And then more trees grew from beneath the fence, pushing it upright until it stood as if it had never fallen, trunks growing tight against the boards, living vines lashing it into place and decorating it with large, purple-edged flowers that faded to a creamy yellow center.
“Satisfied?”Rosemary said.
Corinthia’s whole being rang with magic.She didn’t want to stop, not ever, and could no longer see why pulling down her own house and growing a green cottage over it was a bad idea, until she remembered her beloved Beaufort nestled in his bed.So she held onto Rosemary but let go of the earth, the water, and the silvery haze that had, for a moment, made her forget herself.
They stood, basking in the new-made forest together.A pair of birds swooped in from the outside forest, curious to see what all the fuss was about, and landed out of sight with a sweet, whistling song.
Rosemary rested her head on Corinthia’s shoulder.She swayed once, twice.
Corinthia, alarmed, turned and caught a half-swooning Rosemary in her arms.“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Rosemary said, dreamily.“Just a little tired.”
Corinthia bore her up, one arm firmly around Rosemary’s waist, allowing Rosemary to lean against her as she guided their steps.Her backyard, so unremarkable before, now had tiny white sand paths through the low, twisted trees; a Castle Adventure in miniature.
It was a bit of a trick to open the screen door and get the drowsy Rosemary through it, but Corinthia managed.Years of pushing carts and carrying heavy books seemed to have strengthened her in all the right places.
One more door, into the kitchen, and there they were with Beaufort, who presumably did not know that he had nearly had his house replaced by a forest.He sniffed curiously around their ankles, galloped alongside as Corinthia maneuvered Rosemary into the living room, and then watched as she lifted her head at last and gazed happily at the papasan chair.
“Oh, look!”she said.“It’s a nest within a nest.”She walked unsteadily across the room, plopped into the papasan cushion, and curled her legs up.Her hands pillowed her head and her eyes closed.
Beaufort, ever the gentleman, hauled himself into the chair, back legs paddling briefly into the air before he worked his way comfortably into the crook of Rosemary’s legs.He laid his head peacefully on the side of her knee and looked at Corinthia with satisfaction.
Corinthia looked at the two of them.Who would have thought?
She took a blanket and pillow from the linen closet.She tucked the pillow under Rosemary’s head, gently moving her hands aside.She laid the blanket over Rosemary, leaving Beaufort uncovered.She hesitated, then carefully undid the clasp that held Rosemary’s cape closed, and loosened the cape from around her neck.Then she smoothed back the strands of hair that came loose.
Rosemary smiled in her sleep.
Corinthia stole a closer look at the metalwork and gems on the clasp.For the first time, she noticed that the leaves and flowers shaped into the design were all plants from the Refuge.If Rosemary was only telling a story about her true nature, it was the most beautiful fabrication Corinthia had ever encountered.
She carefully tucked in the blanket and left the bird-woman to her dreams.
22
Thesmellofhotfood woke Corinthia the next morning.She opened her eyes to the golden light of the Saturday sun, the sound of the television, and something sizzling.Who could be cooking?Not Rosemary, certainly.She had no kitchen and no experience.The whole kitchen could be aflame in moments!
Corinthia threw off the covers and hurried out of her bedroom, her dream of flying alongside a scrub jay rapidly fading into the reality of the day.
A cooking show played on the living room television.Outside, in what had previously been a grass and sand backyard, stood a chunk of forest, bright green in its newness.
In the kitchen, Rosemary stood over the stove, turner in hand, while Beaufort stood sentry a respectful distance away just in case anything edible hit the floor.His tail whipped back and forth in a hopeful manner.
“You’re up!”Rosemary said, waving hello with the turner.Her hair was pinned up cleverly with jeweled combs, and it was almost unfair how cute she could look in one of Corinthia’s dress shirts—stolen, jauntily tied at the waist to reveal a bit of belly—and a pair of shorts that might have been denim if Corinthia didn’t already know for sure they were a beautiful approximation made from blue-gray silk.
Corinthia came to a stop.“Are you… cooking?”
“I watched a TV show.”
Corinthia moved closer.Yellow scrambled eggs nestled in the hot pan, just a tick of the clock away from being fully set.“But you’ve never cooked before…”
“I’m a quick study.”
The corvid family, Corinthia had learned—which included crows, ravens, and jays—was indeed known to be extremely intelligent.“Let me help you.”
“Sit down,” Rosemary said.“You’re always giving me your best chocolate.This is the least I can do.”
Corinthia, unaccustomed to taking orders or being idle in her own kitchen, did not move.She didn’tintendnot to move; it was as if someone had planted her deeply in one spot and she could not figure out how to get herself free.
