Page 39 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
An apology lay heavy on my tongue but I couldn’t seem to speak or breathe quite steadily as Emrys considered me, those dark eyes following the curve of my mouth before he let go of my hand in the water and returned to the table.
William engaged with him instantly in a conversation about mud parasites. I couldn’t focus on the words, drawn by how cold my hand suddenly felt despite the hot water. How long it took the chill to dissipate.
Fool. That mocking voice hissed again and I let the sharp barbs of it dig into some sensitive place inside of me. Iwasa fool. Ruining things all over again.
I went back to washing the dishes. Washing intently until I was certain Emrys was gone for the evening. Just like the coward I was.
I should have hidden in the bath. Faked a headache and gone to bed. There were many things I should have done, but instead I found myself walking into the study. Thankful at least that the house seemed to be on my side and took mercy on me by not making be hunt for it too long.
The cosy room was bathed in the warm light from the fire.
Emrys was at his desk, hair wet and brushed back as the cotton of his shirt clung to the broad planes of his shoulders. Surrounded by his usual clutter of books, clearly recovered from his ghoul encounter.
Sensing my nervousness or my mere presence, he looked up as I reached the edge of his desk. The stern expression I couldn’t read made my heart beat a little faster, but I persevered.
‘William wanted to learn some recipes.’ I placed the small plate of biscuits I carried on the desk. My feeble offering of peace. ‘My father liked to bake.’
Lavender and lemon biscuits, the tiny sugar crystals on top catching the orange light of the fire.
He looked at them for a long moment, as if he’d never seen one before. Then those eyes lifted to meet my own, a stormy grey of indecision. Probably between reprimanding me or simply kicking me out.
But I didn’t care. A ghoul wasn’t a nice foe to face and I should have been more careful with such dark things. Blackthorn had enough to burden him without worrying about me sending ghoul attacks his way.
‘I’m sorry,’ I confessed. ‘I … I didn’t know what to do.’
That admission felt like a weakness. How many times had I stumbled into danger with no way out, knowing I’d only be blamed if I sought help? My survival depended on perfection, and all I seemed capable of was making mistakes.
He sat back in his chair slowly, pen clattering onto his notes, leaving a large ink splodge on his papers.
‘When you realise how brilliant you are, Croinn, I think we’ll all be in trouble.’ He sighed as he opened his desk drawer. Pulling something out, and placing it on the desk between us. Right next to my peace offering.
An old sweet tin that had seen better days, glinting in the firelight.
‘Show me.’ The command was soft and curious. His eyes suddenly crystalline, filled with challenge as he took a biscuit from the plate. A whoosh of relieved breath left me and a reluctant smile came to my lips as I reached for the sweet tin.
Show me.
So I did.
Chapter Thirteen
The dark calls all things back in the end. For to its master – all darkness must return. In those shadows deep beneath, it can be made anew. Awaiting its chance to rise, to reclaim what was taken. To sing the hymns of the Alder Kings. To awaken old gods and allow Verr to reign.
– Hymn to the Alder Kings – Unknown
All the next day thunder rolled in on dark clouds, forcing the fires to be lit early, and the day after, and the day after that. Emrys hadn’t appeared again after my lesson on ghoul capture. My days had fallen into the same routine as before: study, helping William, then pestering Alma to change back, while secretly hoping a mysterious lord made an appearance.
Only, no matter how many times I sat to take my meals in the kitchen, he didn’t appear again.
A crack of thunder broke above, as rain struck the study windows hard. Storms used to give me comfort, bundled up in the cottage with my parents. My mother telling stories and singing the ancient hymns of the fates, as my father refused to sit still, either returning rain soaked from training with his blade or filling the cottage with the warm scent of spices from his baking.
Now, storms only reminded me of being sat on a beach, the smell of smoke still in my nose as rain pounded my skin with icy strikes, waiting for someone to find me. Knowing the Council patrols would sense the magic I’d unleashed, the force of it.
A loneliness had sunk into my very bones with the icy rain that day. Remaining even now.
When you realise how brilliant you are, Croinn, I think we’ll all be in trouble.Emrys’s words tumbled through my thoughts more than I cared to admit. Fingers absently tracing my collarbone, feeling the warmth of my magic rush across my already flushed skin.
How effortlessly praise had fallen from his lips, especially considering how deadly my mistake had been. How it had soothed something inside me.
