Chapter 16 #3
When I look back at his face, he wears a broad grin. "You think I'm huge, do you?" he says, his voice low, velveted, which makes absolutely no sense.
"Of course you're huge," I tell him, scrunching up my face.
"Look at the size of you compared to me.
" I hold out my hand, and he stares at it for a long time before I sigh and motion for him to drop his hand next to mine.
"You're supposed to compare them," I tell him.
"Really, you make fun of me for not knowing how to cook and you don't even know the most normal things that humans do. "
"It's been a long time since I was fully human," he says, and there's a tinge of something to his voice that I haven’t heard before. Sadness. That's what it is. "My mother taught me how to cook," he says, finally holding his hand out straight so that I can put mine on his palm.
"Your mother... what was she like?" I ask in spite of myself, curious as always. Either way, maybe it would be better not to be.
"I remember her singing," he finally answers in a faraway voice.
He drops his hand from mine, my palm immediately turning cold without his to warm it.
I tuck it into my overdress and watch him, waiting for the story.
"She had huge brown eyes, black lashes." He stares up at the long, dripping flower overhead, his expression unfathomable.
"I remember her hair. I thought it was the softest thing I'd ever touched.
I remember her holding me next to the fire and singing me to sleep.
I remember she smelled like bread. Like warmth and food. "
He turns his attention back to me, away from the flower and his memories, and I inhale deeply, not realizing I'd been holding my breath.
"What about you?" he asks. "What is your mother like?"
"Well," I say slowly, trying to gather my thoughts, to banish the image of a smaller version of him—soft and young and not terrifying. And I realize that I haven't been terrified of him since the first time I saw him. I haven't been scared of him all day.
"Well," he says, "are you going to answer, or just stare at me? Not that I'm complaining." He flexes his arms slightly, his muscles bulging in the borrowed shirt.
My hand shakes slightly as I reach for the teacup and drink the now-chilled tea to try and regain some semblance of control of the conversation.
"My mother is not as kind as she thinks she is," I say slowly, finally setting the teacup back down.
"In fact, she enjoys small cruelties," I tell him, a tight smile on my face.
"Suggestions of proper behavior are always at the ready," I continue, thinking back to how many times my mother's cutting words made me give up a hobby I enjoyed or never wear a gown again, even if it was my favorite.
"All in the guise of kindness, of course.
" My smile is bitter and I know it. "But she could have been much worse. "
"Is she alive?" Malakai asks.
The change in his tone is alarming, and I stare at him for a long moment. "Yes, and I'd like her to stay that way. She doesn't need any sudden trips into the magical void," I say, swirling my hands around, trying to demonstrate his magic.
To my surprise, sparkling motes appear out of my hands, and I stare at them for a long moment as Malakai lets out a surprised laugh.
"You are in need of training." He smiles. "But I have to say, I am curious now about your father."
"My father died in a hunting accident."
"I'm so sorry. Forgive me, I shouldn't have..."
"I was too young to remember much of it. My mother remarried when I was twelve." That's all I say about my stepfather.
"I take it you didn't like the man? Did he hurt you?" Malakai asks, and this time, there's no way one could overlook the threat in that question—the malice simmering under his words.
"He never hit me or hurt me physically," I say quickly.
Malakai gives me a long look. "There's other ways of hurting someone."
"There's no love lost between me and my stepfather," I tell him. "Shall we leave?" I say, standing up.
"Wait," Malakai says. "I didn't mean to—"
"It's all right," I say, all brightness and smiles lying between my teeth—the way my mother taught me was proper. "Let's get our horse and head back. I'm tired."
"Of course," Malakai says, dipping his head and standing.
Sitting down across from him, it was easy to forget how much taller he is. And now, standing in the small, secluded space in Longleaf Brews, I'm struck anew by the force of his presence, by the way my body immediately responds to his, heating all over in unexpected ways.
"Are you all right?" he asks, his face a picture of concern.
"Ah... Just slightly lightheaded." It's a lie, but it's close enough to the truth that he won't look sideways at it. The problem is, the truth is that he's the one who's made me lightheaded. "It's a pity that we're fated."
"Why so?" he asks, still waiting for me to move from the small alcove hidden by greenery.
"Because I think I'm quite liking getting to know you."