“Shake well. Don’t tell.”
At least now Robin knew for sure which raven it was.
He made a face and resisted the urge to tear at his hair. It was already a disaster, no need to add to it.
“There’s nothingtotell,” Robin snapped at a sassy, nameless mate. “Unless you know what Lucas has glimpsed of the future.”
Naturally, the bird went silent.
Robin huffed. Lucashadseen or been told something about himself, even if he didn’t understand it. Now he was frustrated and Robin was being weird.
Robin stepped to the other side of the bench and picked up the teacup. Lucas had only had about half of it during his conference with Flint. The liquid and bits of tea leaf sloshed to and fro as Robin walked to the railing. Flint’s mate hopped over to meet him, peering down when Robin overturned the cup and held it there, breathing hard.
When the sunlight started to disappear behind the oaks, and it was now or never, Robin lifted the cup.
“The sun, and the moon, and the stars,” he murmured, disappointed and annoyed with himself for wishing he had gifts like normal witches. He stared down atdestinyandthe future.Power.Blinding light. Robin didn’t need bits of tea leaves to tell him Lucas had something great and likely terrible in front of him. Robin had already known that. Everyone did. “This is no better than seeing nonsense.”
“Blessing,” grunted the bird.
Robin scratched its cheeky little face. “If you say so.”
“Blessing,” said the raven again, as if that had been a dare.
Nine
The day before Yule felt like an ending. Maybe that was why Robin woke up so early to stare at the ceiling and a clinging trail of cobweb that Lucas had missed.
Yulewasan ending. And a beginning. But Robin couldn’t have cared less about the sun or the seasons. He spent most, if not all, of his time in a workroom where, except for preferring natural light to work in, the seasons were of little interest. He didn’t have a connection to the land like Lucas, or the two kings, or any witch with a green thumb. Robin did not even have a connection topeople. Well, not to many living people.
But he knew when a story was near the end and a project was near completion. When it was about time to put it down and pick up something else.
He had told Lucas that he could stay as long as he wanted, and Lucas had hinted that he could keep on as he’d been for a while. But that had been before Robin had stared at him with kisses and questions on his mind. Robin didn’t know how that would factor into anything, and the original arrangement, as much as Mallory had discussed it with Robin, had Yule as the implied end date.
Tomorrow, or the week after, or a month from then, but the end now had its place on the horizon.
It wasn’t as if Lucas was going to leave forever when he went to his family tomorrow. But perhaps, judging from how quiet he’d been the night before, he might want to. Persephone had brought Lucas a small travel kit for his nails, along with nail polish remover, cotton balls, base coat and top coat, and three bottles of what Persephone had informed Robin were expensive but long-lasting color polish, and Lucas had spent part of the evening taking care of his hands but not doing much talking.
Robin, embarrassed at the state of his own, had fetched his kit to at least smooth down his fingernails, and had used the lotion Persephone had given him. He had also realized his feet were in the same shape and ran to the bathroom to take care of themfirst before returning to the living room to deal with his hands. He’d never done his nails while feeling vaguely miserable before. The only relief had been when Lucas had set out the three bottles of color and given Robin a look of inquiry.
The first was a shade of black, naturally, but with subtle sparkles. The second a dark matte green. The third, a color between blue and purple that changed in the light.
Robin chose green, for both holly and oak, and smiled when Lucas agreed, but there still had not been much conversation, and Lucas had kept to the armchair and away from the couch, struggling slightly when using his left hand for the final coat but not asking for help.
It wasn’t as if Robin had anything to offer to make Lucas stay, either, not even a decent heating system. Although the firewood delivery should arrive before noon. Robin would help, or try to help, put it away, but Lucas was going to end up doing most of the work.
It was also noticeably colder in the house, which meant that outside, it would be unpleasant. Lucas’ prediction of snow was looking more and more likely.
Robin got off the couch at the thought, and cleaned up a little before creeping to the kitchen. Clouds outside meant no sun, but there was light enough to tell him when it was dawn. He should be up this time tomorrow as well, for the solstice, and should prepare food with that in mind and not just think of Lucas.
But he mostly had Lucas’ stomach in his thoughts while he went back and forth to the pantry and used up what stores he had. He made a simple but hearty bread, going so far as to set the timer to remind him of when it would need attention, and rolls from the same dough, with butter melted over the tops. He took chicken from the freezer and left it out to defrost whilehe considered breakfast, and was grateful Mallory had brought extra butter so he could make the dough for orange shortbread cookies.
When he dropped off packages in town today, he’d have to go to the store. He should try to conserve some of this burst of energy, but he liked the idea of Lucas coming downstairs to find a big breakfast waiting for him too much to stop and rest.
He didn’t want to think about how much he liked it. Anyway, he didn’t have time with so many projects going.
Robin fried an egg for himself to keep his stomach from complaining, and then boiled two more eggs for the ravens. Not because they were underfed, but because it was difficult not to think of them when one of them was rudely occupying one of the chairs from the workroom that one of the Greysmiths had left in here yesterday.
“Birds in the kitchen,” Robin told it disapprovingly, again, even though it was far away from any cooking. “This isn’t a workspace.” He clucked his tongue. “And you’re not a familiar.”
