Her smile is quick and beautiful. It cuts right into me. “Please.”
She taps off her boots, then steps into my hut. As I close the door behind her, I’m overwhelmed with the fresh smellof snow and pine, which must cling to her from her trip through the Mistwood.
Lyra removes her cloak and hat—releasing her wild red curls—and her rat, Juniper, pops her head out of Lyra’s pocket. Next, she pulls off her boots, then sets them beside the door. When she’s done, she turns her gaze up to meet mine.
And I have no idea what to say, except for, “Uh... what are you doing here?”
Her smile falters a bit. “I have a lot to say to you. Do you mind if we sit down? Maybe have something warm to drink?” She rubs her hands together, bringing a small flame to life in her palms, using it to warm herself.
I watch the flame dance, casting subtle light across her freckled face. And when she smothers it between her palms, it sends up a tiny twirling puff of smoke.
“Of course.” I gesture for her to step into the kitchen. “Any requests?”
“Dandelion latte!” she says as soon as the words leave my mouth.
A smile tugs on my lips, a chuckle slipping out of me. “Okay. I can do that.”
I’m still holding the ribbon in my fist, and I drop it into the pocket of my knit sweater after Lyra turns her back to me to walk into the kitchen.
Lyra takes a seat in a chair, and Juniper hops out of her pocket to scurry around on the table, sniffing for crumbs. But she won’t find any—one of the ways I’ve been trying to distract myself from thoughts of Lyra is by cleaningeverything I can get my hands on. The kitchen table is so spotless that the wood gleams a little in the gray light coming through the kitchen window.
Lyra pulls her legs up, tucking her knees into her chest and resting her chin atop them. As I get started on the lattes, gathering up the spices I’ll need, I can feel her gaze on my back. We’re both quiet as I brew the dandelion-root coffee, and still we say nothing as I sprinkle cinnamon into each cup and drizzle a little bit of honey on top. I take my time, finding myself hesitant about sitting down and having to look her in the eye.
Why is she here? What does she need to say so badly that she ventured all the way to Coven Crest from Wysteria? And in the snow no less.
Finally, there’s nothing else I can do to the cups except turn and put them on the table. So, I take a steadying breath, then do just that.
“Careful,” I say to Lyra as I set the cup—hercup, the hand-painted one I’ve not touched since the last time she drank from it—in front of her. “It’s hot.”
One of her brows pulls up, and I recognize the humor in her eyes. But instead of joking with me, she just says, “Thanks.” She wraps her hands around the cup and takes a sniff of it while I sit down. She lets out a long sigh. “I’ve been craving one of these since—”
Her words cut off.
Since the morning after we spent our first night together. I’ve been craving something since then too, but not a latte.
“Hopefully it won’t disappoint,” I say softly.
She tips her head at me. “I think that’s impossible.”
The look she gives me makes me wonder if we’re still talking about the lattes.
Juniper squeaks something to Lyra, who then flicks a look at me and says, “Do you have any snacks?” At that exact moment, her stomach grumbles, making her cheeks flush red again. “It was a long wagon ride.”
Grateful for another excuse to not have to sit at the table looking awkward and nervous, I busy myself with cutting a few slices of the bread I baked yesterday and dicing up what’s left of my hunk of artisan nut cheese. I plate everything on a big platter, then return to the table and set it down.
And Lyra’s already done with her latte—apart from the little bit of foam around the rim of the cup.
I blink at her. “Did you... drink that whole thing?”
She gives me a big smile. “Told you I’ve been craving one.”
With a chuckle and a shake of my head, I sit down and gesture to the bread and cheese. “It’s all yours.”
Lyra and Juniper immediately dive in, and I take a moment to sip my latte while observing her, still wondering what she wants to say to me.
And what I’m going to say in return.
“What is this?” Lyra asks, her mouth partially full with a bite of cheese.
