24 Maerryl #2
“Well, the lady needs her beauty sleep too, of course,” I said.
She unsealed her bedroom door, and I held it open for her.
As she took care of resealing it for the evening, I moved to stoke the fire.
Dove lit a few candelabras around the room and carried one over to where I sat on a cushion in front of the low table.
Someone had brought up a tray with our supper already, two hefty, lightly steaming bowls of soup, along with a big basket of crusty bread and Choia’s special garlic-herb butter.
My mouth watered, seeing that little tub of golden perfection.
Dove settled onto the cushion next to mine, dark red silk pooling around her. “Actually,” she said, “I wasn’t thinking of sleep, per se.”
My attention snapped from the butter to her face. “Oh no?”
One side of her lips tipped upward, but she only reached for her bowl, taking a deep inhale of its scent before replying. “Not exactly.”
“Why, Lady Dovenesdrea. My, my. I almost might suspect you plan to seduce me.” Her cheeks went lightly rosy in that way I adored, and she ducked her head, suddenly very intent on her meal.
I pulled my own heavy bowl toward me, chuckling low.
Crispy bacon crumbles and an ample scattering of chopped chives covered the soup’s surface in a little mountain.
I dipped my spoon in and took a taste. Potato soup.
Perfectly rich but not heavy, with real cream and big, bite-size chunks of potatoes.
Thick, comforting, and deliciously warm in my belly.
I ate up bite after bite, finally pausing to smear some of the herbed butter on a hunk of bread.
With a deep, contented sigh, I said, “I am thankful every day here that Choia entered my life. That woman can cook.”
Dove nodded heartily, swirling her spoon in the air in agreement. Suddenly, she let out an abrupt burp and froze, looking astonished at her own body’s outburst. Then she started giggling. “Oh, excuse me! How rude.”
I let loose my own belch, double in volume and length, just for good measure.
She sat stock-still for another moment and then giggled even harder, reaching for my hand.
“If Mother and Father were here, they’d be aghast. There’s nothing they dislike more than poor manners.
” She sighed happily, looking carefree and comfortable.
Her eyes glowed in the candlelight, and I dropped a spoonful of potato in my lap, distracted.
Wiping it up surreptitiously with a napkin, I said, “Have you never thought about maybe… leaving home? Traveling, or finding your own place if this sale works out? You don’t—well, I guess you just seem much happier now that they’re away.”
She threw a soft look to me. “Well, I suspect that might be largely because of the excellent company.” My heart swelled.
“But you’re right too,” she said, sighing.
“I hadn’t seriously considered it before, but lately…
lately, I find myself imagining a different future.
One where they’re in my life still, I hope, but perhaps with some distance.
I love it so much, at the manor. For all that we’ve had hard times here, it holds so many of my happiest memories too.
” She swallowed, playing with a piece of bread.
“I think ideally, I’d like to stay. Care for the estate and the people here, the grounds.
Do what I can to help the priory, and the village too, if they’ll let me eventually.
“And my parents… I’d like to set them up in Talon.
Permanently. With the coin from the sale, I’m hoping to make that happen.
After we get your brother’s cure all set, of course.
And then Mother and Father can stay there, or spend the off-season traveling to friends’ country estates if they want.
Things seem to be going well for them in our old circles, if their last letter is any indication.
I can give them enough coin to get settled, and perhaps secure some safe investments for them to live off of with Mx.
Bottlecoat’s help, or a small art gallery.
But that will be it. I want to promise myself that I won’t solve their problems for them anymore.
They’ll live their lives as they want. And I could live mine, here.
With Choia, Petra, Lightning, everyone who cares for me reciprocally. ”
Her palm grew sweaty in mine. The bread was torn into tiny pieces, scattered across her bowl and the tray. “And—and you. I hope. Not as my bodyguard. But as my—as my someone. As just us, together. If that sounds alright to you?”
I felt as if she’d taken all the air from my lungs, my chest. I tried remembering how to breathe.
Everything she’d said, the life she’d laid out—it seemed like a dream. Like she’d plucked it from my own deepest desires and offered to me exactly what I wanted, needed, to hear.
Faintly, I said, “More than alright. Dove, that sounds perfect.”
Her eyes shone somehow even more brightly. She leaned forward and pressed her lips tenderly against mine. Guilt crashed in me, and when we parted, I took a ragged breath.
I can’t do this anymore.
Closing my eyes so I couldn’t see her beautiful face, so pleased by my answer, I said, “Dove. I need to tell you something.”
But she was up, moving to a small chest on the floor.
I’d checked it along with the rest of her suite soon after I’d arrived, just finding a little collection of small, plain rocks.
Plucking a stone from the chest now, she came back and held a hand out, helping me up from the ground.
“I think I know what it is. But wait, I have something to tell you first.”
Leading me into her bedroom, only lit by the muted glow of the sunset, Dove sat us on the end of her tall, cloudlike bed.
A pleasant breeze drifted through the open window, and I made a mental note to close and lock it later too, before she went to sleep.
Dove took a deep breath as if steeling herself, and then showed me the stone.
“What is this?” she asked me. I looked at it: a gray rock, smooth and no bigger than a coat button.
Confused, I picked it up. It was as plain and solid as it seemed. Handing it back to her with a quizzical look, I said, “It’s just a stone.”
“Right. Okay. Correct.” Dove rolled it in her palms, then wrapped them tightly around the little stone.
“Dove, what’s going on? Is there something inside it?”
She laughed nervously. “Not exactly.” Tilting her head forward as if in prayer, her lids closed and fingers tightened.
After a few moments, her fingertips began to glow.
Then the rest of her fingers, her hands—as if the stone inside her grip burned brightly.
I stared as her brow furrowed tightly in concentration, calm radiating from her in gentle waves.
It took no more than a few minutes before Dove’s forehead smoothed once more and the light faded from between her fingers. She released a shaky breath and held the stone up to me again.
Only it wasn’t a little gray stone anymore. In its place sat a perfect, oval-shaped gemstone, as pink as the fading sunset outside. I looked from the gem back to her, suddenly understanding.
“A pink ruby,” she whispered. “I thought you’d like it.”
I stared, mind whirring.
“This was it,” I said dazedly. “This was how your family came back from financial ruin. Not a relative in the Southern Isles, or a smart investment, or anything like that.”
Dove shook her head. My pulse raced.
Zephyra wanted this secret, and I’d finally gotten it. But not a single part of me felt relieved or satisfied. Instead, I broke out in a cold sweat.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, almost sharp. “Do you know how dangerous this kind of power is, particularly for someone not protected by the Crown? You’re not in the mage’s guild. If anyone found out—”
I couldn’t let anyone find out. Not even if it meant lying to Zephyra or risking my future in the Takers Guild. This was bad. Very bad. The ability to transfigure jewels from practically nothing? That kind of magic put a target directly on Dove’s back.
“I know. I’ve always had a touch of magic, but didn’t bother much with it before.
Then everything happened, and I—I felt so desperate.
One day about a year ago, this… this just happened.
I’d been out in the gardens, imagining the pebble I held was a diamond.
How I could fix our troubles, fix everything if I could just do something useful.
And when I opened my hand, a tiny, cloudy diamond was there,” she explained quietly, watching me with warmth that I didn’t deserve.
“I haven’t told anyone, not even Petra. Only my parents.
Choia suspects, I think. I wouldn’t be surprised if she already knew, but she’s never said anything. I trust her.”
Why did you trust me, Dove? My stomach roiled, and I clutched at my hair, wincing as my hand brushed the bonded runic tattoo. This was wrong, all wrong. I couldn’t save my family, couldn’t save my brother—how could I keep Dove safe now?