Chapter 14
Stella says nothing three days later as we perform tests on the useless gold ball we found in the cabinet of an upstairs parlor. She’s been quiet since our spat in the library, acting cordial as we work on our search. She’s been nothing but polite.
I don’t like it.
It’s unnatural for Stella to be quiet and easy-going. Her bite is as big as her bark, but right now all she does is nod, ask the occasional question, and avoid my gaze.
I know I pushed her too far the other day with my demands that she not search the grounds. But I couldn’t exactly tell her why I didn’t want her searching the grounds.
I didn’t worry when she was searching for an exit, but if she went out looking for an artifact, she would find something much more dangerous. A weakness.
“So far, contact with skin causes no transformations or time travel of any kind,” she says, scribbling notes on a piece of parchment. Her hair is tied back in a messy knot, but half of it has fallen out and tumbles over her shoulder. She has to try three times to get it all to stay behind her ear.
“Well, since it’s a child’s toy, perhaps I should play with it to trigger a reaction,” I suggest, baiting her.
But she doesn’t even look at me. “Sure, why not?”
“Crocodile, come on,” I whine. “Stop being so agreeable.”
“Why?” she asks, still writing her notes.
Annoyed—with her or myself, I’m not sure—I snatch the quill from her fingers. She glares at me and tries to take it back, but I hold it just out of reach. I can see the fire start to burn in her eyes, and even Narcissus hisses at me from his spot on the table.
“Can you for once act your own age?” Stella demands, still trying to take the quill.
“Not without positive reinforcement,” I smirk.
She scowls and turns for the door, but I grab her wrist before she can get far.
“Howler, can you just forgive me already so we can go back to normal? I don’t like this nice, yet not friendly act that you have going.”
“It’s called indifference,” she says condescendingly, pulling her arm back.
I let her, glad that she’s at least talking to me with feeling now. “Well can you stop being indifferent, please?”
She sighs and her look of exhaustion is not flattering on her already strange face. But I don’t say that. See, I’m making progress. “Alistair, what do you want from me? You acted like a child and then commanded me without any explanation as to why.”
“I know.” I push my hair back, annoyed with Stella for making this difficult, annoyed with myself for caring what she thinks, and annoyed with the curse for putting us together at all.
But mostly I’m annoyed because the past few days have felt so lonely without her jabs and snarky retorts. I don’t like how dependent I feel with her, but I also don’t like not talking to her.
“There are things that you don’t know,” I explain stiltedly. “Things I…”
“You have secrets,” she shrugs, unfazed. “So do I. I don’t need to know everything about you, Alistair. But I do need to know the things that affect me, and at the very least, I deserve an explanation when you tell me what to do.”
“Yeah, you really don’t like being told what to do.”
Stella rolls her eyes and lunges forward, grabbing the quill. “Newsflash, Al, no one does.”
She goes back to her notes, then rolls the gold ball in her hand, studying it. I watch her for a minute, wishing I was angrier. She’s being difficult, and yet I find myself wanting to apologize just to stop her from being upset with me.
I gather that this is the wrong motivation for an apology, but honestly I’m just shocked that I feel the desire to apologize at all. What is happening to me?
“Look, can we…” I close my eyes, hating myself for being so emotional. “Are we okay now? Or do I need to say something else?”
“You have no idea how relationships work, do you?”
I open my eyes at her humored tone and find her looking at me with a pitying sort of entertainment. “It’s been a while since I’ve practiced much.”
Instead of giving me a cutting remark and pointing out all the ways I’ve communicated poorly with her, Stella sighs and holds out her hand.
“Me neither,” she says. “So from one outcast to another, we’ll call it good.”
I’m so in awe of her graciousness that I grin and wink to hide the emotion as I shake her hand. Because I’m emotionally stunted and feelings are weird.
“To be clear, I have only ever been an outcast by choice,” I tease, shaking off the heaviness brought on by her forgiveness.
She rolls her eyes and hands me the golden ball. “Shut up and help me test this. Maybe we need to try talking to it?” she hums, tapping the feather of her quill on her chin. “Tell it what you want to transform into.”
“I want to transform into a dog,” I say absently. “Do you have a particular aversion to the nickname ‘Little Wolf’?”
“What?” Stella says, crinkling her nose. She actually looks better that way.
“The other day, when I called you that, you seemed especially upset about it. Why?”
Her green eyes flash to mine and I see the walls going up. Stella was right when she said that she has secrets of her own. I’m not afraid of her secrets, but my curiosity does want to be satiated.
“Because I don’t like it,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“Okay then, Tiger,” I say, studying her, “Then tell me something that you are willing to share.”
She glares at me and motions to the gold ball.
“Stupid golden ball,” I croon to the ridiculous toy, “Please turn me into a dog. Now will you tell me something about yourself? Something honest?”
Stella scribbles her notes and I wait, exercising my patience. It’s a skill I’m really quite good at but rarely feel the need to utilize. Especially here at the manor where image and reputation mean so little. And heaven knows the only reason I use virtuous things like patience is to gain something.
“My mom loved flowers,” Stella finally says, and her voice is so quiet that I almost don’t hear it.
“What kind?” I ask, not wanting her to stop there.
“Anything that bloomed. She didn’t care what color it was, how hard it was to grow, or whether she had to replant it every year. She just wanted to surround us in things that bloomed.”
Her expression is so affectionate as she speaks that I almost feel like I’m talking to a different person. There’s a softness to her face that I’ve never seen before. And for some reason, I find myself wanting to see it again.
“What was it that she loved so much about the blooms?”
Stella turns a skeptical eye on me. “Why do you care?”
I sigh, sitting in my usual chair and depositing the golden ball in front of Narcissus. He bats at it until Stella takes it away, scowling at me. Then he meows in protest and I stroke his back.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
She’s quiet at first, but then she nods decisively. “She liked life. Seeing things that represented the gift of it made her happy. Blooming flowers, newborns, sunrises. Anything that marked a beginning.”
“That’s…profound,” I say, surprised to mean it. I can’t think of anything that I enjoy for such a wholesome reason. In my world, everything good exists to be consumed. Beauty, food, money. I’ve never enjoyed something that I couldn’t use. Never thought of it.
“It is, I guess,” she smiles, and I’m once again shocked by the shift in her appearance.
I settle in my chair and a shaft of sunlight blinks across my face, a reflection from the tall mirror that leans against the wall. I flinch out of instinct, even though I know the reflection is harmless. Even if it weren’t, the effects never last long.
It’s the one good thing about this aspect of the curse. I rub a finger along the cut on my neck that’s now completely healed, only a faded scar marking the spot. Even that will be gone by tomorrow. The curse’s one generosity, I suppose.
“Do you need me to close them?” The kindness in Stella’s tone shocks me and I stare at her, confused. “Do you want me to close the drapes?” she asks again, eyeing me with concern.
I shake my head dumbly, confused by her concern and gentility. “No,” I manage to blurt. “I don’t mind reflections of the sun.”
She nods but says nothing. She doesn’t hound me for answers or taunt me for my strange aversion. It’s a decency that I didn’t expect and don’t deserve. I know that without a doubt.
But she doesn’t.
She doesn’t know about the time I did nothing to stop Orrin from exiling the father of a woman he wished to court, only to later toss her aside. She doesn’t know about the time Orrin cornered a kitten and set it on fire while I watched and did nothing. The kitten survived and I later stole it from Orrin and gave it to the baker’s daughter, but it didn’t matter. I still let it happen.
There are so many ugly things Stella doesn’t know about me. And for some reason, I want to keep it that way.
“So, what is your blossoming flower?” I ask after I’ve found my voice again.
“My what?” Stella stares at me incredulously.
I feel my face grow hot, and it takes me a second to realize that I’m blushing. I haven’t blushed since I was a child. I don’t get embarrassed. Ever.
“Your mother liked blooming flowers and sunrises because it represented new beginnings,” I explain, picking up a book and pretending to read so she can’t see the mortifying shade of pink on my cheeks. “What is it that brings you that kind of joy?”
“Geese.”
I whip my head up to face her. “I’m sorry, did you say geese?”
She shrugs. She’s still wearing the same clothes she’s been in since she first arrived, but I notice that the shirt beneath her bodice is a different color today. I wonder who convinced her to wear it and quickly decide on Milly.
I nearly blurt out a compliment but catch myself just in time. Stella is still unattractive, but she looks nicer today. Wild, but softer. Maybe she’s finally bathed.
“I like geese,” she says unapologetically, sorting through her notes.
“Is it the loud squawking or their propensity to use their beaks as weapons that won you over?”
“I don’t want to pet them. I just like to watch them.”
“Because…”
A self-conscious look flits across her face and I find myself a tiny bit pleased to know that she cares what I think. Even if it’s only a little.
“I like to see them fly,” she explains, looking down. I want to nudge her chin up so I can see the emotion in her green eyes. They give so much away, it’s fun to watch. “When I watch them moving in a near perfect V, it makes me feel like everything will be okay. Because if birds like that can find their way, then so can I.”
All at once I feel my hands ache to reach for her. I hate vulnerability. It makes me shudder. But even as I think it, I’m not so sure. I say I don’t want that, but what if I do? What if I want to share too? To connect?
But then my chest tightens, and I feel the urge to shield myself. Back up, close off, thrust up a wall as fast as I can stack the insults.
“I guess an animal such as yourself would find geese comforting,” I sneer, shaking my head.
I want to hit myself.
Why do I do this? Ruin good things with sarcasm and indifference. It’s getting old to always have the upper hand if the upper hand is all you have. Getting old to pull long cons that never result in a big enough payout.
I won’t stop though. I don’t know how.
But when Stella just rolls her eyes and lightly smacks my shoulder, calling me ‘heartless rogue’, I wonder if maybe, possibly, I can leave my mask, my games and my upper hand for another time. Maybe just this once, I can have something as simple as a…friend.