Chapter 20 #2
But Edith wasn’t mad at all. She beamed, jumping up and down, then pulled Thomasin into a hug, making her jump along with her. “That’s it!” she shouted. When she pulled back, she looked up at Thomasin with pride shining in her eyes. “You actually read The History of the Kings of Britain?”
Thomasin felt her cheeks heat. That was new. She was not a blusher. She rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. “Of course I did. You said it was important to you.”
“Thank you,” Edith said, her voice tight.
And then she surprised Thomasin by taking her face in her hands and rising up on her tiptoes to press her lips against Thomasin’s.
Edith’s lips were hesitant and eager all at once.
The kissing certainly wasn’t new, but Edith had never initiated it before.
She had only ever been an all-too-willing receiver of Thomasin’s affections.
This hadn’t bothered Thomasin because she knew Edith had never been romantic or intimate with anyone before, and she also knew Edith had assumed that no one would want her, that she was undesirable.
If you felt that way about yourself, it would be near impossible to make the first move, to trust that you wouldn’t be rejected.
It was much safer to let the other person come to you, which Thomasin was more than happy to do.
But Edith was kissing her now, trusting that Thomasin wanted her. She couldn’t help smiling against Edith’s lips. She grasped Edith’s waist and pulled her closer, their bodies flush.
They kissed until Thomasin accidentally lit her hair on fire when she brushed too close to the burning fence. It only singed a strand or two, but it did kill the moment.
“You know the prophecy by heart, right?” Thomasin asked, just as Edith was about to take the first step. Thomasin could only remember that the hedgehog came first.
“Of course I do.” That smug smile Thomasin loved so much stretched across Edith’s face.
But when Edith moved toward the entrance, Thomasin held out an arm to stop her.
“Wait,” she said. Thomasin went over and picked up a loose rock near the entrance to the cave, then tossed it in her hand, testing the weight.
It seemed sufficient. She lobbed it at the closest tile, the rock slamming into the ground.
The tile splintered underneath it and crumbled away.
It left behind a gaping hole that fell away into nothing but blackness.
It wasn’t until a few breaths later that she heard the echoey clank of the tile shards hitting whatever ground lay below.
“What was that for?” Edith demanded.
“Better to know what we’re working with,” Thomasin said hollowly.
“Really? Do you feel better now?” Edith put her hands on her hips.
Thomasin swallowed. “Not particularly.”
With a sigh, Edith’s shoulders dropped, and she took Thomasin’s hand. She leaned up on her tiptoes, eyes falling shut, trusting Thomasin to meet her halfway.
Which of course, she did.
Thomasin curled her fingers into Edith’s hair. She guided Edith’s mouth to hers, the kiss quickly turning desperate.
Edith’s hands traced up Thomasin’s sides, sending shivers down her spine.
Thomasin angled her head to deepen the kiss and tilted Edith’s chin up with a gentle thumb under her chin. When the heat between them became inescapable, painful, she pulled back, gasping for breath against Edith’s lips.
“No more stalling.” Edith was gasping too.
“We can do that all we want on the other side.” It was like Edith had read Thomasin’s mind, had felt it too.
That the kiss was starting to feel like a goodbye.
That scared both of them more than anything, and if they let themselves get scared, then they would never take that first step beyond the wall of fire.
With a gentle shove, Edith pushed Thomasin away and turned to face the tiles.
Thomasin held her breath as Edith stepped onto the hedgehog tile. If Thomasin was wrong about this, she would never forgive herself.
Edith’s weight settled on the stone, and nothing happened. Both of them released deep sighs of relief. Edith scanned the next row of tiles until she found a heron to her right. She had to lunge in order to reach it.
Once she was safely on the next stone, Thomasin stepped onto the hedgehog.
“You’re a genius,” Edith said to her.
“Nah, that’s you.”
Edith laughed. “How about we’re both geniuses?”
“Deal.”
The next tile was a fox, but this one was far enough away that Edith had no choice but to jump for it.
“Careful,” Thomasin called as Edith bounced on the balls of her feet.
She leapt, and Thomasin’s heart went with her. She landed cleanly, arms wobbling only for a second before she regained her balance. It wasn’t until she was standing still that Thomasin’s heart settled back into place.
Thomasin traced Edith’s steps and terrifying jumps from tile to tile, wolf to bear.
They were only a couple rows away from the end when it happened.
Edith stood on the owl tile, scanning the next row for the right animal.
“The next one is a worm. Do you see it?” she called to Thomasin without turning around.
Thomasin craned her neck, leaning as far forward as she dared.
Each tile was only about two feet across.
There wasn’t much room for mistakes. She spotted the next tile, an almost impossibly long jump from where Edith was currently standing.
“It’s over there, two tiles away from the edge,” she told Edith, her voice grim.
There was no way Edith could make that jump.
It would be a challenge even for Thomasin, and she didn’t mean that in a condescending or arrogant way.
It was just the truth. She was far taller and stronger than Edith. Far more used to physical endeavors.
If this occurred to Edith, she didn’t let on—just said, “Got it, thanks.”
It took all of Thomasin’s willpower to not sprint toward Edith as she bent her knees, readying herself to jump. “Swing your arms!” she shouted uselessly.
Edith’s head turned just enough to meet Thomasin’s eyes over her shoulder. “What?”
“Swing your arms when you jump. It’ll help your momentum.”
Edith gave her arms a few practice swings.
“Like that?” There was fear catching in between her words now, and Thomasin wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and carry her to safety.
But Edith had enough people in her life who held her back, who underestimated her. Thomasin wouldn’t be one of them.
“Exactly,” she smiled encouragingly. “Time it just right with your jump.”
On the tiles, there was no room to take a running jump.
The most Edith could do was scoot her left foot back in a minuscule lunge.
She rocked back and forth between her front and back foot, and Thomasin imagined that she could hear Edith’s heart pounding against her ribs.
Edith drew her bottom lip between her teeth, balled her hands into fists, and leapt.
Time slowed as she arced through the air. Thomasin’s limbs went heavy, and her heart stopped because Edith reached the peak of her jump too soon. She was falling back toward the tiles too quickly.
Her feet crashed into the ground with a thud, and then the tile fell away beneath her.