"Why ever not?" Micah grumbled. He paced at one of the downstairs windows, one of eight. The building's octagonal design deemed the number so. It was a two-story building, constructed of heavy stone, and plastered and whitewashed inside and out to smooth perfection. Downstairs held the entryway, a sitting room, and a cozy nook to eat, while the upstairs was a splendid combination of living quarters, bed chamber, and master bath.

I tried for a soothing tone. "They will fly her in through the upper balcony, and then you can go see her," I said, excluding myself. Up until this point, my presence had been needed. Now that she was mended, I was no longer required.

Micah had been more than tolerant with me, and I didn't want to press my luck. Even now, he was back to his moody self. His purple black eyes of earlier, when he first arrived at the estate, returned to him. He turned that turbulent gaze upon me, where I leaned on an inner wall with my arms crossed. A flicker of light, like lightning threatening, danced within each iris. I was beginning to recognize this look of his as angry contemplation. The way he seemed to be directing those thoughts my way made me think he was unhappy with me. But what had I done?

My own anger stirred. Like a serpent rising from murky depths, a bitterness arose to curl around the thoughts of all that I had done this night. Saved his charge. Invited him back to my estate, my home, to finish the task of mending her. And now he looked upon me with what? Disdain? Perhaps jealousy, for all I owned and all that I was? None of it has done me any good anyway. Not in the long run. With my past loves dead or fading to death. And the recent death of my mother.

I struggled against the urge to look away first from the staring contest we were engaged in. I fought it, and I almost won. The depression-laced rage for Mom's murder that possessed me from time to time rode the back of the emerged serpent. It laid waste to my patience with Micah, that tolerance already riddled with so many holes.

For him to have offered me the blessed chance at Aurora's intimacy, the power pull with set limitations, only to look upon me now with disdain. It made no sense! Was he testing me?

I looked away first, and I didn't count it as losing or flinching. I averted my gaze so he wouldn't see the contempt in it that wasn't for him. Not really. He didn't warrant this much ire.

"You beat me back to the estate." Micah was back to gazing out the window when his words drew my attention to him once more. "You got here first."

"I did," I answered, and briefly opened my mouth wide, almost akin to a yawn, to flex my jaw. I'd been clenching so hard that the stretching motion pained me clear up through my skull, even as I broke apart the trace amount of ice that had formed between my teeth. I was beginning to get a migraine.

"You took the river."

"Sure did." And why do you seem so upset by this?

"Could you transport her as such?"

This question caught me off guard. He was staring at me again, as if willing me to answer truthfully. Honesty was important.

Could I, with just a touch and a thought, take another person along underwater with me? He granted me a moment to think upon this.

"With other water devvis, yes, I possess this ability. With a touch, I make liquefaction occur; force it, if I must. I can then marry them to myself, while also in second form, and transport us wherever the streams or groundwater allows."

He repeated, "Can you do it with Aurora?"

"I do not believe so. Not in her current state." With my lips closed, I ran my tongue about my mouth to gather any leftover ice shards, swallowing them down before I continued. "As it stands, her body composition is much too dense. Just as she cannot cross into the astral plane, so it is she cannot be transported via second form. She has no second form."

"That's true. She doesn't," he confirmed. "Even so, you have bested me twice this night."

His words thawed me. They saw my frozen state being undone, my arms going uncrossed. I slumped a little where I leaned and tried to think through the importance of this admittance. A memory was triggered. More words. Aurora's words. To "best Micah" was to prove myself worthy of him, of her.

And this was how he reacted, moody and domineering. Although, it wasn't that much of a departure of how he normally related to me.

"How?" I almost demanded, knowing the expression on my face was unkind. "How have I been better than you?"

"Does it matter?!" he exploded back. He left the window to stalk up to me. The storm was gone from his eyes as we stared at one another again. His gaze had reverted to its solidly beheld state, an immobile amethyst set around dark middles. Lips parted, he nearly panted with the way his chest rapidly rose and fell, shoulders moving with the same rhythm. "You saved her when I couldn't. You healed her completely before she awoke to the agonizing pain of it." In a softer, though no less emphatic tone, "You helped me when I needed it the most...I am not alone in my mission to make her safe, keep her happy."

He took a deep breath, held it, then let it out. Face to face with me, we were only inches apart. His exhale held in it the sharp scent of electricity, his stolen power having regenerated some.

"She will be happy," his voice, calmer now, "with you being around more. If I don't seem thrilled about it, well, truth be told I'm not, and don't expect to be for a while. I'm not used to sharing."

"You don't want to share her," I said slowly when a thought occurred to me, "or, you are uncertain of how to?"

Whatever Micah was going to snap back in response seemed to fizzle out. He was taken aback by my question. With a slight head tilt, he appeared to be thinking it over. I almost added that it was entirely possible to learn how to share. Freely partaking in the intimate, pleasurable company of one another could be great fun for all parties involved. But then we both turned our attention to the villa windows. The wind females were bringing her.

Out of the darkness they emerged as a swirl of washed out color lit brightly by the security lights. The sum of the spectacle was a giant puff of airborne cloth all pressed together to keep steady a weighty center. It wasn't that Aurora weighed much, the ones carrying her were so much less. It would take the cooperation of all five wind devvis to even lift her.

The two of us turned toward her approach, instinct letting us know she was drawing near, as the new sun summons forth the dew to arise from tall grasses to make haste to a higher purpose.

Our sun was being flown through balcony doors to be placed in the room above, where preparations were being made to receive us. And I had already decided not to go.

A stab to the heart. Pain at the realization.

And Micah had already gone. Her first had vanished from before me, and I her second, just stood there and debated.

I should go. I needed to check on her anyway, see how well she was mended. I would arrive second, but I would arrive.

And I will always be in the number two position if I do nothing to challenge it. I kept my footsteps silent as I went to the top floor via the staircase, the rising expanse of it opening into yet another octagonal space that boasted a high, domed ceiling. Many decorative pillars rose to touch the lofty ceiling. The area was lit by lights recessed into the walls at head level. These were on and set to low illumination, so as not to pain her tired eyes. It left the room in a hazy glow. The winds had placed her on the bed and gone.

And there Micah was, already on the bed, tucked in snuggly at her one side. She had another side, of course, and it was currently vacant, as if awaiting me.

I won't do anything to poke at it. Playing second fiddle to Micah's first, I'll leave things as they are, I decided while standing in the stairwell, unmoving. If this was what was being offered now, I could be content with it. In fact, I might not ever challenge it unless he provoked me.

They were whispering. She giggled, and he kissed her forehead.

Taking a breath, I strode forward when she called out to me. The marble floor was cold and smooth beneath my feet. I approached the bed to find her laid out like someone had covered her body in a spread of pale flower petals. It took some blinking to focus enough to see the petals become the ruffled fabric the winds had wrapped her in. When asked if they needed clothes for her, Winnie responded that they had it covered. Apparently they used one of the long, flowing garments they themselves wore. Probably the finest they had.

The bed itself was a round design, covered in a blue silk comforter, specially made. The pillows had been fluffed near the top, and she had been placed among them.

"Alex," she repeated, this time extending her hand. She wanted me on the bed with them.

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