Hestia nudged him with her elbow in response to such an inelegant introduction.
Finn Sr. turned toward her expectantly, and Finn Jr. left her to come up with some excuse. He walked straight to Marigold and William and asked what it was they were discussing so secretly.
They had inched further and further toward the open door, perhaps unconsciously, away from where the other revellers had crowded to snack on desserts and chat.
Marigold looked lovely, partially, Finn thought, because she looked so happy.
She knitted her hands together.
“I’m a bit embarrassed, but I was just telling your brother what I told you earlier–a bit of my story.”
“About your former husband?”
“No,” Marigold said.
“The man you were in love with?”
“Yes,” Marigold said unflinchingly. “We were never married.”
“I see.”
Finn was disappointed. His arrival seemed to have sucked all of the air out of the room. How to recover?
“But you said it wasn’t true…your love, right?”
“No, not at all,” Marigold continued, as the three of them formed a triangle.
Eager not to let the conversation falter now that he had finally arrived here, Finn said whatever came to mind–as Marigold seemed to–without meditating on his words first.
“I sometimes find that, when I am upset or nervous about one thing, all of my energies seem to concentrate on another thing…they circle, like birds of prey around a piece of flesh. It is as if I come to believe, illogically, that all other latent problems will be solved if I can just accomplish this one…” Finn looked up, into Marigold’s eyes. “Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense,” she said, without dropping his gaze. “It’s uncanny, really, to hear my own experience described so perfectly by a perfect stranger. I believe that’s exactly what happened to me. My parents both died during a fire in the war. The same fire that killed the notorious fire kingdom warrior, Oak’s, family.”
William and Finn nodded their recognition.
Marigold continued. “And Henri–obsessing about him, that seemed to take the place of whatever grief I was experiencing for my parents. And now that I know all of that supposed love to be an illusion, I find myself thinking more and more of them. Feeling the grief I was supposed to feel.”
William gave Finn a quick glance. Their mother had died when Finn was a young boy, and all of the rest of the family claimed that Finn had never truly mourned her.
“The mind can be a scary thing,” Marigold finished, picking up her drink and taking a hearty sip from it. “It can be a cage.” She laughed. “Perhaps that’s why I find myself gravitating to this open door…this open space. I pretend my mind is like that. With doors, where fresh air can get in.”
William gave an understanding nod. He told Marigold that he was building a house on this property, and not in town, for the feeling of freedom it gave him. When the house was finished, he said, he could look out of his window and see nothing but greenery.
Marigold told him that it all sounded wonderful.
But Finn got the feeling that William had somehow missed the mark, in attempting to relate to her.
Chapter Five
Marigold
Marigold hadn’t reallyattendeda party in years. Sure, she had been present at palace balls when it was required. But at those balls, she had wandered around like a ghost, joining groups but not listening to what was said, and certainly not contributing anything herself. Marigold later believed that her husband and the fire king, Topaz, intending to be kind, explained her behavior as shyness, and suggested that those who interacted with his wife try not to bring her out of her shell if she clearly wanted to stay hidden.
But at this gathering, on the outskirts of those magical kingdoms that were always clashing, Marigold found herself actuallyinvolvedin many conversations, and she was surprised to find that her thoughts were interesting to people, and that now, she was interested in others. Talking to a person could be like opening a book, if one could remain unselfconscious enough to read it.
But she was exhausted. After speaking with William and Finn in the garden for an hour or two, since they had migrated to be in the open air, despite the chill, Marigold felt that she had two options: go upstairs to bed without saying a word, or seek out her host to thank him. While it was exceedingly tempting to disappear, Marigold reminded herself that she had already done that lately, and with a pang remembered her children. To distract herself, Marigold first thanked Rosemary for the meal, then went to the patriarch, Finn Sr, to introduce herself.
“I understand that Rosemary often takes in travellers,” she began, quietly, so that Finn Sr could finish the meal he had only just begun to eat, “and I am happy to be one of them. It was a lovely evening. Thank you, sir, for your hospitality.”
