Chapter 147: Oh, Maverick. She’s Beautiful.

THREE HOURS PRIOR — VAELSTROM MANOR

The door opened before Maverick knocked.

A woman with grey hair pulled into a bun stood in the frame, her face splitting into a smile that reorganized every line and wrinkle into something radiant. She pulled Maverick into a hug that was equal parts family and military general.

"It’s been too long, Maverick."

"It has, Aunt Freya."

She released him and her eyes found Maria. The smile deepened.

"Last time I saw you, you were in diapers." She cupped Maria’s face with both hands, tilting it gently, studying her features like a painting she’d been waiting to see in person. "You look identical to your mother. It’s uncanny."

Maria’s eyes immediately started filling. She blinked through it fast, refusing to cry twice in one day. "I didn’t realize I had family in Thunderfang. I am so excited to meet you." She launched into a hug that Freya accepted with a laugh and the structural preparedness of someone who had anticipated the trajectory.

Then Freya turned to Nova. The beam on her face intensified by a full degree, which for a woman already radiating warmth was the equivalent of a second sun rising. She looked at Maverick.

"Is this her?"

Maverick gave a single nod.

"Oh, Maverick." Freya’s hands found Nova’s shoulders before Nova could dip or speak or do any of the things her training had loaded as a response to meeting an elder. "The rumors said she was beautiful. For once, the rumors were correct."

Nova’s face heated so fast the blush could have powered a small generator. Her mouth opened to respond but Freya had already pulled her into a hug like she had already decided Nova belonged here.

"Come in, come in. I made tea."

The interior was the kind of warm that seeps into your bones and convinces your body that cold was a rumor. Dark wood. Soft lighting from geo-thermal sconces. A fireplace large enough to stand in, blazing with proper amber flame that crackled and popped and behaved the way fire was supposed to behave, which was a refreshing change from Nova’s recent relationship with the element.

Freya poured tea from a ceramic pot into cups that looked older than the manor. The liquid was golden and smelled like honey and pine. She placed one in front of each of them like this was the standard procedure for every important conversation that had happened in this manor.

"Thank you, Elder Vaelstrom," Nova said softly, accepting hers with both hands.

Freya waved her hand like the title was a fly she had been swatting for years. "Please. Call me Freya."

"We are going to be visiting frequently. Expect us. Without warning. That’s how we do it in Emberclaw," Maria said.

Freya gave her a warm smile. "You are welcome to come anytime."

A door opened from the far corridor and a man entered. Grey hair, swept back. An attractive face with the kind of features that refused to commit to a decade, the bone structure carrying the years without apologizing for them. He moved with the unhurried confidence of someone who had been important for so long that rushing was beneath him.

"This is my husband," Freya said, gesturing. "He grew up with your grandfather."

The man crossed the room and clapped Maverick on the back, pulling him into a handshake that turned into a half-hug. "It’s been too long, son. Far too long. Your grandfather would have had my hide for letting it go this many years."

Then his eyes found Maria and his face cracked into something warm and amused.

"I haven’t seen you since you were in diapers."

Maria laughed because it was the exact same line Freya had used and the delivery was identical and Nova could absolutely see how these two people were related to Maria and Maverick. The man pulled Maria into a hug that she returned with enthusiasm.

Then he spotted Nova. "And you must be Nova."

"Yes, Elder—"

"Call me Dante." He looked at Maverick and tipped his chin at her. "You found a polite one."

Nova’s face heated again, the second blush arriving before the first had fully resolved, creating a layered effect that was going to become permanent if people kept complimenting her.

Maria claimed the high-backed chair nearest to Freya and the fire, tucking her legs beneath her like she’d been sitting there for years.

Maverick’s hand found the small of Nova’s back and guided her to a loveseat. To her surprise, he sat next to her on it. Not across the room. Not in a separate chair. Beside her. Close enough that his thigh pressed against hers and neither of them moved to correct it.

Dante lowered himself into the chair across from them. The fire was blazing and the room was cozy in a way that Nova hadn’t realized how much she would appreciate until now.

Maverick reached across Nova, arm passing over her body, and pulled the cushion from the far side. He tucked it behind her bad shoulder, angled it against the armrest so she could rest her arm on it. It took her a moment to understand that he had done it so she could rest her arm on it without it hurting.

"Thank you," she managed, glancing up at him.

He was already looking at her, their faces inches apart, close enough that she could count the gold flecks in his eyes, which she was not going to do.

"You’re welcome, Nova."

Nova tore her gaze away from him first.

Derek was in a coma. That fact sat in her chest like a shadow she couldn’t outrun. He was alone in a hospital room she had been arrested for trying to enter, and she was sitting on a loveseat with a man who smelled nice and made her pulse do things that felt like treason. She didn’t know how to hold both feelings at the same time, but her chest was doing it anyway.