Page 10 of Gold & Shadow

I tried again. “What are you making?”

Orson’s eyes flicked to mine before he looked away, returning to his craft.

I sighed. “It wouldn’t kill you to talk to me, you know,” I said conversationally. “I have six sisters. I’m not used to the silence.”

“I am,” replied Orson tersely, still not looking up.

He was a hard male to read, flirtatious and suggestive one moment and closed off the next. I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted to figure him out. Which was stupid, since I planned to steal from him.

“How long have you lived here?” I tried yet again, hoping to find a topic he actually wanted to discuss. I told myself that befriending him would help get his guard down for when I took his amulet. But truthfully, I was curious about him. “Do you have a family?Do bears travel in a pack? How often do you go hunting? Do you ever go into the village? What do you need the glasses for?”

Orson sighed, putting down his carving and giving me an exasperated look. “If we must converse, then you can talk first,” he said, the longest full sentence he had spoken all day.

“Why?” I asked skeptically as Orson stood and went to the kitchen. He filled the kettle and set it to boil while fishing around for mugs in his disorganized cabinets.

“You want to talk,” Orson pointed out, mugs clinking as he moved. “And I’m curious about you.”

He returned to the armchair in which he had been sitting, handing me a mug of something hot and sweet. I accepted it, sniffing interestedly.

“Cocoa?” I asked, surprised that he would indulge in something sweet. He seemed like the meat and potatoes type, not the hot cocoa by the fire type.

“I make excellent cocoa,” he declared, gesturing at me to try it.

I took a sip, sighing as the warm, chocolatey sweetness heated me from the inside out. “Almost as good as my sister’s,” I said, giving him a nod.

“Perfect. Tell me about this sister,” Orson said, sipping his own cocoa before returning to his carving. His eyes were focused on the little object, his dark hair falling over his brow as he worked.

“Well,” I started, trying to figure out how much would be safe to share. “Izzy is the eldest. She makes the cocoa.”

“And her magic?” Orson pressed, his tone one of interest rather than strategic interrogation as he continued to carve.

“She’s a bloodweaver,” I replied, thinking of how annoyed Izzy would be that I rather liked this cocoa. “She can heal and hurt with blood alchemy.”

“Powerful,” Orson murmured, gesturing for me to continue with a quick upward glance.

“Lena is the second oldest,” I continued, warming to the topic. She’s a dreamweaver. And then me.”

“And you weave?” Orson asked, finally looking up from his work to give me a truly penetrating stare.

“Shadows,” I confessed.

“Shadows,” he repeated, his eyes narrowing.

I demonstrated by wrapping myself in darkness, pleased at his sound of surprise. Orson stood, walking around me and examining the cocoon of blackness with interest.

“Also powerful,” he commented, placing a hand through the shadows. I dropped them, and he pulled back his hand just shy of grazing my cheek. “That’s three sisters.”

He returned to his chair and picked up the carving again.

“The twins, Sera and Mora, are mirror opposites,” I said, thinking of my immediate younger siblings. “Sera weaves illusion and Mora, memory. Sera is flashy and Mora subdued.”

“And the others?” Orson asked, blowing on the wooden trinket he was making. A small cloud of dust and wood shavings plumed into the air.

“Calli inherited my father’s weatherweaving,” I said, thinking of my pale-haired sister and her raging temper. “And Ella is the baby of the family. She’s a greenweaver.”

“Plants?” Orson asked in clarification, running his thumb over the finished object. I couldn’t see what it was, and I craned my neck to see as I nodded.

He whistled. “Seven sisters with such powers.” He raised a brow at me. “What work exactly is it that you do?”