“Does it still bother you? Let me see.” Celesta was holding his hand between her own before he could even process her words. She held the palm upwards, turning it this way and that. He did his best to ignore the sparks that ran up the length of his arms as her warm fingers lightly inspected the wound and area around it.
“It’s fine,” he hastened to say. He had survived worse than a little cut in the hand.
“I don’t think it is. It should be healing by now.” The little pixie’s eyes were worried as she looked up at him. “I’ll add it to the list of things to ask Drosselmeyer about.”
She dropped his hand and led the way to the front door, pausing just after opening it to throw a wave over her shoulder to Briar.
“Have a nice day!” the fae called out. “Stop by anytime, Al.”
Alex gritted his teeth but managed to give a smile that might be somewhat convincing. He followed Celesta down the front steps and waited while she knelt to re-tie the ribbons on her slippers. She hopped lightly to her feet. “Alright, Al. Let’s go.”
“No.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t call me Al.” Childhood memories of the teasing and taunts that arose after his brothers started referring to him by the shortened moniker sprang to mind. He had always hated the nickname, but now that his brothers were gone the reminder was simply too painful.
“Why not?” Celesta looked at him curiously. Slowly her eyes widened, and Alex knew the moment that realization dawned. “Oh,” she drew out the word, bringing up her hand to cover the smile that she was fighting to keep down. “Al. Monde.Almond. Like the food.”
He sighed heavily. “I’m sure you know that children can be cruel.”
Something flickered in her eyes, and for a moment the brightness was gone, overshadowed by a pain that surprised him. “Yes. Being only half-elven and having a name with the word ‘less’ in it made things a little too easy.”
Alex immediately felt a twinge of guilt. His teasing had been instigated by brothers who, while annoying and infuriating at times, still loved him. It was likely nothing compared to the verbal abuse Celesta must have endured. It was easy to forget, with her sunny smile and happy demeanor, that she had likely suffered far more rejection and discrimination than the average person.
Her expression cleared quickly, and the little pixie grinned at him mischievously. “But it does suit you, in a way.”
He looked at her warily. “Why?”
“You’re so serious and grumpy all the time. You’re atough nut to crack, you know?” He could see that she was trying to keep her expression solemn, but first a snort, then a giggle escaped her as she finished saying the words.
“I’m not grumpy.”
“You are, a little bit.” Celesta held up her pinched fingers. “But don’t worry, I know that underneath thatshellis a soft heart. Donutfeel like you have to hide it from me.”
Alex gave her a flat look. “Are you finished?”
She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look, and he suddenly found himself distracted by how rich and warm the color of her eyes was, and how perfectly her hair fell to frame her face as she looked up at him. He found himself wanting to reach out and touch it, just to see if it was as soft as it looked.
“You should neversquirrelyour emotions away.”
The spell was broken. He shook his head and pushed past her, stepping out onto the rope bridge to begin the long trek back down to the ground.
“One of these days I’llcashewyou smiling and you won’t be able to hide behind that scowl anymore!”
Two could play that game. “Come on, Sugar Plum,” he called over his shoulder.
Alex ignored her sputtered protests, focusing all his attention on traversing the expanse of swaying rope and wood, but the smallest of smiles pulled at the corners of his mouth.
Six
“You’resuretheletterwill get to Drosselmeyer?” Alex held the door open for Celesta as she entered the post office. “Do you even know where he is?”
“I know he’s in Summer, which is enough.” She turned to the side towards a tall writing desk built into the wall. Shelves of differently sized paper hung above it with prices underneath, and along the side of the desk was a holder for pens, a pot of ink, and a small pot of sealing wax sitting over a short candle.
Celesta scanned the shelves before pulling out one of the smaller pieces of paper and composing her message. They were the only customers, and the room was silent except for the rhythmic scratching of pen on paper.
“There.” Celesta signed the missive with a large capital C and replaced the pen. She waved the paper gently in the air a few times before folding it with swift, precise movements. Alex wasn’t sure exactly how she did it, but somehow the single piece of paper ended up looking like an envelope by the time she was done. She carefully poured a drop of sealing wax and pressed it down with her thumb, then wrote the direction on the front. “Now we just need someone to post it.”
A large counter ran along the length of the room across from the entrance, with a door leading to a backroom behind it. The countertop was empty save for a till and a small silver bell with a sign that read, “Ring for service.” Celesta rang the bell and waited impatiently, bouncing on her toes.
The back door opened, and a tall man stepped out, wearing an ink-stained apron and pair of spectacles. He had fine features almost too pretty to be considered handsome, pointed ears, and a haughty expression in his dark eyes. Remembering Celesta's comment about elves and their sense of superiority, Alex guessed that the fae he was looking at must be an elf. One corner of the stranger's mouth turned down in a sneer when he caught sight of Celesta, and her legs immediately stilled.
