The Heir of Night

13

Three weeks passed and Theia had started to become more comfortable around Nyx. She continued to sleep on the couch, seeing her mother only when she needed to grab clothes. During the past week, she had seen Maia leaving her room and going into the bathing chamber on her own. Theia nearly cried as she watched her over the back of the couch, the small glimpse of her through the stair railing.

Maia no longer looked like a walking corpse. Her skin had more glow, her back straighter. The few times Theia saw her face, she noticed that her cheeks were fuller. She had been too young to remember when her mother looked more than skin stretched over bone.

Theia herself didn't look in the mirror since that first night. She knew her body had begun to heal itself, though she couldn't stomach the sight of herself. She had lived a majority of her life without knowing what she looked like, she didn't need to know now. Instead, she trusted Elena's compliments and the influx of attempts from the drunken trainees in the tavern.

She welcomed it tonight. She had taken a quick run to the house to change her clothes after a bag of flour had exploded on her at the bakery. When she was leaving, Nyx was leading another female into the house, sending Theia a wink as they passed. He had been careful not to have the females there when she returned from the tavern, but she knew they had been there. It was several times a week, and it made her mind wander into places she had never thought before.

She had never been one to seek out pleasure or the nights that a majority of the people in the village do. Every night, warriors leave with their selected interest for the night, and then return in search of another the next day. Theia always found it crude, but seeing Nyx do the same, she wondered how common it could be for her. Elena never left the tavern with a love interest, but often she went to the home of someone who she had spoken to that night. Theia had the honor of listening to the fine details every shift.

Now, Theia could guess who tonight's would be. Elena was effortlessly doing her job, filling glasses and taking orders. Yet every chance she had, Elena was sending hazy eyes at a male that hadn't left the wooden bar since he walked in. Theia watched Elena's technique as she served the ale to the gathering of warriors, wondering what she could do to join in on the debauchery of this camp.

Elena leaned over the counter, a tanned hand resting on the male's arm as she laughed at something he said. His cheeks were pink, as though he wasn't used to gaining interest with females. Theia noticed how Elena touched a thumb to her bottom lip, dragging the male's eyes there before her tongue ran across it. She was seducing him with simple touches.

Perhaps it was simply because of how stunning Elena was that she just had to show interest in whomever and they'd be in her bed. Theia didn't have that advantage, at least she didn't think so. She had never attempted to gain interest, only avoid it.

A finger tapped the counter, pulling Theia's eyes from Elena. Nyx was standing there, his arm around the female that she had seen walk into the house with him hours ago. She didn't have to hear his order. She filled two glasses of whiskey and placed them in front of him. Nyx opened his mouth to speak, but another male shoved in beside him.

"Ale, please." It was hurried, no patience behind his tone. Theia glanced over at him, ready to hand him the glass hard enough to spill it on his clothes. She filled the ale, meeting his eyes. He was someone that Elena would take home, and his eyes were trailing over Theia like they would for Elena. Maybe this would be her chance at seeing what was so desirable about taking someone to bed.

"Here," Theia murmured, watching his eyes drop to her lips. She was grateful they weren't so chapped anymore. He took the glass from her hand, his fingers curling over hers slightly. Theia cursed herself for the warmth rising to her cheeks, but she didn't pull her gaze from his. Perhaps she could lie and say she has experience, but the truth was that she had never felt lips on her own.