“Ah.” I chuckle. “I can see how limiting that would be for you.”
“Quite so. And my dream to be an illustrator had already taken root by then. The roots were thin, but they were there.”
“Then how did this happen? Were you forced into it?” It takes all my restraint not to strangle the pillow again at the thought of her being coerced.
“I wasn’t forced. I was drunk.”
“Drunk? I’ve never known you to be unable to handle your liquor.”
“Yes, well, it was your fault,” she mutters.
“My fault? How so?”
“Hmm? No talking. Hold still.”
My mouth is stuck open. I know I heard her right. She said her inebriated state was my fault. But if this happened last Lughnasadh, we weren’t…
The truth strikes me like a blow to the chest. Last Lughnasadh was shortly after I was fired from Fletcher-Wilson.
When I hurt Daphne with my dismissive goodbye.
Could it be that she was so upset by my cold words that she drowned her sorrows in booze and wound up engaged to this Clyde bastard?
“Doesn’t the fact that you were drunk negate the bond?” I ask. “You couldn’t have been in the right mind to consent.”
“This is a matter of magic, not law,” she says. “My best bet to dissolve the handfasting is to bring proof that I can no longer fulfill mating vows. I must state, in full truth, that I have strong ties here in Jasper. Hence marriage.”
“Aren’t your ties already strong enough? You have a job and an apartment.”
“I can exit both without much lingering attachment. I must be able to state that my roots in Jasper are strong. I hoped advancing my career would serve that purpose. My next performance review is at the end of July, and Mr. Fletcher may promote me to full-time illustrator. If that ends up happening…” She heaves a wistful sigh. “Then I can say, without an ounce of deception, that my career is important enough to keep me here.”
“But you’re afraid that won’t happen,” I say. “Which is why you’re considering marriage.”
She nods. “Mr. Fletcher didn’t promise to promote me, only that he’d consider it based on my performance with this commission. And I can’t rely on any hope that Clyde will agree to dissolve our bond of his own accord. He’s always been in love with me, and I never gave him the time of day. Until last year.”
“Did you…uh…” Why the fuck am I asking this? I shouldn’t ask. Don’t ask. “Did the two of you…what I mean is, did he take advantage of your inebriation? Physically?”
She gives me a look of pure horror. “You mean did we mate? No. He’s like a brother to me. For one reckless moment, he seemed safe, that’s all. Someone who would…stay with me. No matter what, even if it could never be romantic on my side.”
Another invisible blow strikes my chest. He’d stay with her. Unlike me, who left her in such a curt manner. I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ve gotten yourself in a proper pickle, Daph.”
“That’s what I have you for.” She gives me a halfhearted grin. “Now I mean it when I say no talking. It’s time for your face.”
I groan. Thankfully, she lets me shake out my arms and legs. But when it’s time to return to my position, she presents a greater challenge.
“Look at your invisible lover like you want to ravish her.”
I frown at the blank space before me, then rework the muscles in my face to form something like a passionate stare.
She snorts a laugh. “You look constipated.”
“Daph!” Heat crawls up my neck, though I can’t help but laugh too. “This is harder than you think.”
“Can’t you pretend you’re looking at something you desire?”
“I’m not an actor,” I say, though I’ve been a capable pretender in the past when it has served my purposes. When I want someone to dislike me, I act unlikeable. When I want someone to see me as a heartless rake, I give them a heartless rake. Yet, for some reason, when it’s just Daphne and me, it’s hard to put on any kind of false persona.
“I’ll see what I can do.” She leaves her easel and scampers into the kitchen. I watch her through the partition of ivy, witnessing as she climbs onto her countertop and kneels before a bowl of fruit. Again, I’m amused at how much of her unseelie behavior she’s revealing. “Do you like apples?” she calls out to me.
