Chapter Five
She left Kalgrin's house two days later, moving into the inn. Her mother kept giving not so subtle hints for Anya to secure Kalgrin in her life as quickly as possible, before she departed with the rest to that fort town in the north. Heidrun or something. Wyrms didn't like the cold, apparently. You didn't see many of them in the frozen north.
It made sense in a way, because even humans had issues adapting to such a cold climate. Her mother left the day before Anya moved, eager to start her new life away from everything that reminded her of the wyrms. She promised to message her every now and then, using a professional letter writer. Anya could do the same on the other end to listen to them.
She hugged and kissed each of her siblings goodbye, then her grandpa, saving mother for last.
“You do strong and well, baby girl,” Kendra had whispered. Her arms at that point felt like sturdy oak. The same arms that had pushed her out their mud hut to freedom, not thinking twice about the sacrifice it might have meant.
Such reckless mother’s arms.
Kalgrin helped Anya into the inn, buying her some extra clothes, making sure she had things to start her life running. He couldn't get her into his line of work just yet, so she worked under Seon's tutelage, learning to clean with aplomb. Seon herself had an interesting energy about her, a calming influence, and a secret that twinkled behind her eyes. Once, Anya had caught Seon whispering, though she didn't know what Seon whispered to.
Other times, Seon seemed to spot something in the shadows and jump, before settling back. An overactive imagination. Perhaps from trauma? Not that trauma happened to be anything unusual. People saw things all the time in the plantations. People spoke of ghosts and the dead watching over them.
Slowly but surely, Anya adapted to her new life. Days passed into weeks. She lived in the inn for the first few weeks until accumulating enough pay to move into a small hovel of her own, one street away from Kalgrin’s modest abode. It'd been the closest she could find to Kalgrin. A part of her didn't want him gone. She yearned sometimes to just knock on his door and stumble through, letting him cook his terrible tomato soup or help her with that bath.
Eventually, Kalgrin confirmed he'd secured the position for her, and she'd be speaking to them and dealing with them in the inn itself. No need to move from Tarn at all, except to go on trips for the more troubled humans.
Trips with Kalgrin. Bringing him back into her life again.
“It won't be easy work,” Kalgrin said, fondly patting her on the shoulder when he had given her the news in the inn. They sat next to each other. She'd gone for her break to talk to him. “Most people are far more broken than you. They've long since forgotten what hope feels like. What love feels like.”
Anya focused on Kalgrin's hand which still lay on the table. Such a strong, smooth thing. A hand that could break boulders, but didn't display a single blemish. It seemed to creep towards hers. Or did she creep to him, wanting to touch it? Wanting to remind herself of his warmth?
He just had to be so handsome, didn't he? All these dumb things she did – grabbing a house near him, almost shouting in triumph when his offer meant she stayed put or worked with him closely. Always thinking about knocking on his door and seeing if he was in.
Gods. Pretty looks couldn't do that to a person. Couldn't make her heart so painful. Smiles, maybe. Kindness, certainly. That twinkle in his eyes, definitely.
And that hand, moving across the table. Taking a deep breath, she casually let her fingers skim the top of his knuckles. Electricity crackled.
She hesitated. “It's not like we're given opportunities to understand what real love feels like. It's like being in a dark tunnel all the time. Except there's no light. Just blackness.”
Kalgrin's gray eyes followed the movement of her fingers. Anya's hair hung in little rivulets from her head, coiling from Seon's attempt at doing her hair up earlier. Imagine if she was bolder. Just letting her fingers trail up his arm, up to his cheek, cupping it, leaning forward to kiss...
No!
She blinked to get rid of the thought and blushed slightly. No. She just liked him because he was nice. Because he looked nice. Because he hit all the right buttons in her and made her think the sun shone out of his soul–
Because he... yeah. She needed to stop doing this. Waxing poetic about a dragon. A strong, mighty dragon with red wings that covered the sky...
“It almost sounds like you want someone to show you,” Kalgrin said softly. Letting her fingers stay on him. He didn't pull away. He also didn't seem like he was breathing.
“Maybe I do,” Anya said. “Or maybe I hope to show it to other people. Like the wretches you speak of. The ones who are broken.”
Kalgrin inhaled deeply at last. His gray eyes had seemed dazed for a moment. “Yes. Well.” Now he let out a grin. “If you want to be shown, I might know a guy around here who can help.”
Anya had watched him as he retreated back out the inn. Too long. Every step caught her eye. Even the way his rear packed itself in with his pace, that confident and fluid glide across the cobbles.
And she'd be working with him more. Her lips curved upwards.
Seemed like neither of them wanted each other to be gone.
When she closed her eyes in her new home, three times as big as her little mud hut, she dreamed of pleasant things. She dreamed of a better future, and didn't feel shame for it.
There was no shame in wanting a better life.