Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘Dian!’ she cried.
Without a word, they’d set off, striding down the gravel path away from her. Towards the looming white limestone of Forge House.
‘Dian! What are you doing?’
As their shadow bled in and out of a row of tall poplar trees, she set off at a run after them.
Fuck! Their legs may have been longer, but Frida could run when she wanted.
It wasn’t long before she’d caught up to them and grabbed their sleeve.
They spun, the shadows of the poplars holding them firmly in their grasp.
‘You think I’m going to let you go in there on your own?
’ they hissed. ‘How can you not trust me yet?’ They bared their teeth as they jerked their chin towards the white shape of the house.
The distant yellow light of the candles flooded out of the windows across the front lawn, coating the edge of their face, their strong jaw, their soft rounded cheeks, in gold.
Frida reeled back, shocked. She told herself she refused to cry. ‘You’re the one who doesn’t trust me,’ she shot back.
Dian’s eyes widened immeasurably, suddenly furious. ‘Me? Are you aware of how much you don’t look like a human, Frida Rose? Are you aware of how dangerous it would be for you to go alone into that house?’
It took her a moment for what they’d said to sink in. She furrowed her brows in confusion. ‘What?’
Dian barked out a laugh. ‘You glow.’
‘I don’t glow,’ Frida exclaimed.
Dian raised an eyebrow and crossed their arms over their chest, waiting.
Frida looked down at herself. She’d thought the light had been coming from Dian, from Moth’s gently woven cobwebs.
But it was, ever so faintly, coming from her, too.
She drew in a gasp and lifted her hands before her.
They were, indeed, glowing. Suddenly, she had a memory of lying under a broken hawthorn tree.
Hit by lightning. Her body had glowed then too.
Purple. This, now she’d noticed it, also had a faint violet-y sheen.
‘How long have I been like this?’ she stammered, waving her hands in dismay.
Dian laughed in disbelief, a rough, leafy sound. ‘You didn’t know, truly?’
‘No, I didn’t know!’ Frida retorted. ‘When you’re with a glowing fairy made of raindrops and spider silk, it’s hard to see much else if I’m honest.’
The way that Dian’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, made Frida instantly feel as if she’d shared much too much. ‘I mean, you know.’ She glared down at her hands, clearing her throat. ‘You glow too.’
Moth, from wherever he’d hidden himself, chuckled gleefully.
Frida’s ears went pink. She asked again, in desperation, ‘How long have I looked like this?’
Dian cocked their head, chewing their lip as if trying not to laugh too. ‘It’s been getting stronger. I think the pool emphasised it.’
‘The pool!’ Frida closed her eyes in panic. ‘I told you it would turn me silver!’
‘Oh, you’re not silver, dragon-not-a-dragon.’ Dian’s lips twitched. ‘You’re more mauve.’
Frida groaned.
‘Your eyes though, the pool had nothing to do with that. Your eyes have always been violet. And in the depths, there is fire.’
‘Fire?’ she whispered, aghast.
‘Fire,’ they said firmly.
Well, Frida didn’t know what to do with that, at all.
Rosewood box, meet too much information.
She scrubbed her hands over her face, aching for a mirror, and then she peeked up at them.
‘You do trust me then? You didn’t think I was going to betray you?
You’re staying because you want to . . . help me?’
They snorted. But she saw the way they’d flushed slightly as well, across the tops of their cheekbones. She couldn’t help the way her heart soared in answer. They trusted her! And then she glared at them and crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest.
‘Well, that makes no difference. You’re not coming with me.’
‘I am,’ they snapped, crossing their own arms just as fiercely.
‘No!’
‘Yes, Frida Rose. I am.’
‘But you’re a fairy! You were born in a tree root,’ she wailed.
‘And you’re a human-not-a-human, dragon-not-a-dragon. It does not matter. I am not going to let you go in there on your own. Can you alter the structures of space, slip through the fabric of reality if you need to?’
Grasping at straws, she lashed out, ‘But what if you’re in the house and you decide in a panic to go through a door? How do I know it won’t almost kill you like it did last time?’
Dian’s eyes blazed, wounded. ‘It won’t,’ they hissed.
‘How do you know?’
‘That place!’ Dian scowled down at the ground, scuffing their big toe through a bit of loose dirt.
‘That room. It was. . . those things you call wards. I don’t understand them still, but pushing my way in was like pushing through a solid wall of malice.
’ They glowered at her. ‘It didn’t help that I had to bring you with me, too. ’
Frida flushed. ‘Oh.’
Then Dian’s face turned anguished. ‘Let me come. I don’t want to feel . . .’
Frida heard the unspoken word. Worthless.
She closed her eyes again.
When she reopened them, Dian was watching her. And then they grinned.
Moth let out a resigned silken groan.