Chapter 4 Marabae

"How did you know I was worried about my lack of magic?" The question had been sitting on Mara's tongue since he first mentioned her magic, and she'd finally let it out.

Azrael rubbed at his brow. "I... heard your thoughts."

Her jaw dropped. "Wait. You can read people's emotions?"

"That is the least of the m... many things," he said, one hand striking his own thigh in frustration at the stumble, "I can do."

Mara let out a long breath. "Fine. You can stay."

"Thank you." His voice dropped lower. "You are kind. And beautiful too."

Mara went completely still.

Her fingers suddenly needed something to do. She looked down at her nails and began picking at one of them, refusing to look anywhere near him.

She had not expected that.

"Uhm." She cleared her throat, twice. "You'll sleep on the floor. I'll take the bed."

The words came out shakier than she meant them to.

"And one more thing." Another clearing of her throat. "You are never to leave this room. Never walk into my shop downstairs."

She didn't wait to see if he understood. She turned and walked toward the bed, pulling the curtain beside it back just enough to look outside.

The sky hung dark and strangely bare. No stars anywhere.

She let the curtain fall shut. "Goodnight, Azrael."

She climbed into bed, wrapped one arm tight around herself, and squeezed her eyes closed. Sleep did not come.

Azrael watched her from the floor.

Something in Mara had shifted. Her heart beat too fast for someone simply settling in to sleep. He could see it in the stiffness that never left her shoulders, in the way her whole body angled away from him.

But there was something stranger beneath it. He reached for her emotions the way he'd done without thinking since the moment he woke, and found nothing.

It was as though a wall stood around everything she felt.

He tried again. And again. Nothing came through.

Confused, he turned his attention elsewhere. He reached for the hem of the blanket he'd been given and pulled it over his head.

Mara turned, and her eyes landed on his bare back before she could stop them.

Her breath caught in her throat.

His skin was marked all over. Not one scar, not two, but dozens, some faded thin and pale with age, others still red and angry, cutting across his shoulders and down the length of his spine.

Her lips parted slightly. How had she missed this before?

Azrael felt the weight of her stare and turned.

Mara squeezed her eyes shut a half second too late.

He frowned, certain he'd felt her watching, but when he studied her face he found nothing to confirm it. He looked down instead, slid a hand beneath the blanket she'd given him, and smiled.

"This feels so warm."

Mara cracked one eye open. Azrael was already looking at her.

"Thank you, my lady."

Her other eye opened fully.

My lady.

Something jumped in her chest, quick and unfamiliar. No one had ever called her that. Not even Eden, in all their years of friendship. Was it simply how people spoke where he came from? And why, out of everything he could have said, had he chosen that?

She turned away before he could see whatever her face was doing.

Azrael lowered himself onto the floor beside her bed. "Goodnight, Marabae," he murmured.

She frowned at the strange nickname but didn't ask about it. He shut his eyes. Sleep refused to come for him either.

His mind stayed stubbornly awake, and once more he reached toward her, searching for any thread of feeling he might catch.

Once more, he found nothing.

It bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

Beside him, Mara turned onto her side. Then onto her back. Then the other side. She pulled her arm tighter around herself each time.

Sleep would not take her either.

This was the first night in twenty five years that she had not slept alone in this room. And now a strange man lay on her floor, a man who happened to also be a dragon, a man who had somehow rearranged the whole shape of her quiet life in under a single day.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Had she made a mistake letting him stay? Was he lying to her, saying whatever he needed to say just to keep a roof over his head?

She sighed into the dark. Did I do the right thing?

Across the room, Azrael stared up at the ceiling, running through his own list of worries. Was she angry that he'd taken her only blanket? Was she cold because of him? Had he crowded her, taken up space that wasn't his to take?

He pushed himself up onto his elbows. "I'm sorry."

At the exact same moment, Mara rolled toward him. "I'm sorry."

They stared at each other.

Neither spoke.

A small, embarrassed laugh slipped out of her. "Okay. That was weird."

His mouth twitched, then his brows lifted. What did she have to be sorry for?

She yawned. "You go first."

He shook his head. "No. Ladies first."

Mara pushed herself upright and scratched the back of her neck. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

He watched her, waiting.

"I'm sorry for making you sleep on the cold floor." Her eyes dropped to her own palms. "I only have this one small bed."

Azrael's expression softened. "I am sorry for b... barging into your life."

Mara blinked. "What? You don't have anything to be sorry for. It's not your fault. I'm the one who broke the bottle."

She let a small smile through. "I haven't had company since my grandmother passed."

His shoulders eased. He pressed a hand to his chest. "I am sorry about your grandmother. I thought you were angry with me."

Mara lowered her feet to the floor but stayed sitting on the edge of the bed. "Well." She sighed. "I am still angry with you."

His eyebrows shot up. "For what?"

"For not remembering anything about where you came from. I don't even know how long you'll be here."

His lips twitched again. "Do you want me to leave?"

The smile fell from her face fast. "No." The word came out before she could stop it. "Tomorrow I'll look through my herbs, see if anything might help your memory."

Something shifted in his face. "Oh." He looked down at the floor. "Can you do something to help..." He stopped himself.

Mara watched him quietly. "To help you stop stuttering?"

He nodded.

She shrugged. "I can try."

"Really?" His whole face lit up. "I... I would be very grateful."

For reasons she couldn't name, Mara found herself staring at the small dimple that appeared in his left cheek whenever he smiled like that.

She looked away fast.

"Why weren't you sleeping?" he asked.

She bit at her lower lip. "I just couldn't." That was only half true. The whole truth was fear, plain and simple. Fear that if she let herself drift off, the nightmares would find her the way they always did.

"What about you?" she asked.

He hesitated. "I am afraid."

"Afraid?"

He nodded. "That I'll have nightmares."

Her eyes widened. "You have nightmares?"

"I tried sleeping this afternoon, after you sent me away." His gaze fell to the floor. "I had nightmares."

He swallowed hard. "Memories. Of my past."

Her brows drew together. "Memories?"

"It's a long story, Mara." He reached over and touched her wrist, gentle and brief. "You should sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

His fingers stayed there only a moment before he pulled them back.

He lowered himself onto the floor again, and within minutes his breathing slowed and evened out. Asleep.

Mara looked down at the spot on her wrist where his fingers had been.

Her skin still felt warm there. Not unpleasant. Something closer to comfort.

She climbed back beneath her blanket, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, the room did not feel entirely empty.

Her eyes grew heavy. Sleep came easier than it had in years.

---

Mara woke to the feeling of strong arms wrapped around her.

Her eyes flew open. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard it hurt. She jerked upright, fists already curling, ready to strike whoever had gotten hold of her.

Then she saw him.

Azrael. Still asleep, his arms loosely draped around her middle.

She remembered, all at once, that she wasn't alone anymore. The breath she'd been holding left her in a long rush.

But when did he climb into her bed?

She eased herself out from under his arm and climbed carefully out of bed. He shifted but didn't wake.

She stood there a moment, and something occurred to her.

She searched back through the night in her mind. No screaming. No cold sweat clinging to her skin. No visions clawing their way up from sleep. Nothing at all.

Her eyes filled before she could stop them. She pressed a hand over her mouth.

For the first time in twenty five years, she had slept the whole night through without a single nightmare.

A tear slid down her cheek. Then another. She smiled through both of them.

"Oh, stars." Her voice wavered. "I don't know why my nightmares left me alone last night, but." She wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Thank you."

She washed up, dressed, and went down into the shop. She swept every corner clean before turning the sign to OPEN.

Outside, the storm had finally blown itself out, though thick snow still buried the front step. She grabbed her broom, pushed the door open, and stepped out to start clearing it.

She'd barely made it through a few sweeps when a nervous voice spoke up behind her.

"Young miss?"

She stopped and turned.

The elf from the day before. He stood a short distance off, shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking thoroughly uneasy.

Mara rested both hands on top of the broom handle. "Good morning."

He swallowed. "I'm sorry to bother you." His fingers twisted together in fro

nt of him. "But did you, by any chance, come across a wooden box of mine?"

Her brows pulled together. "A wooden box?"

He nodded, quick and eager. "Yes." His eyes flicked past her, toward the shop door. "A very important one.”