Posted 2023-12-29; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12


Shifting in her seat in the wagon, Bella carefully adjusted her grip on the package of glyko stems. Each bump in the road jostled them slightly, treating her to flickers of startlingly bright indigo just visible through the roughly woven wrap. The stems were valuable, and Bella gifting them to the Hatzis would signal her altered status in the Cullen family.

Everyone, including Edward, had assured her that the Hatzis would receive the news well. Of course, having people offer reassurances about what was supposed to be positive news was less than convincing.

Bella glanced up at Edward, who smiled. He was probably trying to be encouraging.

Out of courtesy, she returned the expression, looking towards the front of the wagon where Rose and Emmett sat. Her future sister-in-law looked at ease, her relaxed posture at odds with the conversation Bella had overheard earlier and that still troubled her.

The wagon bounced over a rut, dumping Bella into Edward's side. It was like sliding into a soft rock—one that gently righted and steadied her.

No one else had been unseated by the movement. Bella felt a flare of frustration. Even after her weeks learning everything new in Sabellia, she still wasn't used to being bad at things—reading, being polite, dressing, dying fabric, staying upright—ugh. More and more, she found herself longing to fit in.

She allowed herself a small and flustered exhale, practically feeling Edward's gaze land on her. A wave of heat rose and fell on her cheeks. She faced forward, mustering control.

Get a grip.

She really needed to, not only for tonight and the sake of the Cullens, but for herself. Stress and negative feelings weren't good to hold onto, and they wouldn't help a . . . pregnancy, either.

Bella focused on their still-distant destination, rehearsing what she would say to Mr. and Mrs. Hatzis. Though they were the Cullens' closest neighbors, it was a solid fifteen-minute ride to the long tree-lined drive that led up to the house. Against the growing darkness, the house was a warm beacon.

Behind her, Alice murmured something to Jasper. Esme clucked and muttered to no one in particular. From what Bella could gather, the Hatzis house was overlit. Catching a few more snippets, she understood that the Hatzis were unnecessarily squandering resources, certainly a sin in the Cullen household.

Her new family wasn't miserly, but they were frugal. Even the glykobay stems resting on her lap were evidence of this. When fresh and properly treated, they released an exceptionally strong and fast dye. Though most people gave their cuttings over to an industrial processor in exchange for a pot of the precious blue liquid, Esme preferred her family's traditional method, claiming hand-pressed dye kept its color longer.

The package of stems was also an informal announcement, one female mates-to-be used to communicate news of an engagement before a formal assembly. It struck Bella as odd, that they could share the news this way but not otherwise discuss or announce it.

Then again, all societies had their unique customs, and she found this one more charming than quirky.

As they drew closer, discordant strains of Sabellian music grew louder. Just outside the house, Bella hid a wince at an acutely grating chord. As before, the instruments sounded badly out of tune and, as these sounded stringed, it amplified the unpleasant effect.

At the house, a tall blond man in a dark and formal suit bowed to them, murmuring welcome. He disappeared, returning with the small host family, two of whose members were already familiar to Bella: Arla Hatzis and her son Stolos. They were accompanied by Quintus, Arla's husband.

When Bella and Edward presented the package of stems to her, Mrs. Hatzis blinked a few times, staring at Bella. She looked to Esme and then Edward and laughed. "You—am I to take this in the traditional way? Or are you playing boyhood tricks again, Edward?"

Beside her, Bella sensed rather than felt Edward's stillness.

After a beat, he replied smoothly, "Is there a way, beyond the traditional, with which a hostess receives such a gift?"

Mrs. Hatzis recovered herself, smiling graciously at them. "Well then, my sincerest congratulations to you both. I wish you joy. And Esme, shall I send you my factor's wife to help with the dying?"

"That's kind of you," Esme said, "but I think we can manage without burdening your household."

Arla waved this off. "No burden at all. We are well staffed. But enough household talk. Come into the parlor for refreshments before dinner."

Beyond the obvious gaffe, Mrs. Hatzis's greeting felt . . . off. Struggling to isolate the reason, Bella followed her family, politely smiling at the man who had greeted them at the door. When he averted his gaze, Bella's sense of unease grew.

They passed through a large formal entranceway, a sweeping grand staircase curving towards a second story. Polished to a sheen, the bannister was pockmarked with divots and dull patches. Where the walls met cornices, the wallpaper bubbled, and in a few spots, threatened to curl away from the wall. When their butler-like greeter slipped through a servant's entrance, Bella caught sight of a lampa arm probing the wall—obviously hungry. Though the house appeared larger and grander than the Cullens', it was not nearly so well-maintained.

Inside the parlor, a candle-filled chandelier hung in place of a lampa, and Bella understood why Alice had been so shocked. Candles were an unnecessary expense.

"Please, enjoy a glass of our new wine," Mrs. Hatzis said. A young woman in a plain dress silently offered drinks on a tray, carefully avoiding eye contact with the guests.

The Hatzis have servants.

The Cullens had a household, and while the members of it didn't regularly dine together, it was because of space constraints, not social ones.

Bella thanked the woman for her glass, the averted gaze and mumbled response confirmation of her theory.

Why?

The thought was cut off by the start of another round of music.

She masked the desire to wince, but she must have twitched in some way because Edward was quickly at her side. "Mr. Hatzis, would you mind if I took Miss Swan on a brief tour?"

Mr. Hatzis smiled and waved them towards the door. The expression revealed the most human-looking teeth Bella had seen on Sabellia. Bella noted that his fingers were discreetly clawed, as were those of Mrs. Hatzis and their son. She knew most Sabellians were hybrids, but she'd never seen ones that looked so human before. Not that she'd met a lot of them, she reminded herself.

"This way." Edward nudged her forward by the elbow.

He was eager to have them leave the room. Had she done something wrong?

She followed, leaving her glass on the side table. They walked silently down a wide, wood-paneled hallway, and then through a narrower stone one. This ended at a thick wooden door that opened into a cavern of green humidity.

Bella gaped, staring up and around the glass conservatory. It was big—bigger than the Cullens' kitchen. Lampas rested in suspended metal cradles, squirming slightly as they sought purchase on the glass ceiling. The room was full of the sound of their tentacles squeaking on the glass.

"Do I need to apologize?" Bella peeked up at Edward.

"No, why?"

"Well, you ran me out of there like I'd farted at church or something."

There was the familiar and confused wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"I thought I might have offended our hosts or embarrassed you."

"No, if anything"—he shook his head—"I could tell the music was making you uncomfortable. In a small space it has that effect on humans."

Bella smiled in relief and gratitude. "It was." She thought about that for a moment, recalling what he'd told her at the market. "You said I wouldn't be able to hear all the harmonies."

"You won't, though you likely will . . . later."

Later.

"Of course." Later. When she was pregnant.

That afternoon, he'd brought her a very old book that detailed the physiological changes she was to expect. It had been informative—to the point of being grisly. After skimming the first chapters and reading descriptions of the literal mating fever, she'd been happy to set it aside to get ready for tonight. Further reading would require mental preparation. Edward had promised to answer any questions she had, and she was sure she would have plenty of those.

When she glanced at him, she found him looking around the room. Away from her.

Were things getting a bit too real for him too?

She thought of his hesitation in referencing the pregnancy. Was he uncomfortable because he was having second thoughts? It would only be natural. It was one thing to make a noble offer with only family around and quite another to publicly declare it.

Bella pretended to study the plants, until Edward broke the awkward silence.

"I've made you feel uncomfortable."

He was so good at reading her. "No, you haven't. Honestly. I was just thinking about . . . uh, later." She wasn't going to use the P word if he was avoiding it.

He was quiet for a moment, before asking, "Would you like to go back?"

"No," she said quickly. "Not while the music is playing, thank you. You, um, seem to know your way around this place." She waved her hand around the room.

Edward hummed and then chuckled. "I used to play here with Stolos. I liked this room. It's been cleaned up since I was last here. It was mostly used for storage back then. In any case, Stolos wasn't often allowed outside, and this was a good substitute. I don't think we were very good for the few plants, though." He eyed one of the larger specimens, running his hand over its pock-marked trunk. "I think he's the primary gardener now."

"Why weren't you allowed outside?"

"Oh, I was, but Stolos wasn't. He had a way of finding trouble—or at least, it found him. So much so that his nickname was Tormos."

Trouble.

She thought of Stolos's recent visit to Sherooz Adnios, which brought her right back to her own circumstances.

"I was wondering . . ."

Edward tilted his head as he watched her. "Wondering . . .?"

"If announcing the engagement here might be making things . . . real for you, I suppose."

"Real." He paused. "It is as real as it was this afternoon. What is it you're trying to tell me, Bella?"

She brushed her finger over the frond of a fern-like plant. "I wondered if you'd had second thoughts." She frowned, realizing he might not know the idiom. "If you were regretting your offer. I would understand if you were."

"Oh." He closed the gap between them, taking her hand in his.

She wished they weren't wearing gloves.

"And you thought I was embarrassed about that? When I brought you in here?" he asked.

"I wasn't sure."

"No," Edward said, shaking his head. "I don't regret our engagement. Not at all. But I am embarrassed at something else, though I thought I was hiding it well enough. You're very intuitive, Bella. I apologize for making you worry."

Relieved, Bella wrestled with the urge to ask what he was embarrassed by, waiting—hoping for an explanation.

Edward sighed, correctly assessing her silence. "I told you about surrogates." He lifted an eyebrow in question.

"Yes."

"In our recent history, our views on sexuality have changed drastically. We've worked to shift the way we think, speak, or act on our desires. And for a Sabellian man to desire a human woman is beyond backwards, it's"—he frowned—"the epitome of indulgence, impulsiveness, a lack of physical and moral substance or control. You asked me if I was having regrets, and the truth is that I have none, but I have struggled with . . . my attraction to you. We are so carefully taught not to devalue others, to care for them as full people. It's troubled me that I haven't been able to control my baser feelings." He cleared his throat. "I cherish your acceptance of my offer—your trust in me. I would understand, though, if what I've just told you changes how you feel about our engagement."

As he looked at her, his expression was so earnest that Bella felt a stab of guilt for the laughter that bubbled out of her—laughter born of nerves, of relief, and of feeling like an awkward teenager. He was attracted to her? "It's alright , Edward. Honestly, I'm . . . relieved. I've been worried that your offer had been made in a rush of nobility. I . . . find you attractive as well."

Edward's fingers were suddenly tighter around her hand. He swallowed hard as he slowly lessened the pressure.

"We shouldn't be gone too long," he said.

"I guess not." They were alone together in a secluded part of the house, and she didn't have to think too hard about what sort of speculation might be going on. "Do you want to finish giving me the grand tour?"

He looked much more at ease when he smiled. "Come see the butterfly plants. They might be blooming." Tugging at her hand, he took her around the periphery of the conservatory, where two squat bushes sat in round yellow pots, pale yellow butterfly-shaped flowers quivering in the breeze generated by their arrival. "They actually flutter in the sunlight. I loved watching them when I was little."

Edward pointed out some of the other plants, which were less visually interesting but more useful medicinally—some to heal, and others . . .

"Is that nightshade?" She eyed the yellow-coned purple flowers. Though caged, the slats were wide enough to allow a child's fingers access.

"We call it Solana, and it's caged for a reason." Edward frowned. "Only the most skilled apothecaries handle it, usually for severance purposes."

It didn't sound like Edward felt those circumstances were at play in the Hatzis household.

"We have it on earth, or something like it," she said, leaning in to inspect it, catching a whiff of its spicy scent—like cloves. Her mother had kept a small plant in their locked greenhouse, swearing by the stem-tincture she'd use for her eczema. After her mother's death, it had been the first thing Bella's father had thrown out.

They turned back to the entranceway, skirting a grouping of tall, potted plants, nearly running into an elevated metal plant stand.

"Weird," Bella muttered, eyeing the odd shape.

Edward, however, was frozen beside her, also staring, though not in curiosity.

She looked more closely at the waist-high stand, tilting her head. It looked . . . human shaped. A plant with trailing fronds sat where a head might, the neck, chest, arms, and legs contained short succulents, and the groin was filled with rust-coloured grass, the realistic effect leaving Bella blushing. Each plant featured a hand-printed label. "Sidero grass" was affixed to the tufty outcropping.

"Unbelievable," Edward whispered.

"Definitely a bit odd."

"No." Edward grimaced, shaking his head. "It—this is"—he sucked in a breath—"this should not be here. I'll explain it later." Still, he stared at the plants, not moving, the tightness in his jaw suggesting a struggle to suppress strong emotion.

Bella stared too, thinking about what the shape suggested. Was it possible this cage-like structure had been used as some sort of aid or . . . restraint? Edward's reaction certainly indicated something nefarious about its origins, and in light of their recent discussion, it seemed feasible.

Both Edward's earlier admission and the current subject brought to mind the conversation she'd overheard earlier in the day. Perhaps a slight change of subject would be welcome.

"Edward?"

"Yes?" He appeared slightly less angry as he looked at her.

"Can you hear your family and the Hatzsis right now?"

"No, why?"

"I overheard something that I shouldn't have today, and I wanted to ask you about it in private." She felt a twinge of guilt. She really should have made her presence known earlier when she'd heard Rose and Esme talking, but she'd been so cozily tucked away in the hallway alcove, half-asleep with her book.

"What did you hear?"

She had his full attention. Whatever about the plant stand had bothered him, it seemed to have passed. "I overheard Rose and your mother talking about . . . children. About the children Rose feels she'll need to have soon . . . the ones she doesn't think she's ready for."

"I see."

Did he?

"Since I don't know what I'm going to do yet, wouldn't it make sense for her to . . . wait? I'm not even sure what I'm really talking about, but I know you said that families have children together. If she's not ready—"

Edward laid his hand gently on her forearm. "You aren't responsible for Rose's choices, Bella. Or Jasper's or Emmett's or Alice's. They'll make their own."

Bella drew her brows together. "It really didn't sound like that, Edward. She was very upset—"

"It isn't unusual for families to have these conversations. It's better to have them rather than let feelings fester. I will acknowledge that this will be doubly difficult for Rose, given that she and Emmett have been married the longest. Normally, they'd have been the first to have a child. And while it isn't unheard of for a family to have children so early in a marriage, it isn't so common anymore. Most couples prefer to wait some time before mating. But I cannot stress enough that the choice to have children is theirs."

A choice spurred by Bella's circumstances.

"In any case, I'm sorry you overheard that. It was insensitive of her, given your predicament."

Bella hadn't considered that angle and did now. Edward was right, so why was she feeling so guilty? She hadn't been a willing participant in any of what had happened to her.

"Your empathy is admirable, Bella, but I think you should save some for yourself."

"Oh, I think I've had plenty, to the point of pity."

Edward shook his head. "Pity is entirely different from empathy. One comes from love, the other, despair."

She sighed.

"Bella, self-pitying is definitely not a trait I would ascribe to you, given the obstacles you have faced—and overcome—since you arrived here. Mostly, I think you've just been frustrated." A knowing smile. "You're very demanding of yourself."

"Yes, I am."

"Why is that?"

She glanced at him. "Are we back to the people-pleasing conversation?"

"Are we?"

She shrugged. "I suppose so. You can't please a ghost, can you?"

"No, you cannot." He squeezed her hand.

"We're still out of everyone's hearing range?"

Edward nodded.

"Tell me if my question is inappropriate, okay?"

"I will."

"Why are things so difficult between you and Jasper?"

Edward chuckled. "So we are back to our conversation about pleasing people." He sighed and looked down for a moment. "When our father died, Jasper stopped talking. Not entirely, but enough to know he'd been changed. I remember him as a happy older brother. He would always play with me, have time for me. But after . . . he became morose. We were all affected, but Jasper was the most altered. And where I followed every breadcrumb to do with my father that I could find, Jasper went out of his way to avoid them."

If Edward turned toward his father's memory, and Jasper away—she winced internally, imagining the acrimony it must have created. "That must have been really difficult."

"It was." He spoke softly. "We each found our paths. Rose followed my mother's example, I my father's, and Jasper . . . he looked to those who quarreled with my father's work and with the women's movement which precipitated it."

"Ah." Difficult was a pale descriptor. It was a wonder to Bella the brothers spoke at all . . .

"Of course," he added quickly, "his views have moderated with time, as have mine." Despite this assurance, she watched his smile disappear.

Maybe not the best topic to pursue, then.

"Should we, um, head back? Before they think we're up to no good?"

Edward turned and looked back at the oddly shaped plant stand. "It's hardly us that are up to no good, but yes, we should. I think the music will be over soon."

They walked slowly back through the house, Edward quietly pointing out some of its unique features—the heavy metal bootjack by the foyer and the finely paneled tack room adjacent to it. "The Hatzis family were once the marshalls for the area, so their tack was kept close to the door, along with their rifles." Edward ran a hand down the jamb, which was nicked by what looked like—

"Are those bullet holes?" Bella asked.

"Dragon pepper," Stolos said, coming round the corner. He grinned at Edward. "I forget which ancestor is responsible, but I do know that every female relation has warned every man in possession of a training rifle not to repeat it."

"Your great-great uncle, if memory serves," Edward murmured. He flashed a look of amusement at Stolos.

"How're your dragons?" Stolos asked Edward, though he stared at Bella, the steady gaze making her uncomfortable.

"Well, the new brood on my return was a surprise." Edward then added more details, the finer points of which were lost on Bella. Edward seemed at ease with Stolos, though, laughing at something to do with a dragon and being dis-something—ah, dismounted. Her language skills were coming along, but conversations with subject-specific terminology were still tricky. Pretending to follow along with the men's discussion, she studied Stolos, whose arm was no longer in a sling. She'd assumed he'd broken it, and perhaps he had, but if it was already healed—she marveled again at what the Aristean tardigrades could do. She'd seen them at work when she'd suffered a tiny cut. It had only been a few days before the injury was healed and gone.

Mrs. Hatzis emerged from the parlor. "Dragon talk? Is this the way I raised you? And Edward, this is no way to begin an engagement, boring your intended." She clucked her tongue.

Stolos shook his head. "I apologize, Miss Swan. This can't be very interesting for you."

Catching Edward's chagrined look, Bella smiled, shaking her head. "It's alright."

"Dinner is ready. Let's round the table." Mrs. Hatzis gestured to the opposite side of the hall, where the other guests were now heading.

Stolos nodded to Edward and Bella and followed the others into the dining room.

Mrs. Hatzis stepped closer to Edward and Bella, lowering her voice. "Edward, it occurred to me that you'll need house room until the wedding. Do you have that in place?"

"Not yet." Edward brushed his hand lightly against Bella's back, guiding her towards the door.

"Please know you're welcome here with us. I'm sure Stolos would especially welcome your company." She smiled at Edward, adding quietly. "We will keep your news to ourselves, should you wish to return home tonight."

"Both offers are very kind, Mrs. Hatzis. I'd be most appreciative of the first, but I wouldn't wish to risk thashetheme, present circumstances considered."

Thashetheme. Gossip. Bella struggled to recall the story behind the term.

Mrs. Hatzis nodded. "I don't blame you." Reaching the dining room, she beckoned over one of the men standing at attention around the oval room. "Please get the northern guest room ready for Mr. Cullen."

Dinner with the Hatzis was much like dinner with the Cullens, except for the frequent comings and goings of servants who offered dishes and then retreated again; none of them joined the family at table.

Bella paid attention to the conversation, the first part of which was carried by Esme and Mrs. Hatzis as they discussed her and Edward's marriage preparations. If anyone wondered at the rushed nature of it, they didn't comment, which both surprised and relieved her. When the second course arrived, the wedding conversation continued between the women, while the men talked about the early opening of the glykoblay pods, the difficulties with procuring dragon feed, and the increasing raids on neighboring northern towns.

"Have you heard the latest from Pilkonis and Mr. Benadin?" Mr. Hatzis asked Emmett.

"No. Is something amiss?"

"Well, when aren't things amiss with the Benadins?" Mr. Hatzis chuckled to himself.

Watching Emmett, Bella thought his smile was too polite, his expression guarded.

The wedding discussion faded out as Esme turned her attention to Mr. Hatzis.

"On top of old Benadin waving off our patrols, he's put the Kaethe listis on notice." Mr. Hatzis paused, eyeing the table and making sure he had everyone's attention. "He's refused them their share."

Bella was aware of the Kaethe and their raids, having seen her new brothers going out to patrol for them, but 'Listis' was a new term to her.

"Their share?" Edward asked. "What share?"

"You've been away some time, brother." Jasper picked up his drink, eyeing Edward.

There was a jab in the words, which Bella watched Edward ignore. "What have the raiders been demanding? Beyond what they can take?"

Mr. Hatzis shook his head. "Not just what they can carry anymore. That ended years ago, I suppose just after you left. They promise to warn off the other listis, but their price is steep—a tenth of a farm's production."

"Protection," Esme mumbled, snorting. "The listis and the Kaethe are thieves and thugs, pure and simple."

"You've no argument from me, Matriarch," Mr. Hatzis said, "though I'd say the Kaethe are worse than the other listis."

Bella watched her fellow diners nod in agreement.

"And families are complying with the Kaethe's demands?" Edward asked.

Emmett nodded. "Not initially, but the cost of resistance was . . . steep."

Edward frowned. "Then refusing them would be a provocation."

"Yes, well, the senior Benadin has never been known for his sense," Mr. Hatzis said, then frowned. "I'm sorry, Miss Swan, this must be difficult for you to follow, being new to the area."

Bella smiled politely, not certain if it would be rude to point out that she had the general gist of things. She caught sight of Edward giving Mr. Hatzis a hard stare.

"My intended is quite capable of grasping the nature of these affairs." Edward's tone was polite, but the rebuke in his words was clear.

A brief and awkward silence ensued. At the other end of the table, Bella thought she saw Jasper shake his head.

"Of course," Mr. Hatzis said, swallowing noticeably and nodding in Bella's direction. "Well, we've always had northerners straying into our territories. Some beggars, some thieves, a few traders, the odd Sherooz. Then it was more thieves than beggars and traders, and the troublemakers would purloin what they could carry—mostly food, sometimes a bolt of cloth—"

"Or your good jacket off the drying line." Mrs. Hatzis clucked, shaking her head.

Mr. Hatzis chuckled. "Yes, my clothes." He sighed. "Then they began taking livestock."

Emmett nodded. "We lost a third of our poultry one year."

There were sympathetic murmurs around the table.

"Even with regular patrols, they always find their way in. In the last few years, though, the Kaethe have circumvented our militia. Desperation will serve where intelligence fails, I suppose. Since you've been gone, Mr. Cullen, they've even made claims on southern towns, saying our neighbors must pay them for protection. Your family hasn't succumbed to that business, have they, Mr. Makris? They're on the southern end of things and well-covered by the patrols."

Emmett stared at the tablecloth. Rose shifted in her seat.

Jasper cleared his throat. "You mentioned Mr. Benadin refusing to pay the Kaethe, Mr. Hatzis?"

"Yes. They're so isolated, though, on that spit of land. Quite vulnerable. It's insanity for them to refuse. Not that they've ever talked much sense." He laughed, and his wife joined him.

Bella noticed that no one else did, even Jasper looking uneasy as he glanced away.

"I'm sorry, Miss Swan," Mr. Hatzis said. "You won't know that Mr. Benadin lacks the ability to speak, and some of his family to hear. Sadly, their intelligence hasn't risen to compensate for either deficit."

Bella's appetite disappeared, and she suddenly understood Esme's reluctance to accept the Hatzis's invitation for tonight.

Alice's words came back to her: Not everyone here is so accepting of the new thinking—the women's movement.

Bella thought of the little boy and his family in the market. Maybe it hadn't been just her ungloved and human hands that had spooked them. There was enough shame in being different. She knew that well enough.

"I haven't heard word of any new appeals to the northern emissary," Jasper said.

"Of course not. What good would they do?" Mr. Hatzis sipped his water. "They've never bothered to police their own rejects. Why would that change now?"

"Listis are one thing. The Kaethe are another," Stolos said softly. "Perhaps the emissary will think differently, knowing there's an armed militia sitting on their doorstep."

Jasper lifted a dubious eyebrow.

"I'll see if my family can sway the Benadins on their course," Emmett said. He looked to Esme. "I'll send word tomorrow, if we can spare someone?"

"We can," Esme said. She sounded worried.

"And what words do you hope to have with the man?" Mr. Hatzis asked, the humor back in his voice. "With a man who can't hear?"

He was also deaf? Bella thought again of the family at the market.

The tension at the table was rising. Bella could feel it in the way the Cullens were avoiding eye contact with their hosts.

"Did you have a chance to see the renovated conservatory, Edward?" Stolos asked. "I wondered if you'd take Miss Swan to tour it."

"We did."

"We're very proud of the work there." Mr. Hatzis smiled. "Years of old junk repurposed. The Matriarchs would be proud of our thriftiness."

Bella thought of Edward's reaction in the conservatory. She doubted Esme would be proud, if Edward's expression had been anything to go by.

"My mother has been kind enough to raise the Solana so I can use it when training our new flock." Stolos seemed eager to draw the conversation towards more neutral topics. Had he picked up on the tension in the room? "It works well at subduing the most feral."

"Ah," Edward said, looking a little relieved. "I'd wondered about its addition." He mentioned some of the other plants he'd seen, the names rattled off so quickly that Bella didn't catch them.

"Really?" Rose asked. "Where on earth did you find Sidero grass?"

Mr. Hatzis patted Stolos on the back. "He's turned into a fine gardener and trader, this one. He's come home with some excellent finds from the market, haven't you?"

Stolos looked like he might blush, if he could have. "I had good teachers. In any case, I'm just grateful we've managed to keep it alive. It's very delicate. The first seedlings all bolted, and it was only after two died that we finally managed to get it to take in pots—it has to be companion planted with spinaki to thrive in the south."

The conversation moved to matters agricultural and horticultural, staying there until the party had moved back to the parlor, where the young woman returned with glasses of Sikaru.

It smelled sour to Bella, and she took tiny polite sips, allowing herself to lean back into the tall cushioned chair back, trying to keep her corset from digging into her ribs. Edward sat to her right, with Stolos next to him.

After Stolos attempted to include Bella in the conversation on several topics, it became clear that they had very few interests in common.

"I get the feeling you two want to catch up," she said to Stolos and Edward.

Both men tilted their heads at her.

"Uh, I mean, I can see you haven't seen each other for some time and want to talk about what you've missed."

God, I've got to learn some idioms.

"Ah, we do have some knots to make, don't we?" Stolos said to Edward, grinning.

Bingo. Bella tucked away the phrase for another day.

"How does the solana work?" Edward asked his friend.

Bella sank further back into the chair, wiggling her bum to get into just the right position. She was in a slightly shadowed corner of the room, and when her eyelids blinked shut, she didn't make the effort to open them again. She let the various conversations wash over her, only marginally interested in the talk of taming and training dragons or in how many pots of dye could be coaxed from the glycobay this year.

When the tone in Edward's voice shifted, she opened her eyes to slits and listened, not moving but pretending to admire the wallpaper. In her peripheral vision, she watched the two men talk.

"I'm as good a shot as my great–uncle was, Edward." Stolos gave a single, half-hearted chuckle. "But there are other men who can ride and defend, if need be."

Edward gave a thoughtful hum. "And our other neighbors?"

"Similarly concerned."

There was a pause.

"And there's been talk." Stolos's voice was low.

"Of?"

"Someone providing the northerners with information."

Edward made a derisive sound. "Careless thashetheme. There was always such talk, Stolos. As much of that as spies and the Theristis—"

"Not like this." She heard Stolos sip at his sikaru. "And there's enough of it to worry me. Think about it. All it would take was one person with enough knowledge of enough houses. Just think about that one person could do. The damage. Knowing where a household keeps its rifles, its extra stock, the precise location of feed stores—so much damage."

Bella gave up pretending not to listen and looked to Edward.

"Which is why we build the bonds we do." he said. "There are greater threads linking us together than the ones between parents, siblings—even mates."

Stolos nodded, letting out a long, slow breath. "I know. Still." He gave an uneasy smile. "I doubt I shall be so fortunate as to enjoy the latter, but I understand your argument."

"Then don't point your feet the wrong way with your words." Edward elbowed Stolos and they both gave low laughs.

Across the room, Esme stood. "I'm afraid the hour grows too late for us, Arla." She thanked the Hatzis for their hospitality, and others slowly began to stand, Bella among them. She was grateful to feel Edward's hand at her elbow as the room and then she wobbled.

He'd been paying attention to her even while in conversation with others—still a surprise for her. She smiled her thanks at him, catching the strangest expression on Stolos' face. It was friendship, pride, and . . . envy all together, and the rawness of it made her breath catch.

"I will see you tomorrow," Edward said to Bella as he helped her into the wagon. He turned to join Stolos on the Hatzis' large porch, the two of them waving the Cullens off as Jasper urged the Alogo forward.

Bella found herself mulling over Stolos's expression long after they pulled away from the brightly lit house, the warm beacon disappearing into the night as they made their way home.