Chapter Thirty-Nine
Straight into chaos.
She’d been right – they were in the servant’s quarters.
She’d been wrong about the door leading to some quiet untended storeroom, however.
They walked right into a huge bustling room, filled with hordes of sweaty, red-faced people cleaning, slicing, chopping, prepping, cursing, bellowing; the clattering of massive pots, the thunder of someone screaming, the deafening roar of a fireplace.
In her shock, Frida forgot to stop the door from slamming.
It made both of them jump out of their skins and Dian completely lost their grip on their magic, the light and bustle and boom of a house below stairs coming crashing down on them.
The next second, Dian had got the magic back, and the three of them sank behind a row of shelves, safe again within the raindrops.
‘Fuck, shit, devil’s arse,’ Frida muttered as Moth’s legs skittered, moving a thousand miles a minute, webs flying.
‘Fluff-for-brains cursed webless spinners!’ he shrieked in reply.
Frida might have laughed if she hadn’t been so horrified as she peeked out from behind the shelves. Thankfully everyone was so busy, it might be possible they’d all just missed two people and a spider emerging out of thin air.
‘Did they see us?’ Dian hissed.
She pulled back, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘I think we’re ok.’ Then she did a double take.
Dian was not, in fact, ok. Not at all. They looked like they’d just been thrown into a nuckelavee nest. Leaning so hard against the wall, it seemed as if they wanted to sink inside the very stones.
Frida, knowing that might be entirely possible, winced.
Anxiously, she peered again around the corner of the shelves, just in time too.
A maid in a prim brown dress and dirty apron was beelining straight for them.
She cursed and, flipping round, pushed Dian a few feet to the right, even further into the dusty corner.
In sheer panic, she pressed the full length of her body against theirs in a desperate attempt to shield them.
Dian stared down at her, shock quivering over their face.
She froze as the maid started rummaging for something, right where Frida had just been standing, before hoisting a sack of flour over her shoulder, humming to herself as she headed back into the fray.
Frida went limp as she leaned her head against Dian’s collarbone.
For a few moments, she could only close her eyes and breathe in their earthy scent.
Their chest was heaving, but soon they both started breathing easier, and Frida thought that if she stayed like that forever, pressed against their warm body, she wouldn’t mind one bit.
In the raindrops, there was that miraculous feeling of their heartbeats touching.
When Frida opened her eyes again, Dian’s were already on her, vast, dark and endless as galaxies.
Suddenly, awareness crashed back, and she remembered herself and where they were. Stumbling backwards, her face burned. But she’d forgotten they were holding hands.
‘Shit, sorry,’ she exclaimed, too loudly, as they jerked her back.
Dian’s pupils seemed even darker now, and the way they were looking at her, their breathing shallow, as if they were suddenly wondering what a not-quite-a-human looked like without their clothes on.
Her face went even redder. Even her freckles were blushing.
Moth made a disgusted squeak. ‘Lest I remind you both, we are in a deeply perilous situation and now isn’t the time for casual flirtation!
’ The silken threads of his voice betrayed him though, positively dripping with glee.
‘There’s enough moisture in these raindrops to send a young spider into a frenzy. ’
A sharp involuntary sound escaped Frida’s lips as her traitorous mind recalled that terrible book in the library, with its woodcuts of the fairies orgying under a full moon.
She saw Mr Botherington in her mind’s eye too, shaking his finger and proclaiming doom.
DOOM! Desperately brushing some loose tendrils of hair off her face with the back of her sleeve, she cleared her throat to speak.
What she might have said however, she had no clue.
There was another shout from somewhere near the fireplace, and a bone-jarring clatter as a pot was dropped.
Dian’s face quickly folded back into terror.
Frida willed her freckles to return to their normal colour. ‘Are you ok?’
Dian shuddered. ‘Yes,’ they squeaked.
‘Can you move?’
‘I can,’ shooting her a look that was beyond brave.
Frida didn’t want to think about the fresh wave of feelings this evoked.
About the way it made her core throb, and her breasts feel heavy.
Sea and skies, she thought despairingly.
She needed Mr Botherington here to give her a stern talking to.
Telling herself this was not the time, she braced herself.
‘So, we go on three?’
Dian bared their teeth. ‘We go on three.’
‘One,’ Frida said with a thundering heart.
‘Two,’ Dian whispered.
‘Three!’