Page 40 of A Witch and Her Dragon
“Ooh, shortcake for me!” Lyra says, suddenly perking up out of her stupor and making the rest of us smile.
While we put in our order, I keep glancing back at Raelan, but he won’t meet my eyes.
He knows this place, then. He must come here often for Layla to know his order by heart.
Suddenly, I feel as though I don’t know him at all. And in a way, I suppose I still don’t. He’s barely told me anything about himself. I didn’t even know he had sisters until he mentioned them last night. What else about himself does he keep buried inside?
We take a seat at a small round table, and Poppy carries two more chairs over, offering one to Raelan with a shy smile. He looks hesitant, like he’d rather stand over my shoulder, but in so casual a setting, that would surely be odd. Finally, he steps forward, thanking Poppy and making her cheeks flush a deep shade of scarlet.
The five of us cram ourselves around the table, bumping elbows and knees like we’ve been friends for a lifetime. Raelan sits next to me, but he’s careful not to let his legtouch mine beneath the table, and it sends a little twinge of hurt through me.
But then I remind myself of his scream yesterday, the way his body shook beneath the pouring rain, the burns from his chain—which I can still see now, in the golden sunlight streaming through the polished front windows.
He’s already withstood such pain because of me. It feels selfish to hope for more, to want more, and yet deep inside, I can’t help myself.
His cheeks and jaw are clean-shaven today, like I expected they’d be. I wonder how his skin would feel if I were to brush my fingertips across it. I liked the shadowed stubble on his face yesterday, rough beneath my hands, but now I want to touch him again, to know him in all his forms.
What do his scales feel like?I wonder briefly.
Raelan’s dark eyes flick in my direction, catching me staring. A bit of warmth rushes into my cheeks, and I look quickly away.
“So, do you come here a lot?” Poppy asks Raelan, her voice timid.
Before today, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her speak to Raelan directly.
“Often, yes. My mother and sisters like the croissants and pastries. I bring them some whenever I have leave from the castle.”
A ghost of a smile pulls on his lips, then is gone just as quickly. It makes me want to know more about his family, about his sisters and the woman who raised him. He’s such a mystery to me, like a book I’ve only just opened to the first chapter. And I’m desperate to read more.
But Layla sweeps up to the table a moment later, a gleaming silver platter balanced expertly on one hand.
“Here you are, dears,” she says, and I have to clamp my mouth shut to keep it from watering as she slides tiny colorful plates onto the table: strawberry shortcake for Lyra, a cheese Danish with black coffee for Maeve, a cinnamon roll for Poppy, coffee cake for me, and a chocolate-strawberry croissant for Raelan. The plates barely fit on the table, and it’s comedic trying to eat with our shoulders brushing and elbows bumping. Lyra almost causes Maeve to spill her coffee, which causes a short and lighthearted argument, and Poppy smiles as she licks vanilla frosting from her fingers. I eat my coffee cake with my hands, appreciating the freedom I have away from the castle, to experience some of what life must be like for people who don’t grow up as a Ravenscroft. It makes my shoulders feel light with buoyancy.
Beside me, Raelan regards his croissant with hesitation, not yet having taken a bite.
Poppy pushes her glasses up with a knuckle and says softly, “Is everything okay? Would you like something else?”
He glances up at her question, then gives a sharp shake of his head. “No. Everything’s fine.” He finally lifts the croissant and takes a bite. I watch the muscles in his jaw work as he chews, then the bob of his throat as he swallows, and it makes me warmer than it probably should.
“Anyone going to the runeball game today?” Lyra asks. Since it’s a weekend, we’re not wearing our school uniforms, and Lyra is instead dressed in a billowy tunic and trousers, and she pulls one knee into her chest as she takes anotherbite of strawberry shortcake. Her curly red flyaways look almost copper in the light.
“I am,” Maeve says, but she doesn’t sound excited about it. “My brother’s playing. I told him I’d go and watch.”
That’s right—Maeve mentioned early on that her stepbrother attends Coven Crest as well, though he’s a year older than us. I’ve not yet had the opportunity to meet him.
“I’ll go with you,” Poppy says.
And that draws all of our eyes to her. She flushes.
“I thought you hated sports,” Lyra says.
“I’m trying to branch out.” Poppy shrugs. “It might be fun.”
“Highly doubt it,” Maeve grumbles, but Lyra lights up.
“We’ll all go!” she says. “Alina, are you in?”
I don’t have anything else to do this weekend, except studying for an upcoming exam in my magical anatomy class. After swallowing my last bite of coffee cake, I nod. “Sure.”
