Page 37 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
‘William, who does that desk belong to?’
The question was met with silence, making me turn to see if he was still there. Only to find William indeed there, a deep sadness on his normally cheery face as if suddenly struck by grief. He shook his head, a small unconvincing smile slipping back onto his face.
‘It was Healer Swift’s.’
‘Master Healer Gideon Swift?’ I pressed gently through my confusion. Emrys had said the name Gideon but I hadn’t put it together.
‘He was raised by the Blackthorns.’ William made quick work of tidying up the abandoned plates and cups that litteredmy desk – evidence of just how long I’d been lost in my work. ‘Emrys considers him his brother.’
‘What happened to him?’ The Council’s records on him had suddenly stopped after the war, the same way they had done when dealing with Emrys. Considering no new papers were released and the Council never spoke of their once renowned healer, I’d assumed he’d passed like all the others.
‘He isn’t dead,’ he clarified. ‘He and Emrys had a terrible fight and he left. Things weren’t the same after that.’
‘What did they fight about?’ I shouldn’t be asking these things and yet I couldn’t stop myself.
‘Emmaline.’ William shrugged, a tiredness in the word, as if the name haunted them all. ‘The only thing they ever fought about.’
Emmaline Blackthorn. Emrys’s sister. The name I’d seen scrawled on the front of some tomes on the back, as if marking her territory on the storybooks and legends.
‘What happened to her?’ I considered the desk I now sat at. Her desk. The ghosts that could still linger here.
‘Nobody talks about that,’ he replied quietly with such sadness it made the room suddenly cavernous, any warmth and comfort evaporating. The book shelves seeming to sag with melancholy around us.
‘I need to get back to my paper, but dinner is in the kitchen.’ He nodded, gathering up the tray and moving to leave. ‘Cheese too.’
Alma’s small mouse nose twitched, looking at me and then William. She rubbed her ear with her paw and before I could even open my mouth, she scrambled off the desk to chase after William, who laughed as she darted past him.
‘Traitor,’ I muttered, flopping back in my chair. Not that I could blame her. I wasn’t even enjoying my own company.
I set about trying to pass the time, but really I was waiting foolishly for the ominous form of Blackthorn to return. As if I had any hope of being bold enough to ask him all the things I wished.
‘Fool.’ I sighed to myself, picking up my pen and continuing with my notes.
The hours slipped away from me until I was practically squinting in the dark at the papers. My back ached from being hunched over my desk all day and, as I looked behind me, the fire flickered weakly. I didn’t have the energy to stoke it again, my stomach rumbling with displeasure at my negligence.
The desk drawer rattled in question.
‘I’m fine,’ I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose as I reached for my papers once more, ignoring the ache in my shoulder. I had only one more chapter to finish.
The papers were suddenly swept to the side in a false wind, piled and then pushed into the bottom drawer that shot openand closed before I could even blink.
‘Oi !’ I snapped, leaning down to pull on the small brass handle, the wood groaning but it didn’t open. I tried again, even using my Kysillian strength but the drawer didn’t budge. Its creaking sounded like distant laughter.
This bloody house.
‘Fine.’ I huffed with a frustrated sigh, knowing it was giving me no choice other than to accept defeat.
Reluctantly I went in search of the kitchen.
William was absent, but a pot of steaming stew and fresh rolls of bread sat on the table with a waiting stack of bowls.
I took a seat and dug in, wondering where indeed William had run off to as I contemplated the hearth. I should have checked his workroom before coming down here.
As if a single thought could have summoned him, someone sat on the bench opposite me. I turned, almost dropping my spoon as the dark figure of Blackthorn sat there. Not even looking at me as he reached for one of the rolls of bread, tearing it efficiently and digging in.
I almost choked on my stew. I hadn’t seen him take a meal in the kitchen before.
It was only then I noticed the disarray of him. The collar of his shirt torn, his jacket creased and covered in a strange grey soot.
