As if noting her discomfort, the beast turned his back to the table and promptly sat down on the floor. He leaned back, resting the back of his head against the edge of the table.
“What are you doing?” Isa asked.
“Not staring at you.”
“Thank you?” Isa said, unable to stop herself from staring at the back of his head. The thick brown fur looked unruly and soft. He was definitely less menacing from this angle. And once again, his gesture had a similar effect. Her breathing calmed.
“Do you mind telling me about the new paste you are using? Is it better?” he asked. “I am genuinely interested.”
“Previous attempts in binding proved unstable because the wheat paste can subject parchment to decay,” she said, continuing to stir the glue in her hand. “This made my father’s work rather useless, if the process he developed to protect these works only accelerated the chance of destroying them from the inside out.” She paused.
Aden sat quietly, listening.
She breathed. “He has been experimenting with a new type of resin made from the sap of an Etrarian tree,” she continued. “This new resin is supposed to help the paste dry completely but produce a less brittle texture.”
“And it has been working better?” Aden asked.
“It seems to be safer for the parchment. However, it dries more quickly, sometimes too quickly, making it more difficult to fix mistakes later on in the process. One should only apply it on a book if they can give the project their full concentration.”
“Are you applying it now?” he asked.
“I’m about to start,” she responded.
“Then I shall stop distracting you.” He stood, turning to face the table. “Thank you for explaining that. You have your father’s skill in more than one respect.”
Isa looked down, her cheeks unexpectedly warm.
“How is your father?” the beast asked. “I hope he is well?”
“Actually...” Isa looked back up at him. “He is not. I am here to fetch the Floutast in his stead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the beast replied. “I should have asked about him much earlier. It must be difficult to be away from your family, then, with no way to get back quickly.”
Isa nodded. A lump was forming in her throat, and she did not trust herself to speak.
The beast turned again and sat with his back to the table. “The Majis who cursed me was a councilor from Chendas,” he said. “The rose that you were holding this morning was... is part of the curse.”
Isa set the jar of paste on the table in front of her. “I take it I should not apply the glue right now?”
He chuckled, the warming rumble a comforting contrast to the gravity of his words. “You are right not to trust me.”
She stared at the back of his head, visible above the tabletop.
“My father has more recently been doubting the Council’s ability to provide any safety for our kingdom when the Majis do return. It was quite a shock to realize that a Councilor was secretly a magic-wielder. It would be just as shocking to learn that the Council has stooped so low as to threaten the quotidian without the knowledge of noble families.”
Isa listened intently, trying to understand all the information he was offering her. “How does the rose fit into all this?”
He dropped his head, looking at the floor. “When the last petal falls... when the rose dies... I go with it.”
Horrified, Isa ran around the table, dropping to her knees in front of him to see his face. “You are not planning on going to Chendas?”
He shook his head, refusing to look at her.
“Oh, Aden, I am so sorry.” She wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him. But what could she say in the face of such a hopeless destiny? “And I was standing there, shaking the rose like an idiot! I’m so sorry.”
Aden’s claws slid in and out of his paws as he clenched his hands.
She reached out to place her hand on his, but the image of a single rose petal floating to the ground came into her head, and she pulled her hand back in humiliation. “The petal that fell, I caused that.” Heat flooded her face, and she dropped her own head.
