Chapter Thirty-Four. When You’re Given a Gift
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
WHEN YOU’RE GIVEN A GIFT
FARREN
Amidst all the worry and tension of our world being broken, Jeffrey and Shelly march forward in unifying their own. The wedding is upon us.
As James and my parents like to remind me, nothing has gone wrong yet.
The hatchlings can hide in the tunnels of the cave and they can fly.
All is well … for now. The anxiety of what could happen bites into my nerves.
I can’t relax. I can’t stop blaming myself for falling for Mr. Murphy’s trick with the bronze.
But today. Today is Shelly and Jeffrey’s. Today we celebrate.
I spend the morning tucked in Shelly’s cottage with the bride and her two best friends.
I shape her new strawberry blonde wig into a crown braid and then delight in weaving flowers into every available spot.
Cara’s older cousin and Shelly’s bridesmaid, Beatrice, helps me with my own makeup.
It’s what I imagined a slumber party would feel like, giggling and getting ready.
Then as Shelly dresses, her friends and I change into our purple gowns.
We all squeal at how beautiful everyone looks, a slightly different shade of purple for each of us, mine the darkest. Atop my shoulders lies the metal shawl I handcrafted, simple, but shiny copper as Shelly requested.
“Oh, Farren! Your shawl!” Beatrice coos as she runs her fingertips over the metal decorating my shoulders and helping hold the dress in place.
“Thanks. Shelly made me craft it,” I say, receiving even more laughs. Her friends know too well that Shelly has a power of persuasion and wants everyone to be beautiful even on her big day.
“You crafted it?” Shelly asks, interrupting our laughter.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Spin for us,” her other friend, Maeve, encourages.
I spin, a shimmer of sparkles. For one of the first times I feel pretty, armored in confidence no one could shake.
“Go get James,” Shelly beckons. I halt my rotation. Okay, maybe one person could shake.
“What? No. He can get himself to the wedding. It’s not like he’s going to get lost.” Her ceremony is only half a mile up the road.
“Farren,” she huffs. “I’m not worried about him getting lost.”
I blush, pat the pleats of the skirt like it needs dusting. “I’ll just see him there. Especially when I have to walk down the aisle with him thanks to a certain someone.”
Shelly looks pointedly at me. “I have one request of you today.”
This can’t be real. “And it’s this?”
“Yes.”
“Shelly.” She knows I can’t. She knows I shouldn’t and yet she’s pushing. The atmosphere shifts as Shelly notes my tone and expression. Then before another word is said, she pulls me into the bathroom and away from Beatrice and Maeve.
“Shelly,” I repeat as the door clicks closed. “You know why I shouldn’t do that. So why—”
She whirls on me in a billow of white. “I want you to live your life, Farren. I know the risks. This is the first boy you’ve ever liked. I’m sure you’ll have more opportunities to fall in love, but if this damn illness has taught me anything, you don’t wait, and you don’t throw a good thing away.”
I breathe in order to not cry. This wedding was rushed for a reason, one reason.
The reality of that crashes over me. And while Shelly looks healthier than I’ve seen her all summer, beautiful beyond measure, the thought of not knowing how much longer I might have her as my big sister hums an ache in my chest so fierce I think I might shatter.
Without a word I throw myself at her, hugging her so close our metal shawls clang together.
She tucks me under her chin. “I know what it’s been like for you, Farren. Hiding your power has turned into hiding yourself. Don’t get so used to that feeling that you snuff out your brightness. I need you to remember that even if … even if I’m not here, okay?”
“Shelly,” I squeeze harder as if I can tether her to life. “Please—”
“I need you to be selfish sometimes. Promise me?” Her voice chokes on emotion.
“I’ll promise you if you agree to take some gold.”
“Farren, that’s not necessary,” she warns, almost laughing at how ridiculous I am to keep hammering this point we both know she’ll refuse.
I look up at her. “Or at least let me give you more silver tea. Please, I know how to make it now. Please,” I beg.
“Fine,” she laughs. “You’ve worn me down.”
“About time,” I say, unraveling myself from her hug, careful to not let what I’m sure is some disheveled makeup near her pristine white satin.
She smiles as she cups my face. “The great thing about this agreement is you have to go first.”
Even though I know a setup when I see one, I have no plans to deny Shelly’s request. So, with her friends shooing me out the door, I leave the boisterous energy of the cottage for the silence outside.
I sweep across the fields, all the dragons in the barn for one of the first nights in ages.
No Rhinoridges sneaking through long stalks.
My parents’ Sprinters and Daphine aren’t fishing off the coast. Just the haze of a quiet late afternoon, and yet my heart pounds going to James like this.
In all the preparation and unease, we haven’t really talked about our futures again.
I want to just like him. I wish we could be like Jeffrey and Shelly, who after they admitted their feelings, simply dated.
I want to choose him without feeling like if I do, I’ll be hiding away the other parts of myself, that I’ll be pretending and lying forever.
I knock on the loft door hoping he’s already left, that I can fulfill Shelly’s wish without being alone with him. Because the last time we were alone … I don’t know what comes next if we are left alone again.
The door is thrown open and James stands there, in his dark gray suit and a purple tie, a perfect match to my dress. His curls are less wild. I inhale at how attractive he is.
He stills when he spots me. My heart stutters, nervous of what he’ll think.
He’s seen the dress before, being held up by my hands and panicked will.
But now it’s fitted to my frame and the seamstress did put in padding, so I actually have a proportional figure.
And per Shelly’s request, I’ve attached the shawl to help the neckline stay in place.
“Hi,” I breathe.
“Hi,” he echoes. “You look—”
“You too.” I wave a hand. “You look—”
I laugh which makes him laugh.
“You look beautiful, Walsh.”
“Shelly told me to come and fetch you. I don’t exactly know why,” I lie.
His gaze roves over my dress, the shawl. He bites his lip as he smiles. “I know why. Want to come in for a second?” He opens the door wider.
“I don’t know if I…”
“Trust me, I’m only doing what Shelly would want.”
I step inside cautiously, buzzing with nerves as he closes the door. My eyes flicker to the bed and I jolt attention back to James. Oh god, why am I so flustered? Is this how he felt every time we were alone?
“So why did Shelly think you couldn’t make it to the wedding without an escort?”
He grins. “Well, you know how little she thinks of me.”
I laugh realizing just how opposite the truth is. How much my family and friends do like James. It’s a bittersweet bite. This would be so easy, just a boy and girl liking one another, if the world were a different place.
“Shelly wanted to give you a choice.”
I stagger out of my thoughts. “What?”
He gestures to my shoulders. “You probably won’t take it, but I ended up making you a shawl. I told Shelly about it two days ago. She just wants you to see it, give you the choice to wear it.”
“You didn’t…” Now I understood Shelly’s directive, so crystal clear it sparkles. She wanted me out of my shawl and into his. A little matchmaker at work even on her freaking wedding day.
“Yours is beautiful. But do you … do you want to see … what I made for you?”
I nod, my mind mush. As he turns for a box and heaves it out from under his bed, I decide it’s best to solidify the swirl of my emotions with humor.
“I will look at it,” I say with a thick haughty accent, metallic and fancy. “But as you rightfully know, I only wear the very best, so I expect the very best.”
James turns with the box in his arms, smiling. He lays it on the table with a soft thump. “It sounds like you have a good eye. It’s probably not worthy of you, or even your criticism. But it will be an honor to hear your thoughts on how I could hone my craft.”
I wave a hand, playing into the part more than I even expected. “Yes. Yes. Show me then.”
James opens the box and gestures in a flourish of show.
The joke falls away, my pretension and haughtiness obliterated.
I know his eyes are on me, but I can’t stop staring at the copper shawl sitting on purple velvet.
I thought it would just be different than mine.
But no, it’s … it’s the most gorgeous rendering I’ve ever seen.
Instead of dragon scales or flowers, the back metal piece has been shaped into an endless skyline.
And woven within that carved sky are three dragons.
While they aren’t depicted as hatchlings, I know they’re ours—Zilar, Electrum, and Oria.
He turns the metalwork in the box to show off the front, both shoulders like dragon wings. It’s a design I’ve seen before, but the detail, the exquisite quality of the wings … I reach out my fingertips to brush along the polished lines.
“James,” I gasp. “I can’t. I can’t wear this.”
He’s also dropped the playfulness. “I think I got the measurements right.”
I laugh at the absurdity that he really thinks I meant the measurements.
“Shelly and Jeffrey will know at once.”
“They can know. They already know.”
True. Evident from Shelly practically shoving me out the door that she wanted this to happen, for me to choose James’s work. And my parents know as well, even if we are keeping our relationship quiet.
“They’re on our side. Or well…” he smiles. “On my side for sure.”
“They’re my friends.”
“And like I’ve told you countless times before, I’m likeable.” That boyish grin with the dimples appears, disarming me. “For everyone else, you can say you crafted the shawl yourself.”
“And who would believe that?”
“Anyone who truly knows you.”
My breath catches at the compliment.
“Can I at least see you in it?” James asks and I realize we’re only an arm’s distance away from one another.
I don’t know where it comes from, but I find the courage to close the distance and say, “You’ll have to take this off first.”
Now it’s his turn to pause, to gulp in desire.
He crafts the clasps free and I feel the weight of my metal want to fall down my back. James doesn’t dare let it drop. His fingertips brush my collarbones as he pulls the copper off me.
As he situates the new shawl, he’s generous with his touch.
He brushes my neck, traces my collarbones, and lingers on every moment he can as he “places” the shawl.
Then his knuckles dip to the dress’s neckline where the metal must be crafted to hook into the top of the dress. Both functional and eye-catching.
My skin feels like it’s on fire. My breathing turns heavy.
I dare to look at him and his total focus is on me, on those clasps he’s hesitating to fasten because then this moment ends.
Painstakingly slow, he crafts the metal through the loops and bonds the piece in place.
And now I wear his metal, a symbol of union.
On a smaller scale this act mirrors what Jeffrey will do to promise himself to Shelly in an hour’s time.
At last James steps back, and it almost feels like we’ve been making out this whole time instead of him securing metal on my shoulders. “Will you be my date to this wedding?” he asks softly.
“With our deals still intact, I assume?”
His eyes are like a storm, like with just a look he could break those deals in two. “With our deals still intact.”
“So out there we hate each other.”
“Out there we hate each other.”
“But everywhere else…?”
“But everywhere else know I crafted this shawl for you and only you.”