Chapter 187: Windowlight and Footwork

The snow hadn’t stopped. It came in soft, unhurried waves that blanketed the compound, muffling the world beneath its quiet weight.

It was nighttime already. Everyone had settled in their homes, next to the hearth to warm them up. The faint glow from torches along the pathways shimmered against the white, their flames bending with the occasional breeze.

Orion stood by his window, one hand braced against the frame. From where he stood, he could see inside Sophia’s home.

The silhouette moving inside was hers; he’d recognize that gait anywhere now. The way she paused between steps, as though caught mid-thought, before resuming her pace. He could tell when she reached for something, could guess when she bent over the table or turned a page. She was reading when she was supposed to be in his home.

He watched her for longer than he should have, the cold from the glass slowly creeping into his skin.

"Why isn’t she coming?" Orion muttered.

Noctis scoffed then. *You do realize she said she’d think about coming over right?*

"That means she’s supposed to come." Orion told him.

*She found out that the silhouette in your room had not been yours and that you very well planned it because of her.* Noctis pointed out.

"You think she’s not going to come because of that?" Orion asked.

*I have no idea. Maybe we should wait?*

"I doubt I can do that."

Orion glanced back through the window again. Sophia was sitting now, her cloak draped over the back of her chair. Her hair caught the flicker of the candle light as she leaned forward.

He exhaled. If Sophia wasn’t going to meet with him then he was going to meet her.

He pushed away from the window. The room around him was dim, the firelight low, shadows stretching across the stone walls. He didn’t bother with his cloak.

He wasn’t going to need it when Sophia’s warmth would do what a cloak needed to do. He made sure there were no guards outside. Frankly, he didn’t need guards but because he was the alpha, the elders and even members of the pack insisted that he needed at least one.

He slipped out through the side door, boots crunching lightly in the snow. The cold air bit at his face, but he didn’t mind it. The compound was silent at this hour. Even the guards along the outer wall moved like ghosts. He walked carefully, staying within the deeper shadows until he reached the house next to his. It didn’t take that much time given the distance between their houses.

Her window was slightly open. And Orion saw that as an invitation.He glanced around once more, ensuring no one was nearby. Then he moved. One hand on the sill, a quiet lift of his foot, and he slipped inside like the night itself.

The warmth hit him first. The fire in her hearth was low but steady. There was a book on the table and also a mug.

Sophia didn’t look up at him. She already knew it was him due to his scent. And besides, her body was programmed to alert her whenever he was near.

"Really?" She asked.

He straightened, brushing a bit of snow from his sleeve. "What’s wrong?" He asked her.

She finally turned to him, eyes narrowing, "You had to come in through the window?"

She crossed her arms. "You do know there are doors for a reason, right?"

"It was closed." Orion told her.

"You could have just knocked."

"I wasn’t sure you’d open it." He told her.

Sophia blinked, then huffed a laugh and turned back to her chair. "You broke into my home because you thought I wouldn’t open the door?"

He nodded. "Exactly."

"Of course you did."

Her voice was tired but not cold. She picked up the book she’d been reading and set it aside, turning to face him fully now. "You’re unbelievable."

"Maybe," he said, stepping closer, "but I was beginning to doubt you were coming over to my home."

"I was,"

Orion paused, waiting for the signs that signified that she was lying to him but there was nothing.

*Seems, you should have listened to me after all. Patience is a virtue you lack.* Noctis spoke.

Orion rolled his eyes. "Tell me you aren’t glad I came over. You were as restless as I was before."

Noctis huffed refusing to answer him even if that was the truth.

Orion didn’t move for a moment, then closed the remaining space between them and wrapped his arms around her. The suddenness of it made her stiffen, but only for a second before she relaxed into the embrace.

He breathed in deeply and Sophia did the same.

She chuckled softly against him. "You’re like a child that just found his mother again."

He drew back slightly, his expression half-serious, half-smiling. "Hmmm, that brings ideas..."

"Ideas?" She asked him with a frown and he nodded.

"I wouldn’t mind you dominating me at all." He said with a smirk.

She smacked his arm immediately. "Orion!"

He winced, rubbing the spot even as a grin tugged at his lips. "What? I’m being honest."

"Do you even have any restrictions? I never thought you were so dirty minded." She told him.

"You and me both, shorty. You like the idea." He told her.

"Of you doing what I want? Of course I do."

"We can just move it to the bedroom and..."

"Keep talking and we are never having sex again."

"We’d both suffer from withdrawal." He told her.

She paused then sighed. "That’s probably true. I don’t understand why the moon goddess made us mates."

"It’s because we are compatible after all." He told her.

Sophia couldn’t help it, she chuckled. "We really are."

He gestured towards the book on her table. "What is that?"

"A book."

"I can see that." Orion said with an eyeroll. "I’m asking why you were all over it when you should be all over me."

She scrunched up her face even as a smile threatened to break through. "Your flirting skills need some work."

"They are working on you so I doubt that." He replied with a smile. "Are you going to answer me?"

"I was reading. I planned to come over after I was done but I just can’t make sense of what’s written. I’m trying to get more information regarding footworks."

"Okay?"

"I thought if I understood them," she continued, "then I could make sense of how I was able to play the ball game. Maybe then adapt and make it my own like you said."

He moved to stand beside her, glancing down at the open page. Diagrams and lines covered the parchment, arrows marking movement, angles, shifts of balance. The text was dense, the kind only scholars could love.

"I read through almost half of it," Sophia said, her fingers tracing the illustrations. "But I can’t make sense of it. It talks about adjusting weight between the heel and the ball of the foot, about rhythm and momentum and core stability, but it doesn’t explain how you actually connect that to movement. It’s like it expects you to already know."

Orion nodded, watching her.

"So," she continued, looking up at him, "I wanted to ask. When you said using the shortswords should flow like how the stream flows, I think you attributed that to being that your footwork should flow with the weapon and how one fights. And you said it should be unique and just yours, you get? But how do you even know how to make a footwork just yours? Because this book says everyone develops their footwork based on their stance and weapon and you said to develop it on our own."

Orion blinked.

"And then the book says that every movement should have purpose. But how can it have purpose when you don’t even know what you’re trying to achieve yet?" she added, flipping another page. "Then there’s this part — look — it mentions something called anchor steps. It says they’re used to regain rhythm when balance is lost, but if you don’t have a rhythm to begin with, does that even help? Because I tried to picture it and—"

"Sophia."

She stopped mid-sentence, glancing up at him.

He was smiling. That small, crooked smile that carried both patience and exhaustion. "You do know I came to spend time with you and not teach you right?"