Page 40 of Wateredge

“I’m sorry you got burned. And thank you for healing me.”

The smile she gave Seren was radiant.

“I was this close to not believing Victoria despite witnessing her magic. Despite her telling me about it and about all of you. But this?” Lark glanced at their joined hands. “Well, this is different. What else can you do?”

Seren felt her mouth drop open. Of all the reactions she could have expected, sincere joy and curiosity were not among them.

Lark drew her right hand, the one Seren assumed had not taken the brunt of the fire, and touched the top of the ice, allowing the susurration of the water that was now flooding the floor under their feet to run over her fingers.

“This is amazing!” She laughed. Giggled, really.

Seren lifted her arm, whispered a gentle “Come Water, bring snow…” while wiggling her fingers, and quiet snowflakes started falling from the ceiling, disappearing as they hit the floor.

“This is the craft,” Seren said, her own mouth turning up at the ends, the joy confusing and yet contagious.

Lark leaned closer, sniffing at the ice on their hands, and Seren nearly lost her footing.

“It’s real, and yet it smells of… linen just washed? Something cozy and warm? How can it?”

Lark caught a fluffy snowflake in her palm, her eyes wide with wonder. The sight almost took Seren’s breath away. She ducked her head, her smile bashful now.

“Magic?” She finally met Lark’s eyes, and they burst out in laughter together.

Seren watched the woman in front of her throw her head back, elation personified, happiness radiating from her in waves, Seren’s ice and snow disappearing on their fingers, the moment suspended in time. And then, just as the cracks in the ice threatened to break their connection, Lark leaned in and laid her lips on Seren’s.

The kiss was slow, gentle, Lark’s mouth slanted over hers at an angle that didn’t allow for much more than a relatively chaste touch, yet Seren could swear she had never been kissed like this. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her ears were ringing, and as the ice melted over their joined hands, she turned her palm and captured Lark’s, who moaned quietly into the kiss.

It was over before Seren knew what was happening, before she could lean in properly, before she could take that full lower lip into hers, before she could grab the back of that slender, long neck and bring their faces closer.

Lark retreated, her lips pink, her mouth smiling. Her tongue coming out and licking at her upper lip as if tasting Seren.

Breathless, Seren reached out, wanting to say something, to speak, to apologize or to beg. Instead, she just watched as Lark picked up her bag before quietly closing the front door behind herself.

The house exhaled and settled over Seren’s shoulders, its disappointment evident in every small creak of board and beam. For once, its emptiness felt heavy, foreign.

“Lark’s not here.”

Victoria’s voice sounded muffled from her bedroom. Seren took a few steps inside, deciding which room to choose for this conversation, before settling on the kitchen.

Something about their family always drew them to congregate around the hearth, around food. Speaking of which, more lasagna was heating up on the stove. Seren had forgone food after Lark left, too discombobulated to eat. Now her stomach growled, and she reached for a plate from the top shelf.

A throat clearing from the doorway made her turn around. Her aunt watched from the threshold, and Seren wondered when the last time she had actually looked at Victoria was. Really looked.

The woman had been a constant presence in her life since before Seren could remember. Always busy, always tired. The pale green eyes had been there for her when life felt like it would snap Seren in half if she as much as blinked wrong.

And yet her aunt had held steady. During long, painful nights. During empty, lonely days. Through very good and through very bad, there she was. Tall, slender, her red hair gone gray early, always pulled back from her face, leaving a few flyaways to tease the narrow, angular features, Victoria Crowhart had always been a vision. Deceptively willowy, those arms had held Seren and her sisters’ world up for longer than they should have had to.

“Take a picture, kiddo. It will last longer.”

Seren smiled for a small second before something in Victoria’s words stopped her in her tracks. It felt familiar, not the turn of phrase itself, but as if someone had told her that already. Recently. Something about lasting longer. Something about permanence. She dug into her memory, but the thread was elusive.

Victoria brushed by her and motioned for Seren to sit.

“Did you hear me tell you that Lark isn’t here?” Her aunt served a generous portion, wiping the edges of the plate clean, as undoubtedly the habit of doing so kicked in, and presented it to her with little flourish and lots of precision, as it landed exactly in the middle of the place mat.

“I did,” Seren said and allowed the food to cool as she kept watching her aunt assemble her own plate. “I came to see you.”

Victoria sat opposite her and narrowed her eyes.