“I adore you.” Hope stepped up to her, grabbed the broom, and tossed it aside. “Do you want to dance? Gale might need encouragement to keep up that balancing act of hers.”
“Oooh, you want a dragged out, lovey-dovey ballad?” Gale hummed a note, higher and higher, then she strummed the intro to an elven ballad about the old Lho Allanar, the original city, and its demise.
“She’ll win the bet.” Venviel grabbed Hope’s right hand, intertwined their fingers, and laid her other arm around her wife’s waist. “I have no doubt.”
“And why’s that?” Hope asked, even as Gale played and sang her heart out in the background. She should be too young, too inexperienced, to sing with the depth, the sorrow, she did, but Gale must have inherited a certain demonic power from Hope.
“She takes after me.” Venviel pressed their bodies together, kissed Hope, and inhaled her vanilla scent. “I would have passed out before I’d lost such an easy bet.”
“Are you suggesting I make it harder on her?”
“Not necessary,” Gale murmured through the ballad.
Venviel lead Hope around the tables in an intimate dance. Corym had taught her how to dance, but she’d had to teach Hope herself after they’d left Lho Allanar, since the temple hadn’t thought of it as a required skill for disciples or inquisitors. Nonetheless, Hope had become an excellent dancer over the years.
Furore had claimed Hope wouldn’t belong anywhere, with anyone, unless she had her own people, but Venviel had proved her wrong. She’d swear it high and low. Every time she watched Hope fawn over their children, slumber next to her in bed, or care for a newcomer in the village, Venviel assured herself that she’d built a real home for someone who’d grown up without a family. They’d created it together, but how else could she have done it? Hope’s input would always be vital.
During their worst arguments, during the hard times, a part of her may have regretted how she’d not had more of an influence on society in Lho Allanar than as a legend, but she would make the same choice again.
She wouldn’t waste five years in the tunnels. She’d mourn her parents, forgive the temple, and do everything in her power to find Hope sooner. They could have done more good together from the start. Love had convinced her to renounce revenge.
“You’re such an alluring creature.” Hope groped her butt.
“Am I attractive enough for a fourth child?” Venviel returned the favour by sliding her hand up under Hope’s apron.
“Wouldn’t you—“
The ballad came to an abrupt end when Gale fell off the chair with a crash and reminded them of how they were not alone, even if it was difficult to remember anyone else when they stood so close together.
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Never Enough Page 14
