Sighing heavily, I wipe off my hands on my jeans and stand. But when I turn to step down, the joint rolls weird and I stumble. I hiss loudly, grumbling a series of repeated curses. I hunch over and rest all of my weight on my good ankle, my hands braced on my knee.
“Are you okay?” Adriel asks, worry making his voice raise an octave.
“I’m fine, just stepped weird.”
“Nonsense, you will sit and I’ll make a poultice which will help take away some of the pain.”
Bobbing my head, I decide there’s no point in arguing. He rushes off into his home while I slowly limp my way toward his little sitting area. He returns and lays out a series of furs to create a little nest for me. Very carefully, I prop myself up when Adriel gestures for me to do so.
It would have been so much easier if he was able to help me down, but that’s not going to happen.
Adriel disappears again while I work off my boot and sock, returning with a bowl of mixed herbs and other stuff I can’t even begin to name. He muddles the mix together until it makes a thick paste.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to apply it.” He hands me the bowl, his expression turned down as shame and sadness waft off him.
“I understand, and it’s okay.”
I don’t think he believes me because he sighs exaggeratedly before he sits off to the side on a stump.
“It’s not, but I appreciate your kindness,” he whispers.
Knowing he doesn’t need my words or reassurances right now, I focus on putting the poultice on with his guidance. He hands me a patch of cloth to wipe off my hands with when I’m done and prop my leg up on the only chair.
He stands eerily still, aside from his eyes tracking every nuanced twitch of my muscles. It almost feels as if he’s memorizing each of my reactions. But why?
One second he’s doing the super hot, but totally weird assessment of me, and then he’s dropping my bag at my side and retreating to his garden.
I sigh heavily again, something I seem to do a lot when he’s around. Running my fingers through my hair, I try not to allow the hurt of his blatant dismissal bother me. Should, honestly, be accustomed to it by now.
Reaching into my bag, I pull out my most recent book. It’s one of the dark fantasy graphic novels I’d been eyeing at Abraham’s bookstore, but I don’t remember buying it. Perhaps he snuck it into my most recent pile of books because I found it on my bookshelf tucked amongst the other books.
After a couple of chapters, I close the book with my finger holding my place. Trying to focus on the words and beautiful drawings turns out to be too much for my distracted brain to accomplish. The handsome and mysterious stranger twenty feet away from me keeps owning my thoughts.
“Why do you only garden at night?” I ask, breaking the silence.
At first, I’m not sure he heard me, but when I look close, I can see that his back has stiffened and his hands have stilled.
Well, shit. Now I’m even more curious about his answer.
When he doesn’t answer, and feeds Ludo a seed, I assume he isn’t going to. I’m about to return to my book, hoping he’ll answer when he’s ready.
“Y-you don’t have to answer. I was just curious,” I mumble when I open my book again, to give him an out. I say it so softly, I’m not sure if he hears me.
He pushes up from his kneeling position and sits on the same stump from earlier. At this proximity, I can see the way his cheek muscles keep jumping as he clenches his jaw. He runs his hand down his face, looking more exasperated than I’ve ever seen him. But the way his eyes bounce everywhere except at me makes me wonder if the annoyance is more internal than aimed at me.
“It’s not that,” he whispers with a sigh. “Part of this…”
His voice trails off, and his nostrils flare as if he’s fighting a losing internal battle.
“Curse?” I supply for him, closing my book and giving him my undivided attention.
His eyes widen, and he dips his chin in thanks. “It prevents me from speaking about it.”
I open my mouth and then click my teeth shut, processing his words. “Let me get this straight. So you can’t tell me who cursed you, why they cursed you, what all the curse entails, or how to remove the curse?”
His shoulders slump and he seems to almost shrink before me. Like the weight of this curse is physically pushing him down. “Correct,” he finally says, his voice laced with pain.
Once again, I want to reach out to him and console him. But I know I can’t. And I hate it.
