Deepwood Weald I Don't Belong Here

Almost immediately after the words left Themis’s mouth, she began to start backtracking. Seeing rejection where there was none.

I mean, I meant to say, I, mm, uh, well if you’re uncomfortable I-.

Vorilye cut her off, and she wanted to weep, because thank the gods. Someone needed to shut her up before she embarrassed herself any further. She braced, harder, ears falling back.

A heartbeat. Two. She was listening to what he was saying, but not registering. Her chest skipped a painful beat. He wanted this. He felt for her in ways she didn’t understand, she had said before that she didn’t quite get it, and she never had. Pidáo and her childhood had taken away that opportunity to learn.

She stood, after a moment, slipping away from the mushrooms to press her face into Vorilye’s chest, if he would allow it. She took a deep, shuddering breath.

I..I do want you to be my crown. But I also can’t lie to you. I don’t know what it feels like to love someone as a partner. Only one wolf in my life has pursued me seriously, besides you, and…he projected a delusion onto me, pushed me into a position of leadership I did not want as a courting gift.

How long ago had it been? Since she was Belladonna? Since she ran, since she became Nephele? The cloud, so easily dispersed by the wind, by fear.

She was steady now. Justice, divine order.

Themis was not a weather phenomenon, or a state of day. She had come to earth.

But I want to learn it. I want to know. She swallowed painfully, letting her eyes fall closed.

And I want you to show me.