“What was that?”
“Nothing. Just chastising my busybody plant.”
“Your…”
“He’s special. Alive in a way that’s different from… other plants. Sentient, maybe…”
His eyebrows pinch together and curiosity lights up his face as he stands and approaches Lemakis. He examines the plant, then reaches out a hand. His finger strokes a lavender leaf and Lemakis very slowly expands all of his branches in delight. I think.
“He likes you…” I mutter.
Daegan chuckles under his breath, his attention on the plant for a few more moments before he returns to his seat.
I turn and grab the filled glasses, then face my guest again.
He’s mindlessly twirling his eyebrow stud with two fingers. When I reach him, he glances up at me as I hand him a glass. He pauses, then he pats the spot beside him. “Sit.”
I do as he commands.
“So… what brings you here tonight?”
He takes a huge swig of his drink, then sets it down on the table, taking a deep breath. He focuses on me again. “Well, I can tell you’re not exactly… comfortable with this arrangement. I wish there was another way but… no one could come up with anything better.”
There wasn’t a question in there, so I don’t say anything.
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he continues softly. “So I’m here to try to help with that.”
“How?” I ask.
“You can start by taking a sip of that drink.”
“I already had a head start,” I tell him. But I take a big swig anyway. “Now what?”
“Give me,” he says, reaching out for my legs.
“What?”
I let out a shriek as he pulls my legs up and places my feet in his lap, twisting me so I fall back against the arm rest. He begins to rub one with his long, rough fingers, and I’m too surprised to do anything about it.
He looks over at me with a crooked grin. “Drink,” he orders again. I do. Somehow, I didn’t spill any when he repositioned me.
I don’t know what’s happening. How is this supposed to make me more comfortable?
“When I was seven,” he begins, looking off into the distance. His shift in tone immediately makes me relax and focus more on what he’s about to say. It feels great. I stare at his beautiful side profile, waiting for him to continue. “My mother got really sick. We had no idea why. Well, we had an inkling. People in our homeland had been getting mysteriously sick for centuries, but we were still no closer to figuring out why, exactly. The only explanation they’d ever been able to come up with was that the curse was causing it.”
He pauses for a minute, mindlessly kneading the bottom of my foot with his thumbs. I continue to watch his face as he looks into the past.
“She died a year later.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He glances at me. “Thank you. I barely remember her face anymore, but I know that I loved her, and she loved me tremendously.”
“My mother died in childbirth.”
He meets my eyes, and his are swimming with genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry too.”
“It’s okay.”
