“Poppy?” Maeve calls softly, her voice muffled through the curtains surrounding my bed. “You awake?”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. Then I take another shuddering breath and open my mouth to tell her that I’m up, that I’m fine, but all that comes out is a stifled sob.
Immediately, the curtains are drawn back, revealing Maeve standing there, the dreary gray light coming through the window casting her in dull winter shades.
I straighten up a little, dragging a blanket with me. My arms shake. I can’t seem to stop trembling. “I... I just...” My throat tightens, and the words stick there. I don’t want to cry anymore—I cried off and on all day yesterday—but the tears come anyway, silently sliding down my cheeks.
Maeve sits on the edge of the bed and takes my hand, warm and grounding. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. Her storm-purple eyes search my face, and she lets out a sigh. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let you tutor him in the first place.”
I shake my head once. “No, it’s n-not your fault,” I say around my tears. “It’s no one’s fault.”
A few tears drip from my chin and fall onto my blanket, turning the lavender comforter a darker shade of purple.
Maeve reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, then pulls me in, not so unlike how Alina held me that night that I awoke from my nightmare about Aric leaving me alone in the ballroom.
Like all my other dreams, it had a shred of truth in it. A terrible, painful shred of truth.
“Whatever happens,” Maeve says, her voice warm and comforting in my ear as she holds me against her chest, “we’re going to be here with you. And you’re going to get through it, even if it hurts like hell right now.”
I nod, but I don’t know what to say. When I returned to our dorm room yesterday after Aric broke up with me, I told them everything—or what I could say through my tears,at least. They all abandoned their textbooks and studying to console me, and Alina must’ve made me six cups of tea while Maeve combed my hair and Lyra stoked the fire in our hearth, chasing away the winter cold that’s settled into the castle.
“Why does it have to feel like this?” I whimper, my fingers curling into my comforter as if I can use it to hold myself together.
“Because you have a big heart, Pops. Because when you share that with someone, when you let them in, you’re taking a chance that you might hurt later.”
“I-I hate it,” I whisper. My lips taste salty from my tears.
Maeve laughs softly, and her chest rumbles beneath my ear. “I know. It’s one of the reason I’ve sworn off men.”
That gets me to crack a tiny smile. Sniffling, I pull back, and Maeve tips her head at me, her glossy purple hair shining even in the dull gray morning light.
“F-forever?” I ask.
She puckers her lips into a thoughtful pout, then shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. Guess I haven’t met a man who’s made me want to take a chance on him yet.”
I wipe the tears from my eyes, wincing a bit at how raw they are, then whisper, “You will. I know it.”
Maeve laughs again, then takes my hand and squeezes it. “My love life is nonexistent, so let’s focus on you instead.” Her gaze flicks over me, quietly assessing. Then she says, “Let’s start with a bath, then breakfast. And remember, it’s the first day of finals week.”
I’d typically be excited for finals week. I love the energy of it, the way the castle gets quiet as everyone buckles downto focus on their studies, the way the library is always full of students and the scent of ink and paper. But today, I feel numb to it all. Though a bath does sound nice.
“Come on. Let’s go to the bathhouse.”
“Are Alina and Lyra here?” I ask as I push my blankets back and shiver a bit in the cool air.
“I sent them to get us food from the dining hall. They should be back by the time you’ve bathed. So hurry that butt up, Pops. Can’t have your biscuits going cold.”
Finally, she gets me to crack a real smile. And even though my body aches with grief, I let her usher me out of bed and into my first full day as a newly single girl.
The girl Aric Vandermere broke up with.
Chapter 50
Poppy
I WRAP MY CLOAK TIGHTER around my shoulders, ignoring the snowflakes melting into the thick fabric. The courtyard is a pale, frozen gray, the cobblestone paths slick and quiet beneath my boots. Snow drifts lazily from the sky, settling on ledges and the bare branches of the courtyard trees. Above me, the towers of the castle become lost in heavy low-hanging clouds. I try to keep my gaze forward, counting my steps, letting the cold sting distract me from the ache in my chest.
It’s been three days since Aric told me he wanted to take a break, and while I’m grateful I’m not crying myself to sleep anymore, the numb pain that’s settled inside me almost feels worse. And these dismal gray days aren’t helping. I feel as frozen inside as the icy fractals that creep across the castle’s stained glass windows. And like the winter, it feels like my pain is here to stay.
