Page 38
Nepheli stepped inside the cottage with Agathe’s pink-and-purple form floating like a cheerful cloud above her head. “I have questions,” she breathed out.
“Let me guess,” Agathe chimed. “You’re a Curiosity…”
Their voices dwindled as they moved further into the cottage. Agathe said something, and Nepheli laughed. She had a very nice laugh, clear and fluid like a gurgling brook. The sound mesmerized me, and something uncomfortably—inexplicably—warm flared in my chest. Not a feeling, but perhaps the shadow of one.
I moved forward, compelled by some unseen gravitational force, but Walder put a hand on my chest and got in my way.
He towered over me, the silent question sizzling in his eyes.
“Don’t start,” I groaned.
“Where exactly did you meet your newtraveling companion?”
“It’s a long story.”
Walder sighed. “Apollo, is this what I think it is?”
The accusation wasn’t, by any means, irrational. It wasn’t even cruel. I was desperate to get my heart back—as desperate as I could be in this void of a body, at least. But the mere thought of doing something like that to Nepheli fueled me with such shame that I almost believed myself cured. ToNepheliof all people, who wore her heart on her sleeve and her soul in her eyes, who stopped to blow a wish whenever she found dandelions in the forest, who feared transformation almost as much as she craved it, who longed for magic unknowing of the brilliant magic within herself—and anyone this kind and clever and funny was magic. She had a heart, a stupidly beautiful one, and therefore, to me, she was the most magical girl in the world.
I could never use her like that. Walder had to understand this. He had to believe that I’d done my best to be as crude and annoying, and downright vulgar to her without being cruel. And, gods knew, it was far from easy pushing Nepheli away. I genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. I liked how sharp and witty she was. I liked her honesty and her willingness to share herself with me. Whenever I talked to her, I felt this massive weight lifting off my shoulders. I could breathe again. I could even pretend that I was normal. I could get so easily addicted to her company. And that was a problem. Nepheli was too clever to give her love to someone like me, but she was still kindhearted enough to offer me her friendship, and I was selfish enough to accept it. So perhaps I needed to be cruel. Perhaps it was the only way to protect her from me, and like Eiran had said, to keep my soul at the very least.
“I promise you, it’s not what you think,” I reassured Walder, letting out one long, exhausted breath.
“The girl has a love bite on her neck,” he deadpanned.
“It was nolove, believe me.”
“So you did bite her,” he accused.
“Only to save her,” I protested.
He scrutinized me through unimpressed eyes. “From what? Finding a proper suitor?”
“Don’t be clever,” I snorted. “The mark will fade in a couple of days. Certainly, her suitors back home can last this long, no?”
For all I knew, Nepheli didn’t care about finding a suitor anyway. She was independent and smart and willful. And it was obvious that she had some kind of star-magic inside her that the North had awakened. So the only thing Nepheli should be doing right now is studying at one of the Magical Arts Academies of the East or apprenticing in Thaloria. She should be experiencing the world, not simpering over soft little boys who were hardly deserving enough of her to be calledsuitors.
In fact, I hoped that mark never faded from her neck.
Walder crossed his arms over his chest. “Then what exactly happened?”
“Fairies. Like I said, long story.”
“I have time.”
“You also have wine,” I remarked. “So, can we maybe do this sitting down?”
Walder considered. “She’s very pretty.”
“Really? I didn’t notice.”
“Seems nice too.”
“Toonice if you ask me.”
Walder’s frown deepened, although he didn’t seem mad or even disappointed in me. He lookedhopeful. After seven years, it bewildered me that there were still people in my life who cared about me like that. I couldn’t offer back even a morsel of this affection, and yet they loved me enough to even entertain such a terrible idea.
There was something so unlovely about love. More often than it should, it was painfully unequal.
Table of Contents
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