Page 55 of Mountains Made of Glass

A rush of warmth burned my skin.

I took his tunic and slipped it over my head. There was an element of regret as his smell surrounded me, and it pulled at memories from long ago when I would climb to the roof of my parent’s cottage with my sister and watch as the sun rose, the morning light catching on the dewdrops, making our little hollow glimmer.

I used to think it was magic, but now I knew otherwise.

Magic was the darkness that existed between the trees, the place where light did not shine, and it had taken everything.

“Are you so regretful?”

I opened my eyes and looked up at Casamir, whose features were harsh but not angry. I could not tell exactly how he felt, but there was a tightness to his mouth and eyes that made me think that he was struggling, but with what, I did not know.

“It is not as if we can help what happened,” I said and looked away before I could see his reaction. I was too afraid to know what he was thinking or how he really felt. What if he regretted me?

“Will you not look at me?” he asked.

So I did. We glared at one another, a tension building between us that I could not exactly place, but it was hurt and angry and strange, and even with all those emotions, I still felt a keen desire for him.

“How much do you hate me now?” he asked.

I ground my teeth and lowered my brows. All I could manage to say was, “I don’t hate you…not for this.”

I did not think that would make him angrier, and yet his eyes darkened and his jaw ticked, and this time, he looked away.

“Come.”

We left and I remained a step behind him as he led me from the clearing in the woods where our madness had come to a head. He was shirtless and the muscles in his shoulders rippled with each tiny movement. His back was scored with red lines from my fingernails. I liked that I had marked him in some way, but the fact that others would see it andknowembarrassed me, though I wasn’t sure why I cared.

Perhaps it was because I was supposed to hate him.

I was supposed to hate him and…I didn’t.

Why don’t I hate him?

It was not as if he’d done anything to deserve my favor, but there had been a few strange and tender moments last night that had made me feel something beyond the cold anger that had seethed inside me for years. For once, I had not been invisible or forgotten or alone.

Casamir paused and held out his hand to halt me. The sudden stop made my heart race, and I looked at him as he spoke.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll only be gone a moment.”

Anything could happen in a moment within his woods, but I stayed where I’d stopped and did not move a single muscle as he vanished into the surrounding trees, returning a moment later as he had said with a red apple in hand.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to me. “It’s safe to eat. I promise.”

Promise.

I liked that word coming from his lips, and I wanted to hear it more. I should have said so, but the strain between us had only grown since we had begun our journey back, so I held on to those words.

I took the apple but only stared at him.

“What’s this for?”

He shrugged and looked a little uncomfortable. “I thought…you might be hungry.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. His actions were so contrary to what I had expected. But he remained very serious, so I pressed my lips together to keep quiet and then cleared my throat.

“Thank you,” I said, and I took a bite from the apple, which was crisp and sweet, noting that Casamir watched my mouth as I ate.

He seemed to realize he was staring and then turned away.

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