There’s nothing I can do to help him. Useless, everything I’m doing is useless. He’s lying here having an existential crisis, and I’m talking about the way the flowers arc with the curve of the windows and musing about what we should wear tothe ball.
A pest. That’s what any of my past relationships would havecalled me.
“Why can’t you just giveme space?”
“Can you be quietfor once?”
Moth’s hand squeezes minehard.The gesture pulls me away from my building anxiety and intohis arms.
“Thank you.” He squeezes my body to his, tucking my head beneath his chin. I exhale, leaning into this moment of security. Suddenly I’m safe and warm, snuggled as if I’m his own personal teddy bear.
“I literally haven’t done anything,” I whine. He’s the one who should be taken care of right now, not me. But then he cups my chin with the tip of his finger and thumb, forcing me to meethis eyes.
“Yes.” He strokes the line of my jaw with the pad of his thumb. “You have.”
I want to believe him. I really do. But how can just being near him really be enough? There’s got to be something else I can do to help.
It’s nightfall when we finally pull ourselves out of bed. It’s absolute torture not to ask Moth a million questions about his past. The fact that I haven’t eaten motivates him to sneak down to the kitchens alongside me.
“If you want some time, I can go alone,” I offer, but he shakes his head and follows me down the longhallways.
The bustling castle has stilled, and there’s an eerie sort of beauty that each empty corridor holds.
Though devoid of activity, the kitchen is still warm, and the scent of freshly baked cake fills my nose. It reminds me of Saturdays at my mom’s house, eating offcuts of cake while she tried to make something flawless enough to post. For all her flaws, she’s never been ahandful of almondskind of mom. We’d have slices of “ugly cake” with creamer-sweetened coffee for breakfast while watching some terrible reality show. The scent of flour and vanilla in the air makes me ache for the simplicity of those imperfect moments. But there’s no leftover cake here, so we’ll have to find something else.
Moth moves through the pantry with the ease of someone who’s been here a million times. I watch as he assembles an all-too-familiar plate of berries, chocolate, and sparkling elderflower water—our new favorite drink.
Moth raises a goblet to his lips, drinking deeply before letting his shoulders fall. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him since we arrived. Was this a place he often escaped to when he lived here?
“You have been very patient.” His deep voice is welcome after the long stretches of silence.Patient.I’m glad he thinks so because the mounting questions feel like they’re going to burst from my lips at any moment. I tense my shoulders, plucking what looks like a golden strawberry offthe tray.
Rocking back on my heels, I try to figure out just how to respond to him. I’m his girlfriend, and I want him to know he can come to me with anything, but I also don’t want to be pushy. “You know you can share anything with me, right?” I begin. “What you remembered in the cavern—if you want to talk about it, you know I’ll listen, right?”
“It is still hazy. I worry that if I speak now, I’ll only be correcting myself in a day’s time.” He holds his head, squinting as if trying to see into the past. “But thank you, my flame. If you could continue to distract me…”
“Oooh, is that what I’m supposed to be doing?” I put my hands on my hips, leaning in close. I wrap my arms around him, relieved when his strong arms envelop me.
He loves me back.
He obviouslyloves me.
So, why am I still feeling so freaking sensitive that he didn’t say it backearlier?
It’s not like he isn’t going through a million other things right now. Still, when he kisses the top of my head, I melt into him, savoring the feeling of being wanted and close.
“How should I distract you?”
“However you’d like.”
Hmm, that’s a challenge. Considering he seems to be remembering a traumatic event, seducing him doesn’t feel like the right move. We’ve been cooped up in the castle ever since we got back from the caverns—maybe a change of scenery is what we need. “Then let’s go ona date!”
“At this hour?”
“We could check out the night markets Oak mentioned. It might be nice to stretch our legs, get out of the castle for a little while—only if you’re feeling up to it.” I’m sure retail therapy does wonders for a troubled soul, no matter what realm you’re in.
“Yes,” he says abruptly. “I would like that.”
15.
