Chapter 24 #3
“I care.” He wanted to say so much more. He sagged, feeling the exhaustion now, and sat on the ground outside the fence, Nonna coming to lay her head in his lap. “Tell me your stories?”
She sat, too, just on the other side from him. “There are too many and you can’t stay out there all night.”
He rather thought he could, sleeping outside her gate in a lovelorn vigil. But the night, which finally felt a bit more like spring than winter, but not enough to be actually warm, was descending with damp chill and he felt sure that Thorn wouldn’t go inside while he was out here.
She makes a good point, Bunny observed. Also, I’m hungry. We’re totally out of snacks.
That reminded him. “I brought you something.”
Her face lit up. “You did? A present?”
“A present that is food,” he answered gravely.
She laughed with delight, clapping her hands together. “I love food.”
“I know.” He couldn’t help grinning back at her, though he soon scowled at the warded and evil-looking rose bramble. “But how…”
“Toss it over,” she suggested. “I think it’s just people who can’t go through.”
He took the cloth-wrapped bundle and hurled it over the hedge, glad he could defeat the barrier at least that much. She caught it deftly and unwrapped the package eagerly. “Oh, a lovely chocolate éclair!”
“You’ve had one before?” he asked, disappointed. He’d hoped to give her something new.
“I do a lot of baking,” she confided before taking a bite and closing her eyes in sensual bliss. “But never one I didn’t have to make and never one this good.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He was so glad, he wanted to give her something else.
The rest of us don’t have snacks, Bunny pointed out.
And I’m bored, Kismet put in. Let’s go somewhere.
Let’s go find Nina! Nonna put in, and Sebastien sighed.
“You’re right, I have to go, but I’d like to hear one of your stories before I have to leave you.”
“And you’ll tell me one of yours?”
“It’s a deal.”
She hesitated.
“It doesn’t have to be the biggest or worst,” he said quietly. “Just a place to start. You can trust me.”
“I think I can,” she replied, still sounding hesitant, however.
“Shall I go first?”
“Yes, please.” She sounded so relieved that he couldn’t help smiling.
“I’m younger than most of my brothers and my mother was … as unpopular at court as she was beloved by my father, plus she died when I was born.”
“I’m sorry.” She sounded so sad for him. He loved her tender heart.
“I never knew her,” he said with a shrug that did nothing to make that truth hurt less.
“We’re alike that way, growing up without mothers,” she offered softly.
“True.” That hadn’t occurred to him before. “Anyway, my brothers would gang up on me, especially my eldest brother, Rotten Rupert.”
She giggled. “You don’t really call him that.”
“Oh no, we all call him that—just not to his face.”
She giggled again, a bubbling silvery sound, and he decided he liked it as much as her happy laugh.
“So, one day when I was about five and Rotten Rupert was twenty, he took me out to see the swans on the lake. They were beautiful, all white and graceful, with arched necks and black around their eyes like the court ladies wear.”
“You liked animals even then.”
“Yes, I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Nor had it occurred to him that Rupert, with all his keen insight into human nature and the ruthlessness to use it against others, had known it, too.
He’d found the perfect lure for his foolish baby brother.
“He encouraged me to go pet one. I waded in and approached this mated pair in the shallows. Have you ever encountered a swan in real life?”
“No,” she answered in a fascinated hush. “I’ve seen illustrations though and they are so beautiful.”
“Yes. And as ugly mean on the inside as they’re pretty on the outside.” He laughed ruefully, that day vivid in his mind. His first memory. “The two attacked me, buffeting me with their wings—which sounds like it shouldn’t hurt, but is like getting punched repeatedly—and bit me so I bled.”
“Swans can bite?” She sounded incredulous.
“With their beaks. No teeth, but those beaks are like knives. I nearly lost an eye.” And had run back to Ali and Dianna, sobbing, while Rupert followed after, laughing his ass off.
“Was Rotten Rupert punished?”
“No,” he answered instead. “He’s Father’s heir and favorite—and His Majesty believes his children should learn the harsh realities of life early.”
She was quiet a moment. “I always pictured court life as full of glitter and joy.”
“There’s plenty of the former but a serious dearth of the latter.” He shook off the gloom. “Your turn. Tell me a story.”
“All right. When I was little I colored in one of Jada’s books.”
“Sounds like something any child would do.”
“Is it? Well, Jada was very angry and said I must be taught a lesson. She asked me which chicken was my favorite and I was too stupid to—”
“No,” he interrupted. “You are not stupid and never were. I want you to stop saying that.”
She was silent a moment, clearly flustered. “All right. I was foolish and told her the truth. Jada always said she had magic to know when I was lying and I believed her for a very long time.”
“Which chicken was it?” he asked, already fearing the outcome.
“Her name was Pickles, because I liked pickles. And Jada made me watch while she wrung Pickles’s neck and then I had to clean and pluck her for dinner. And Jada made me sit at the table until I’d cleaned my plate.”
His heart broke for her. “Oh, Thorn. That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” she said with quiet dignity, though her voice wobbled. “It was a long time ago.”
“So was mine, and it wasn’t nearly so terrible. These things don’t leave us.”
“No, they don’t,” she agreed. “But it’s odd—it feels better to have told you about it. Like it made the memory a little less awful.”
“Yes. I feel the same.”
They sat there together in comfortable silence, separated by an arm’s length and a snarl of briars.
“And now, you should go home,” she finally said, pushing to her feet. “I’m sure Bunny and Nonna are hungry.”
I knew I liked her, Bunny said.
Time to go finally? Kismet asked with enthusiasm.
Let’s go find Nina! Nonna said.
Feeling oddly lighter, Sebastien laughed. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he told Thorn, “even if I have to ride all night and then all day again.”
“Don’t harm yourself for my sake,” Thorn pleaded. “I’ve lasted this long. Another day or two or three won’t kill me.”
Unless Jada returned, but he didn’t say that. “I want to see you again,” he said instead. “Would that be … all right?”
“Yes. So much. I want to see you, too,” she returned, a shy silhouette in the gathering night.
“Until I see you again,” he offered, feeling the warmth of their special kind of goodbye.
“Until I see you again, Sebastien.” He heard the smile in her voice.
And he rode off, bleeding from the thorns, but with hope in his heart.