive about watching a man do something he was passionate about. Especially with his shirt off.

Heat rose to her cheeks. Julian raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

She looked away. "Nothing."

"If you say so," Julian said.

Isolde tucked one leg into her chest; she was wearing one of Julian's old shirts, a navy tee made from faded cotton. She was a tall girl, but the shirt was still oversized; the material reached just past her upper thigh.

Julian's smile was wry. "I wish you'd done the illustrations in the religious texts that I used to read. It would have made the sermons more bearable." Isolde laughed, and Julian's smile turned soft. "It's nice to hear you laugh. I haven't heard it in a while."

Isolde's smile faded. Was that true? Probably. It had been forty-eight hours since Julian returned, and their days had been filled with writing letters and making plans. This was the first moment they'd been alone together.

Julian extended the parchment. "Here. I've finished."

Isolde looked at the drawing. The young woman was sitting in front of the fireplace, her dark eyes shadowed. Damp blond hair fell into her face, half-obscuring the purple mark on her forehead. Her shoulders were hunched — almost vulnerable — but there was something fierce about her expression. As if she was daring you to mock her.

Isolde lowered the drawing. "You see me in a way that nobody else does."

Julian's eyelashes cast shadows across his cheekbones. "That's because you let me."

"No." Isolde shook her head. "You saw me far before I let you, Julian Winterthorpe. It irritated the hell out of me."

She touched the ring at her neck. The metal felt hot against her skin. She couldn't feel the words engraved in the metal today, but it didn't matter; she knew what they said. To You, I Have Always Been As I See Myself.

Julian exhaled. "Isolde..."

His gaze dropped to her mouth. There was something dark and hungry in Julian's gaze. Something wild and possessive that looked at her and said, mine. That look would have frightened her previously, but now...

Heat stirred in her stomach.

Isolde raised her chin. "Kiss me."

Julian lowered his head. He tasted of hot tea and the honeyed cake they'd eaten after dinner, his mouth warm against her own. She could feel the heat of him burning through her thin t-shirt, and she shivered, pulling him closer. Julian made a sound that was halfway between a curse and a groan.