Arthur nodded. Ira let go, but his gaze lingered as Arthur put the shaving kit away.
“I don’t like you because you’re of use,” he said.
“Then why?” Arthur asked, because he couldn’t imagine another reason someone outside his family might like him. That was, in large part, the reason he tried so hard to be useful. The reason he felt so defeated by his uselessness. Surely, if onlyhe were useful, people would see how worthwhile he was—surely he wouldbeworthwhile—and he would have friends.
“I spent thirty years in winter.” The moss was gone, but Ira’s skin, where it had been, was faintly green. “When you came, it felt like spring. Like you woke me up.”
Arthur opened his mouth but closed it again without saying anything. At every turn, he half expected Ira to stop speaking to him. Like he would suddenly realize what a crime it was for other men to be friends with Arthur.
Instead, Ira said things like that, as if they were obvious. As if Arthur was worth something tohim, never mind what anyone else thought.
Arthur settled carefully on the fur, facing Ira but leaving plenty of space between them. Ira gave a small smile. It was really something, Arthur thought, how such a smile could light up his grim face that way.
“I feel like,” Ira said, “when I’m with you, I’m... me again. Like the drawing. I’d almost forgotten how much I used to enjoy it, it’s been so long since I had anything new to draw. But then there was you, making all those faces when you fixed the watch, and then while you were reading, and I just—it had been so long since I felt like Ihadto draw, but suddenly I had to.”
Arthur prickled with embarrassment, imagining the expressions he might’ve made without being aware of it, but Ira’s face was still illuminated with that small, soft smile. Ira, it seemed, not only didn’t mind the way he sank into his work, or a book, but liked it. Arthur’s embarrassment faded.
“But since it seems so important to you,” Ira continued, “youhavebeen useful. Like I said, I wouldn’t have left the vale, if not for you. I...”
His smile faded. He picked at the fur.
“Seeing Maud... It’s been a long time. If the sickness had taken her...”
He picked harder, digging into the fur with a claw. Arthur scooched closer and laid a hand over his wrist.
Ira stopped picking. “I just wonder what might have happened to her if I’d stayed away any longer. What’s happened to all the rest of the forest. I’ve been so afraid to leave the vale, and now it’s all...”
His fingers clenched. Arthur squeezed his hand.
“I’m the Lord of the Wood.” Ira sounded bitter, whether because he preferred to be, as he’d said in the vale,just Ira, or because he felt like he no longer lived up to his title, Arthur didn’t know. “I’m supposed to protect the forest. Instead I hid away in the vale telling myself I couldn’t leave if the forest wouldn’t let me. If you want to talk about uselessness...”
Arthur touched his cheek. Letting out a breath, Ira relaxed into his hand. That frantic fluttering was back, but Arthur ignored it, stroking Ira’s cheek with his thumb. Before, Ira had seemed to want to make him feel better about himself; now he hoped he could return the favor.
“You’re doing something now. That’s all that matters.”
Ira hesitated. “What if we don’t make it?”
Sitting up, Arthur laughed ruefully.
“The only certainty is that nothing will change if we don’t do anything. I know that much too well. Do you know, I’ve always dreamed of change—always. I spend so much time daydreaming about what our lives could look like if we moved to Port Lorne, or if I were a different man. But I never do anything about it. I always hope a change will drop into my lap—even that something dreadful will happen, and I’ll beforcedto change. Anything rather than do it myself.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. A blond lock tumbled over his forehead. Settling beside him, Ira brushed it back into place.
“I’m always so afraid that whatever I do won’t make a difference,” Arthur said, “that I never do anything. When Mrs. Livingston offered to send me to Port Lorne... I should’ve said yes right away, but I didn’t because I was so afraid. That’s no way to make a change, is it?”
“Why now?” Ira’s hand lingered at Arthur’s temple. “Why this?”
“I’m planting a tree.” Arthur smiled faintly. “I may not be able to do much, but surely I can do that.”
“There’s all the forest to get through first.”
Arthur’s smile faded.
“Yes. That is a concern, I admit, but—that’s what I have you for, isn’t it? Besides, it’s not just me this time. At home, I told myself—well, I didn’t tell myself anything, really. I pretended everything was fine. But if I thought about it, it really only mademeunhappy. Moving to Port Lorne might have been good for the family, but I told myself it was too expensive to be worthwhile. At least in Seacliff we knew what our problems were. This...” Arthur let out a breath. “Lottie’s in the forest, and I haven’t the slightest idea how to go about finding her. But if I do this—I can make sure she’s safe, wherever she is. And...”
He met Ira’s gaze, briefly, with a smile.
“If I can help you, too, so much the better.”
