“That’s alright, Little Dove.” Silas ran a hand over the piano, leaning against it wistfully. “I heard that you have been helping the town with illnesses. Coughing, aches, pain, all the basic medicine.”
“You disapprove?”
“No, not at all. Ebony simply was telling me that you were studying hard on various plants and herbs. You’ve become very efficient at coming up with a simple fix to yesterday’s conundrum. It’s an impressive skill to have.”
“Thank you. I must admit I had a teacher who taught me most of what I know. Fills the time, and I can be of better use to the community since I—well, since I—”
“Can’t kill me.”
I grew abashed. “Yes. Although it is by far the one skill I was to have, I do find it useful to have, but it is not what I had expected for myself.”
I strayed a few notes. The ache of the dream of playing in a concert hall has been etched forever into my soul. The gathering crowd clapped as I finished piece after piece like the many other famous pianists. I thought of playing as simple as breathing untileverything was put on hold. Like that, my dreams were gone the moment we’d discovered what Father did and what Mama had to do—what I needed to do for the McCallister name.
“Why is it that you are showing me this? If I remember correctly, you said the west wing was off limits.”
“I did, and yet you had broken it several times, but I suppose if I was angry this would be an entirely different conversation.” Silas slid down onto the bench next to me and pressed a kiss to my hand. I watched as the ruby gems sparkled under dying light as Silas rested upon the black band. “Let’s... let’s start over, shall we. I have been neglectful in my marital duties to you, as I have been so consumed by this curse business. Even though you still think of me as a beast, I am still your husband. As such a declaration, I am gifting you access to this space and my laboratory to use how you like.”
He dug into his pocket and produced a set of keys of black obsidian. “The west wing will yield to your command and show you the doors you wish to enter. These will make it so you are not lost.”
The beast bowed his head, casting a halo of glow from the evening light. The same beast I had been calling a monster for months bowed his head and released my hand to the piano, the keys clasped in my palms. I did not want to fight the illusion any more than I was of the man set aflame by the dying light with the singular thought eclipsing my senses.
I wanted to touch that light.
“This is lovely,” I said, the heavy weight of the keys settled across my lap. “I don’t know what to say.”
Silas lifted my chin, meeting his soft gaze. “Don’t. This is yours to do as you please.” He dropped his hand, shuffling out of the bench and standing. “I will see you for dinner in a few hours. I’ll send Ebony to fetch you when it’s time.”
Silas turned, making his exit known, and I, stupid as I was, grabbed his shirt and croaked out, “Wait!”
Face flushed, I was startled by the fact the last time I had been this close was when I attempted to kill him. His lips still seared across my flesh, humming with electricity ready to explode and consume me in a grand blaze.
I choked it all down. “Can you keep me company just for a while?”
Silas cupped my cheek, pressing a light kiss to my head. “I thought you would never ask.”
Hours passed in that little room, the clock tolling the hour reminding us the dinner was upon us.
I closed the cover of the piano, and Silas stashed his book away before escorting us down to the dining room where we took up our seats. He was still covered in the blue streaks, his image different from the pulled together man who had greeted me time after time at this table.
I still was in the tan blouse and dark trousers I’d worn to the market on such a chilly afternoon, a starkcontrast to many nights. Both were so different from the start of our little relationship. My stomach grumbled, and food materialized out of the veil. Steam rose off a bowl of soup, mingling with the smell of spice that dotted the pool of reddish hue, potatoes and carrots floating with chunks of red meat.
Grabbing my spoon, I dug in, savoring in the warmth and comfort of the stew.
Silas sat back in his chair, his standard wine glass in hand, with his head resting on his fist. “I guess you did not eat while you were in town?”
I swallowed, shaking my head. “I try not to stand out too much. It’s harder to explain where I am from if I have to interact with the townspeople.”
I left out the part where the weekly markets were the only times I truly interacted with the townspeople, and even then, I was always met with suspicion.
The man from earlier came to mind. I tried not to wince at what would have happened if I had told him the truth. That I dine with what they considered the enemy. The glass perched between Silas’s fingers held crimson liquid that sloshed along the sides, streaking down the crystal in thick streaks.
I placed my spoon down onto the table and felt queasy at the very budding question he held in that glass. “Silas, can I ask you something? It’s about the townspeople.”
I did not want to upset him after the nice evening we shared, but I had to ask it before it burned through me in awful unpleasant ways.
Silas perked, his movements were similar to a cat. Graceful and elegant, leaning back and sipping his wine—or what I wanted to believe was just that. “What would that be, Little Dove?”
“Well—I um—it’s—where do you get your blood supply from? You say you don’t drink from the townspeople, but there have been many deaths, some of which they think you are responsible for so I—” I fiddled with the rose ring on my finger. “Then there are the nights that you come in covered in blood. I don’t know what to think.”
