“I don’t know that I can, or should, respond to that,” she said. She turned back to her work table. She didn’tnottrust him, but she couldn’t afford to speak ill of the Council.
“Can I sit here for a moment before I head out?” he asked.
Isa nodded. “Yes.” She opened a jar of her father’s new gum paste and laid out the tools she would need to start building the first cover.
Behind her, the beast pulled out a chair and sat down, setting his pack aside. “Shouldn’t you put those in some water?” he asked, pointing to the roses lying on the table beside her.
“Is it important that I keep them alive?” she asked, confused.
“Well, no, you can do whatever you like with them,” he responded. “But supposing you did want to keep them alive for as long as possible, what would you do?”
“Put them in water,” she responded. It seemed as though he just wanted to delay his departure.
“That’s it?”
“That’s all I know of caring for cut flowers. If you don’t want them to die, then you shouldn’t pick them in the first place.”
He nodded.
She turned back to her work table and once again stared at the leather in front of her. Flustered, she twisted the square around to view the markings from a different angle.
She picked up the jar of paste again, but her mind refused to focus. She could not apply the quick-drying glue unless she was clearly focused. No matter how hard she tried to ignore them, she kept noticing the roses on the side of the table. Perhaps if she put them in some water, she could focus.
She made a quick dash to the kitchen for an empty jar. As she reentered the library, the beast looked up from his book. His squinted eyes tracked her movement in a feral way, making her feel like his prey.
“Stop that,” she said, angrily giving him a wide berth as she made her way back to her work table.
“Stop what?” he asked.
“Staring at me!”
“I was just trying to make out your face,” he responded, his eyes still glued to her.
“Why does everyone stop to stare at my face?”
“Is something wrong with it?” he asked innocently.
“I wish there was!” she said, hoping he had rested enough to get up and leave.
The beast stood from his chair, lifting it easily from the back and rotating it. When he sat back down, his back was facing her work table.
Isa stared at him for a few moments. That was not exactly what she’d had in mind, but it was surprisingly effective. The simple fact that he was not staring at her instantly calmed her racing heart.
With the roses sitting happily in water and the glaring gaze of the beast removed, she could focus on her work.
Lifting the jar of paste again, she vigorously stirred its contents to recombine the liquid with the heavier resins.
“That smells odd,” the beast said. Getting up from his chair, he sniffed loudly as he crossed the room to her worktable.
“It’s the binding agent for the hardcover,” she said.
“I watched your father at work in Chendas,” the beast said. “His craftsmanship was incomparable. If I recall correctly, though, the paste he was using had a, uh, softer smell to it.”
“That would have been the old wheatpaste glue,” Isa responded. She handed him a different jar.
He sniffed it, the whiskers on his nose fluttering with the slightest movement. “Ah, yes, that is more familiar. So, what are you using now?” He handed the jar back to her.
Isa turned away from him, spending longer than necessary arranging the jar amid the items on the other end of the table. She was suddenly reticent to share her knowledge. Why should she explain a concept if he was just going to talk over her with some fact he learned while studying in Chendas?
