I mean, everymonth? That just couldn’t be true.
CHAPTER 20
In Which, with the Heft of My Biceps Restored, I Am Heaving Buckets and Swinging Mops Like Never Before. In Which I Sometimes Do Pretend that My Mop Is a Sword, and Practice Flourishes in the Air. In Which, due to the Flung Droplets from Said Flourishes, My Hair Smells Very Much Like Mop Water.
Ihad worried that Merulo might be less attentive to me after my transformation. In fact, the opposite proved true. He began to neglect his books.
I’d be scrubbing the floors, humming a jaunty tune, then look up to see the sorcerer feigning surprise. As if it were pure coincidence that he’d chosen this particular corridor to wander through—and coincidence that a construct had, minutes earlier, scuttled by to flash its eyes at me.
“The kitchen servants have something new,” he’d say. “Something with ginger. If it’s of interest.” And I’d rise to follow the tail of his black cloak, leaving my washrag to mildew on the floor.
“I can only stay for a moment,” he’d say. But I’d smash a plate against the wall and, well, more than a moment would pass.
One evening, we sat in the library—him in the tall-backed chair he favoured, me on a cushion at his feet, my head resting against his knee. I pretended not to feel the gentle brush of his bony fingers, afraid that acknowledgement would lead to embarrassment. Still, I gave myself away, leaning back into his fingers with a sigh.
He retracted his hand. “I’m—” he said, then stopped, strangled.
I opened my eyes, and twisted to look up at him. “You’re what?”
His thin lips contorted like worms. A muscle in his chin twitched. With horror, I recognized something like fear in his face. “You’re too . . . aghh!”
“Aghh?”
Energy thrummed through him, vibrating his legs, but the sorcerer was still gentle as he pushed me off his knees and stood. “I’ve fallen behind in my studies.”
“Sorry.” I scooted back to give him space, cloaking my nerves with a grin. “I suppose I’m partially responsible for that.”
“You are entirely responsible. That is the problem.” He strode toward the library door.
“But it’s not a problem, is it? We’re just . . .” The wheels of my mind ground to a halt. “If it is a problem, then I don’t have to bother you so much. But it’s not an unsolvable problem, is what I’m saying.”
Merulo hesitated at the door, gripping the handle with white knuckles. “It is not unsolvable.”
“Then . . . let’s solve it!”
“I may have to.” He threw open the door with somethingnot unlike anger, and disappeared through it with a sweep of his cloak.
My jaw hung open as I waited for the gears in my skull to begin whirring again. On the ground, the historical archive I’d been pretending to read lay discarded. I brushed it off and carefully reshelved it.
“I can’t help but feel there was subtext,” I muttered, aligning the book’s spine with its fellows. “But he’s fairly blunt, isn’t he? He’d speak his mind.”
Feeling better, but not entirely soothed, I made my own departure from the library. It always felt eerie in there without him—like a menagerie cage without its captive manticore, all bare lonely bars.
And it had given me an uneasy sampling of how hollow the world felt without him.
CHAPTER 21
In Which Worry Is Knitting My Insides into Something a Lady Might Wear as a Scarf. In Which I Am Present in the Moment and Cherishing the Gift that Is the ‘Now,’ While the Nauseous Lump that Is the Future Tries to Work Itself through My Mouth. In Which I Really, Really Am Trying.
Ishielded my eyes from the sun. The breeze carried salt from the sea below, where waves foamed and splashed, first pounding then sucking back from the rocky cliffs.
I maintained a respectful distance from the edge. And not just because of the dizzying drop—I felt certain that if Idid fall, those churning currents would keep my corpse dancing forever beneath the surface.
I pointed at the water below. “Would all the salt pickle me?”
Merulo frowned at me before understanding. “Fish would eat you first.”
I scrutinized his reply for any trace of temper, but failed to find it. If anything, he sounded playful. Nothing of his latest tantrum remained.
