Page 41 of Madness Becomes Her

I still don’t know why he calls me that. I assume it will come to me one of these days, but I have a feeling that the reasoning will be another dismal blow to my wanting to return home.

I’m already reluctant because of Finlo and the love he offers if we were to continue getting to know one another. The other saner side of me says it is complete nonsense because someone like Finlo isn’t someone one takes as a lover.

Anger wells in my chest at the idea he’s any less than any human man back in my world. Fuck that.

He’s more.

“Are you alright?” Fin whispers, turning to look me over. His hands steady on my face, thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “You’re flushed again. If you’re getting sick, I’m going to stab the wind.”

I chuckle. “The wind?”

“The wind is a wicked creature, always causing a chill.”

That has my mind spinning in wonder. Is the wind a living entity here?

“I’m alright, Fin. I’m just—”Go on, tell him you’re in a war with yourself over your feelings for him.“I’m just a bit hungry, is all,” I lie.

He checks his watch, which is upside down and not currently in operation. “Well, it’s a good thing it’s tea time!”

Turning me by my shoulders, he leads me toward the door. My heart nearly stops when he drops over my shoulder, his lips skimming my ear. “Don’t worry your beautiful head, your hat will be the grandest of them all.”

It was a lie about the hunger. But as I walk beside Fin, exiting the house into the cool breeze of the possibly corporeal wind, I’m now ravenous.

But not for food.

Fuck, I’m turning into a tree.

After all, they love flesh.

“No!I really think you should get down! You could get hurt!” I yell. Chaos swarms around me. Gus, the Dormouse, is fast asleep on his slice of birthday cake, Bonnie is on the other side of Fin, shouting at him to‘Use sense’,and Lewis is picking his pocket watch clean, unaffected. A few other tea party goers are all shouting over the anarchy around the table, having conversations of their own, of a ludicrous nature.

Fin strikes at the wind again, the butter knife in his hand no more threatening than a loaf of bread. “I will have my revenge for this sickness of yours, if it is the last thing I do!”

I’m exasperated.

This all started because Fin reached over under the table and squeezed my thigh a little too close to somewhere that’s beenaching since our earlier run-in in the workshop, and a flush returned to my cheeks the exact moment the wind blew, and then all hell broke loose.

“She isn’t sick!” Bonnie shouts.

“Yes! Thank you!” I tell her.

“She’s just ugly!” Bonnie adds.

I purse my lips at her as she breaks into fits of giggles in her chair, one wing curling over her belly.

“Oh, that’s it.” I crawl onto the table. “Come down from here this instant before you get hurt.” Already, he’s knocked over cakes, a three-tiered tart rack, and two teapots.

“No! If the wind thinks it can best me, let it try!”

“The wind isn’t a living creature,” I argue, staying out of range of the butter knife he’s wielding through the air.

The wind choses that moment to blow, knocking Fin’s hat off his head and onto the ground.

“Oh, you dastardly creature!” he growls, but I’m surprised by the peaked ears on either side of his head, the tips of which must’ve been hidden under his hat before.

How had I never noticed them?

Was I not looking?