Page 32 of The Demon's Discovery
“I said go pack. You’re leaving with Mr. Feland.” Lara had interrupted me scrubbing my second floor of the day to tell me to pack my things.
My heart skipped and then stopped. He’d done it, then. I’d been cautious not to allow myself to get too caught up in hoping something like this might happen. “Ma’am?”
Lara clucked her tongue at me. “You heard what I said. He’ll be waiting. Go on!”
I put the hard-bristled brush into the bucket of soapy water, hastily drying my hands on my pants as I charged toward my room. The edges of the leaves on the detestable ring caught in the weave of towels, my clothing, my hair. I hated the damned thing, but there was no ridding myself of it.
Caroline had tried to help me remove it with soap, oil, and even a string. There was no getting anything between the metal and the skin of my finger, however, so I worried that the burn I’d felt that first day wasn’t just imagined. She’d even tried a pair of pliers, but as she pinched, it was clear we were more likely to break the tools or cut my finger than break the band.
It was far from the simple metal it appeared to be, and that terrified me.
There wasn’t much to speak of that was mine to pack, except some clothes and a handful of books. I gazed around the sparsely filled room, surprised to find I would miss it.
I opened the door to find Vassago on the other side, his hand raised as though he’d been about to knock. “Oh! Hello.” I felt my face warm and set down the single small case I’d been carrying. On impulse, I darted forward, and wrapped my arms around his neck, giving a light squeeze. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.” He pressed one hand into my back, his body warm against mine for several heartbeats until I stepped back.
“There’s no need for thanks, Greta. It is my pleasure. Is this everything?”
“Yes. I made sure to bring in my notebooks yesterday, just in case.” I frowned. “I never got to show you the maze.”
He picked up the case and waited while I took one last look around my room.
“We can always come back,” he offered, “if you need something or would like to visit someone. They’d of course be welcome at d’Arcan. It will be your home as well.”
I smiled at the thought, something bright flaring in my chest. This place had been my home for a long time, but it also had never been.
With one hand on my lower back, Vassago walked with me down the stairs.
“Are we going straight to d’Arcan?” I asked.
“Yes. Unless you have somewhere you’d like to stop on the way?”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t get to visit the city.”
“Never?” I shook my head. “We’ll have to remedy that.” He bumped into my back as I stopped on the first-floor landing, eyes focused on Bea’s open door. “Greta? Everything alright?”
“Yes, I just thought I might say goodbye.” I was frozen, however, feeling like an unwelcome onlooker as the two interacted, oblivious to our presence.
Watching Lara be maternal with Bea had always fascinated me. She was never my mother, that boundary had been in place as far back as I could remember, but she’d always been wholly devoted to the young woman I considered my little sister. Often to the point of overwhelm, at least for Bea. Unfortunately for me, I’d sometimes also needed a mother, even if the only one available wasn’t my own. Caroline and some of the other wonderful ladies on staff had taken up the role in their own ways, but it wasn’t the same.
Lara had Bea trying out different styles for the ball, and currently, a large oval gem hung around Bea’s neck. I couldn’t stop myself from staring, even though I desperately wanted to divert my eyes to literally anywhere else. I also wanted Lara to leave so I could give Bea a proper goodbye hug, though she and I had made a point to do so the previous few evenings, just in case it was the last one.
“You found it,” I muttered. “The necklace.”
“Mm.”
I could tell Bea wanted her hair down and Lara wanted to put it up. They were going to fight about it, and I wouldn’t be around to make peace like I had many times before. I thought she should wear a single fishtail braid with the end tucked underneath. It was my favorite way for her to wear her hair, but that would be too close to agreeing with Lara for either of our liking.
I’d always wanted princess hair for myself, and to me, that meant either the fish braid or the waterfall that Lara sometimes did on Bea; a delicate wave of a braid crossing from one temple to below the other ear.
My hands reached up to touch the blunt ends of my hair where it stopped just below my ears. The unruly curls had been short far longer than they’d ever been long.
Lara had never once put braids in my hair. Nobody had. In fact, my curls proved too frustrating to manage altogether. I struggled with getting all the knots out, mostly because she only ever gave me brushes and combs meant to be used on straight hair. The bristles would get gnarled in the strands, half of my head frizzy and wild, the rest a tangled mess. On the last day it was long, the maid that normally helped me had been ill. Lara, angry that I wasn’t ready in time to leave for some event, brushed it so aggressively I’d started to cry.
Her solution was to get rid of it altogether. She’d taken the fabric shears one of the ladies had left behind on my bureau while trimming the hem on a hand-me-down gown and cut all my curls off just below my ear. I’d cried all afternoon.
I’d been ten at the time, and already very aware of my place in the house. Her reaction had been meant to teach me a lesson. One I couldn’t forget.
Especially because in all the years since, my hair had never grown back.
