I’m so caught up in the story that I lose three hours to it. Stella would have been obsessed with this sequel. I lovedACOTAR, but the follow-up is even better.
Sometimes it’s the little things that pain me the most when I think about what she missed out on due to her life being cut short. She died just months beforeA Court of Mist and Furywas published, and realising this brings on a rush of emotion. There’s no point in trying to stifle my grief tonight – it needs a release. I close up the book, curl into a ball and let myself cry.
I end up falling asleep and forgetting to set my alarm, so I’m in a panic when I wake up and see that it’s four forty-five and I only have fifteen minutes to get myself outside to the walled garden.
But by six o’clock I’m in the swing of it, chopping backbright pink geraniums, purpleNepetaand the other herbaceous plants in East Court that will put on a second flush.
I’m just getting my bottle of water out of my trug when I see Beca coming in my direction.
My heart lurches unpleasantly. What is she doing here at this hour?
‘Oh! Hello,’ she says, her eyes widening at the sight of me.
‘Hi,’ I reply warily as she slows to a stop.
She’s more classically beautiful than I remembered, with fine facial features and pale blonde hair floating past her shoulders.
‘You’re here early,’ I say, my senses on high alert.
She looks awkward. ‘I stayed over.’ Her voice sounds husky as she adds, ‘Hit the tequila a bit hard.’
I stare at her, reeling. She and Ash did tequila shots the night they first slept together.
How can I be doubting Ash? I’m even less secure in our relationship than I thought.
‘I’d better go,’ she says, making a move to walk away. ‘Maybe see you sometime,’ she adds hesitantly.
‘Yeah, maybe,’ I reply.
She carries on towards the car park.
My stomach is churning, but I force myself to work for another half an hour before breaking for tea early. I don’t go to the Mess Room; I head straight to the cottage. I left in such a hurry earlier that I didn’t even check my phone, but now I see there’s a missed call from Ash – he rang at 10 p.m. but didn’t leave a message – and a text he sent at just after midnight.
I read the text.
Hey, sorry it’s late. Just to say that things went well tonight but Beca’s pretty drunk so she’s crashing in a guest room. All good though. Miss you. Speak in morning.
The flood of relief I feel is immense. I reply right away.
Only just read your text. I saw Beca leaving earlier. What time should I come over?
It’s so frustrating that he has no reception up at the cabin. It could be hours before I hear back from him. Resentment begins to simmer at how on edge all this is making me feel. I decide to take my phone back to work and hate myself for it. There is no chance that I’ll lose myself in gardening today.
But as soon as I arrive at Maple Garden, my phone buzzes with a message. My stomach falls when I realise it’s from Ash. How does he have phone reception?
He’s answering my question about what time I should come over.
As soon as you finish work?
I reply immediately.Where are you?
It’s a few moments before his response comes.
At the house, having breakfast with my mother.
I feel as though I’ve been scalded.
You and Beca both stayed there last night?
