the tunnel system, near the surface. Dreama was right—this wasn’t the most secure place to wait out an invasion, if one came. Plus, Astor had more or less told me he wasn’t a fighter, and I certainly had no skills in personal defense. So why wasn’t I worried?
But I wasn’t. It was almost like I could feel this would end up okay. Maybe it was the organized, focused way the others in this clan reacted, like they’d done this process a million times and were used to it. I mean, if they’d lived through it before, by definition, losing to the Reamers or other barbarians must be survivable.
Still, I thought about Cannon and wondered what survival even meant.
Inside the sanctum of his quarters, Astor secured the door and ran a hand through his long hair. “Food. Right.”
He went over to one of his tables with bubbling beakers and lab-looking equipment, and deposited an armload of things he’d been nicking from baskets as people had passed us. I didn’t recognize any of them, but even as I watched, being at first too confused and then too ignorant to help, Astor started washing, sorting, and cutting the items. He pulled tiny vials from a shelf, sniffed a few, sprinkled some into a cauldron-looking thing, and started adding the chopped bits. After a while, a rich, savory smell suffused the air. My mouth flooded, and my stomach constricted in hunger.
Cooking. Astor was cooking. “You’re cooking,” I said, sort of awkwardly stating the obvious.
He glanced up but then ducked his face again, as if he were deeply interested in his work. But I caught that look, that vulnerability in his expression, and it squeezed my heart.
“I like to cook,” he said in a low, almost defiant voice. “I also like to treat sick people and speak poetry, all of which are things that men do not do. What I do not enjoy is hurting others, claiming rights to land or people, killing, or fucking women who only want payment. My family and close friends know my peculiarities and indulge me, but others…”
Doing this in front of me, for me, was an act of trust. I wanted to be very, very careful not to betray that trust. “Have people always been cruel to you because you are so amazing?”
He looked up at me sharply. His sure, steady, long-fingered hand dropped a slice of tuber.
“Does that word mean to you what it means to me?”
I walked toward him. “I’m pretty sure it does. Astor, in the brief time I’ve been here, I’ve watched you take an interest in technology, science, strategy, reading, plants, poetry, cooking, taking care of the ill, and who knows what else. Where I am from, you would be highly sought after for those things.”
“Your men are…not only valued for their fighting skills and the war trophies they bring home?”
I shook my head. “No. I mean, some are. But some men are gentler, with more intellectual interests. And yet some people can be interested in both. It’s what makes us individuals.”
I picked up the knife next to him and proceeded to cut with him. Was this why Nox had told me not to stare? Because Astor might very well be cooking something? Or because Astor embodied a lot of characteristics considered feminine?
We stood like that for long seconds, before he lifted a piece of the vegetable he chopped and offered it to me. I could have taken it with my hand. In fact, that would’ve been the absolutely right thing to do. But instead, I opened my mouth. It was a daring, improper move. But these men touched me all the time, they didn’t seem to have the same boundaries.
He placed the food on the tip of my lips, watching as I brought it in with my tongue and chewed. His eyes widened, and he adjusted his stance, turning toward the table to grasp another piece. He did the same thing.
That warm feeling that kept coming and going in me returned. Neither of us said a word as he fed me again and again.
His hand came out finally to cup my cheek. He brought his head down, our lips close to each other. “You wear his brand, but you will wear mine.”
His mouth met mine. His lips were gentle, and he kissed me softly. I pressed against him, deepening the kiss. Seconds passed before he opened his mouth, inviting my tongue inside. I was no expert at this, and we seemed to be