Chapter 24 #2
I decided to explore the bedroom, of course.
Here, the walls and ceiling curved in together, a shape that reminded me of what it must feel like to live inside a mushroom cap.
One wall held a large window, and right across from it was yet another hearth.
There was a simple large bedframe on the back wall—the tops of which were shaped like small mushrooms. Perhaps this room really was designed to be like the inside of one.
“Clara?” Hesper’s voice called from above.
“Yes?” I yelled out to her.
“Come look at this,” she said.
It must have been another bedroom. Perfect; we could both have our own room and our own space until the end of this. I definitely planned to stake my claim on the mushroom bedroom.
I made my way up the stairs and into the room above.
My breath hitched at what I saw.
It wasn’t a bedroom.
It wasn’t a bathing room.
It was a library.
Books filled every bit of wall space, a tufted—albeit dusty—red floral armchair resting in the middle of it all. It was big enough for two, or three, or perhaps just Warty when he was feeling particularly territorial.
The walls up here slanted toward each other until they curved into the ceiling, circling one large window shedding light on the magnificence surrounding us.
The only other window in the room was straight ahead, in a half-moon shape to accommodate the reading nook nestled underneath.
The fabric was a butter yellow with delicately embroidered flowers.
Is this a dream? my heart whispered.
Candle sconces adorned the ceiling like stars, arranged so that no matter the time of day, you could read your book with good lighting.
Even though the walls were at odd angles with each other, shelves had been suspended expertly so that books would never fall. I ran my hands over the spines of the books, shocked that they were in good condition despite being unused for who knows how long.
And how long had it been since someone had cozied up here to read? Such thought and care were sewn into every bit of this place. The decision to leave here could not have been taken lightly.
Hesper slapped a hand on the armchair, a cloud of dust pluming into the air.
“Can you not do that?” I coughed.
“We have to clean it, now or later.” She turned toward me, dust coating her face.
I let out a hearty laugh, and Hesper just scowled.
“Why don’t you go save the town or something?” She set back to slapping the dust off the armchair, more clouds of filth rising into the air. What an imbecile. The dust had nowhere to go except for the floor and the books.
“That’s the plan,” I retorted. “Should be simple to grow a garden without magic, good soil, or seeds.”
“One of those things you do have,” Hesper said with exasperation.
“Is that so?” I met her exasperation with my own, placing both hands on my hips.
“Where do you think the flower under your boot came from?” Hesper asked, matching both my stance and my already quirking eyebrow.
“Angus said it was Dwindle’s flower. It was there before I set my boot down,” I chided.
“Of course, of course,” she said sarcastically. “Because their growing conditions are perfect, aren’t they? Oh, and the underwater flowers at Marielle’s?”
“I thought that was some type of underwater phenomenon!”
“And what about the dandelions growing on Irk?” she pressed.
“They are a common flower and can grow in most conditions.”
“Oh my Goddess.” She looked toward the ceiling. “You don’t think they grew because you let yourself go, you let yourself feel, you let yourself become undone?”
My mouth went dry.
“Is that what last night was?” My heart went cold. “An experiment?”
“Let’s just say it was two birds with one stone,” she said casually and set back to dusting.
I scoffed.
“If I had magic, Hesper, I wouldn’t be here.
I have tried; I have reached. It is not there.
I will admit to you that the recurrence of buttercups and other flowers along the way could seem like something, but I promise you, there’s nothing.
” I pointed to my chest, ever hollow save for the stolen moments with her.
“You’re impossible.” She shook her head.
“I’ve been called worse.” I muscled past her, unlatching the half-moon window and letting some fresh air in. Hesper then took up a rug and began to beat it against the beams inside of the house. Grime went everywhere.
“If you’re going to clean, at least do it correctly!” I tutted.
“If you’re going to fuss at me, then you can just leave,” she said through gritted teeth.
I narrowed my eyes at her, and she did the same. But there was too much work to do right now; we could brawl later.
“Oh, and before I forget—” Hesper walked right up to me, dust and sweat outlining that scar above her mouth.
Damn her for being tantalizing while covered in grime.
“Here,” she said, gently tucking something behind my ear.
It felt soft yet sturdy. I reached up to touch it, but she stopped me, cradling my hand in hers.
“The petals look too delicate to touch.”
“The petals?” I asked, confused.
“Yes, from the plant box downstairs,” she replied.
Odd; I must have missed one.
Her hand was still holding mine; I looked down at it, my heart pinching at the sight. She let it go quickly and set back to work. I shook my head, willing the comfort of her to leave me.
Angus, Murt, and a few others I didn’t know the names of yet showed up with an array of other bits and bobs: kitchen cutlery, a few pots and pans, several quilts, teacups, and, to my great delight, a few heirloom tomato seeds someone had been holding on to.
Thankfully, they also carried a large bag of pastries and a canteen of coffee.
Before I could adequately thank them, they scurried away, claiming to not want to interrupt my work.
They promised they would come back first thing tomorrow to check in and that they had told all of Dwindle not to disturb me for the day.
I decided to sit under the willow and try to enjoy a spot of breakfast. Albeit it was well into the evening, but a first meal—no matter the time of day—should always be considered breakfast. I rested my head against the tree, savoring the honey sweetness of the lavender-and-blueberry scone now dancing on my tongue.
A moan of pleasure escaped my mouth, acutely reminding me of last night and the devilishly, painfully beautiful warrior inside the cottage.
Her mouth on mine, her ravishing me until my body trembled, our hearts beating together as one.
Stay focused, I scolded myself. Throwing myself into work had always been my strong suit, and it was either that or burn up all over again for Hesper Altanfall.
But my fingers were trailing the places on my face that she had kissed—a path of embers still burning there for her—and I accidentally touched the flower she had tucked into my hair. The petals fell.
All yellow. A familiar, golden sheen coating each one.
A single buttercup.