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Percy went to Vex that morning with his notebook in hand and a promise to fulfill.
She was eating breakfast downstairs, caught in a warm beam of sunlight, while Trinket at her feet was contentedly munching on his own meal. The bear looked up before she did. Alerted by the motion but unconcerned, Vex swiveled her head around. “Percy,” she said.
He stopped across the table, keeping the heavy wooden structure between himself and the bear—and more to the point, between himself and Vex. He’d been doing a lot of that the last few days: keeping a polite and careful distance. He smiled, though, hoping for the best.
“The fruit’s delicious,” she went on, holding out a peach from the bowl. “You should have some.”
He stared at it, considered it, hesitated. “Maybe later. Thank you.” He spread out his drawings instead. “I brought you something, actually.”
Vex brightened as soon as she saw the display. She swallowed hastily, set the food aside, and wiped her hands before reaching out to the papers. “These sketches—they’re for the broom?”
He nodded. “I’ve been working on the modifications. These are just the diagrams I began with, of course, but I thought I’d walk you through these before we hook up the new components—“
She was tracing over the lines when he said it, but the last few words made her ears prick and her chin lift. “You’ve built them already?”
“Yes. Last night. I—“ Couldn’t sleep, he thought. Again. “Felt inspired, I suppose.”
“Well, as lovely as these are, why wait? Show me!”
She beamed, and before Percy had even absorbed the whole of it—such open enthusiasm, such vitality—she’d plucked the broom up from where Trinket was guarding it, scratched her beloved bear behind the ears and whispered to him to stay, and headed to the door. All Percy could do was scoop up the papers and follow her down the hall.
The room he’d adopted as his workshop was a huge, high-ceilinged space, and he still wondered what it was meant for—although asking Scanlan seemed a rabbit hole of an enterprise, so he’d let that part go. The two long tables were covered now with equipment, materials, and the additions he’d made for Vex’s broom the night before. She stepped lightly up to it all, touching it the same way she’d touched the diagrams: almost not quite believing, but ecstatic that it was real.
For his own part, no matter how much he understood the feeling, he kept himself as matter-of-fact as possible—and kept his hands to himself—as he walked her through the modifications. The seat, the stabilizers, and the foot rests could all attach with small clasps and anchors, all designed to impact the broom as little as possible. He was still concerned about compromising the structure or the charms that made it work. But Vex, apart from a few small questions, only nodded and urged him on. “Sounds excellent,” she said at the end. “Here. Do your magic.”
She held the broom up to him, smiling like there was absolutely no irony to those last few words. He swallowed his own knowledge of it, carefully clasped the broom, and set to work. Within moments—although not so quickly that she didn’t start anxiously tapping one foot and biting at a nail—he had the attachments ready to go. It almost felt too easy, in fact, and despite Vex’s impatience, he ran one more check to be certain things were secure.
“Is that it?” she asked, prompting him. Percy wiggled one of the stabilizers, finding nothing awry. Finally he took a breath and nodded.
“That should be it,” he confirmed, standing slowly and offering the broom to her again. “Your turn.”
Vex took it back, her hands positioned almost as carefully as his had been. But he swore he felt the brush of her fingers before she pulled away and danced into position across the room.
“All right,” she said, swinging one leg over. “Let’s see how this goes…”
The broom seemed to be just as eager as Vex was, because it lifted a few inches without prompting. The motion tipped Vex slightly off-balance. She caught her breath and lunged to grasp the handle again, rocking unsteadily in midair. Percy raised a hand, trying to make a suggestion, but she was already muttering to herself and trying to re-adjust.
“Still a stubborn thing, aren’t you?” she said under her breath, still leaning forward a bit too far. “Hold still, you—"
Percy made a face and stepped forward. “Careful, that’s—here, let me. Settle your weight there, like so…”
Without thinking about it, his hands dropped to her hips, helping situate Vex upon the seat. She wriggled into place, waiting there as the broom stabilized. Then she cast a look at him over one shoulder. For a moment he didn’t identify the reason. Then his gaze dropped to his own hands, cupped gently now around her.
His face colored instantly. Vex’s lips twitched into a smile.
“Why, Percy,” she said. “If I’d known this would be your approach, I would have asked for riding lessons long ago.”
He coughed suddenly, letting go and moving back in a rush. Vex stayed where she was, still balanced atop the hovering broom with her toes just brushing the floor. Her dark hair tumbled fetchingly over one shoulder. “I’m, ah,” he said, reaching hurriedly for words. “My apologies, Vex’ahlia. That was…forward.”
“Oh, darling. There’s no need to get formal on me. I was only teasing.”
“‘Flirting’ is the word I believe you’re looking for.”
“Well, yes. Six in one, really. But…does it bother you?” She frowned when he didn’t have a ready answer. “I’ll stop if it does, but I thought sometimes before that you might not mind…?”
Vex, unsurprisingly, had hit the mark with unerring precision, although perhaps not in the way that she’d planned. Percy sighed, rubbing one hand across his forehead. “That’s the crux of it, really.”
“What is?”
“Before.”
Her frown went deeper. “Percy, if this is still about—“
The sarcophagus. My mistake. You…falling. Percy squared his shoulders even as he turned aside. “With the current state of things, it seems…unwise,” he said, coming at it all angled. “Especially in light of your brother still being ready to take my head off—“
“Vax isn’t here, you might have noticed.”
“—and regardless of that, I’m…” He looked at her again, even knowing his expression was betraying him. “I think I’ve proven more than well enough that me rushing into things is only going to get you hurt.”
The broom lowered enough that Vex’s feet planted on the ground. “Percy.”
He shook his head, retreating to safer ground. “I’m here to help you as best I can, and to do this safely. And I do want to help you. Very much.” He smiled faintly. “I’ve known for a long time how much you’ve wanted to fly.”
Her voice went soft. ‘You always do pay attention.”
“Just not always to the right things, I’m afraid.”
She glanced down. So did he, returning to the table and plucking up a few of his instruments, mostly to have something to do with his hands. It was quiet for a little while. When he finally turned back to her, Vex had gone up on tiptoes again, experimentally shifting her weight.
She so clearly wanted to soar. In the end, that made his decision for him. No matter what he feared, he wasn’t about to be the one to hold her down.
Percy exchanged the tools he was holding for something else upon the table. When he went to offer it to Vex, she took it curiously. “What is it?” she asked, but the answer was soon clear: a pair of goggles.
“Eye protection’s useful at speed,” he said. He knew he was stating the obvious, but he had to say something. “Necessary in many conditions.”
Vex nodded, looking a little distracted. She studied the lenses and ran her fingers along the straps. Then she hooked them on, settling the lenses on her forehead. At the end, she made a little flourish. “How do I look?”
Percy almost answered, but he held himself back. Honesty felt too vulnerable, and there were some moments ill-suited even for a clever tongue. In lieu of that, he simply smiled, and watched her return it brilliantly.
“Go on,” he said, bracing himself. “I want to see you try it.”
Vex nodded, but she held herself back, too. Her head tilted. “Percy, I…”
“What is it?”
They were still close enough for her to reach up to him. “Just…do try to be gentler with yourself,” she said, lightly touching his cheek. He quivered with sudden tension. “There’s no sense in dwelling on fault.”
“Vex, I—“
“And don’t pull yourself away.” Her voice went even softer. “We’re all better when we’re not alone.”
Percy, seeing no guile in her expression, and most of all no blame, felt himself lean almost helplessly into the touch. He swallowed hard. Then he reached up to take her hand, drawing it down between them.
This time, after a moment’s thought and a swifter impulse, he kissed the back of her hand.
The gesture was instinctive, really, and he didn’t let himself linger past the edge of propriety. But the softness of it, the way his fingers uncurled almost of their own accord to brush the sensitive skin of her inner wrist…those things were admittedly rather less chivalrous. When he let her go, her lips were slightly parted, and the light in her eyes was unmistakable.
He felt his heart beat a little bit faster.
“Pity there isn’t room on this broom for two,” she said, her tone subtly suggestive.
“I…could still work on that.”
“Or maybe I’ll have to help you steal that airship you want sometime. Seems a fair trade.”
Something about the warmth in her voice brought out the depth in his. “Please.”
Vex smiled again, smirked really, then kicked back, just out of his reach. She tugged the goggles down as she did. “First off, though? Test flight.”
Before he could reply, she angled the broom upward again. Percy watched her brace herself—and perhaps look his way once more, although behind the glass it was difficult to say—before she whispered the control phrase. The spell took effect with a tingling rush of air, propelling her up with enough speed that she let out a startled but delighted laugh. At that, Percy stood back, forgetting even to take notes on the results. He just held his breath and held on to the fragile joy of it as he watched Vex fly.
And that was what he’d remember for long, long afterward: that sound, and the promise it held, and the hope despite it all of better things to come.