Page 36 of Chaos and Crowns

Odelle narrowed her eyes at Drew. “When did you get so wise?”

“I have been having a good amount of deep conversations with you and your sister recently,” Drew joked. “Maybe I should start charging an hourly rate for my therapist services.”

“A therapist, a chauffeur, a physician. You’re a man of many talents,” Odelle agreed.

“Somebody has to save you from your horrendous parking jobs,” Drew agreed as they pulled into the impound lot.

Odelle spotted her little red sedan sitting in a corner and made to open the door, but Drew stopped her.

“Before you go, do these questions have anything to do with a certain Smith?”

Odelle sighed and slumped back into her seat. “Indirectly.”

“I’d say you should talk to him about it, but I know that is easier said than done.”

“Because you’re having a hard time talking to Thad about it?” Odelle asked, giving him a look that clearly conveyed she had seen plenty of their flirting.

“Something like that.” Drew rubbed at his beard. “But maybe do what I say and not what I do on this one. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised if you bring your feelings up with Antony.”

Odelle nodded and gave Drew a quick hug before getting out of the car. “Thanks Drew.”

She was three for three on people telling her to give Antony another chance to explain his rejection. He just had to wake up first.

* * *

The next several days after work, Odelle found herself sitting at Antony’s bedside. She didn’t remember deciding to do it, but each evening, her feet invariably carried her to the park and through the portal to the Sanctuary. She told herself on the first day that her concern was just what anybody would have for the person who saved them. Still, she became very comfortable in Antony’s rooms.

Often, Seraphina or Thad would join her, telling her stories of the Eteria in its prime. Not the glorious tales of battles Odelle had heard from Nora, but small adventures like accidentally discovering the hallucinogenic effects of flowers, and then the ruckus that had been caused when Antony’s pet peacock at the time had eaten some of said flowers.

One night, Odelle found herself alone in her normal seat. Her nose was buried in a book she had brought with her. Heat bloomed in her cheeks as the scene she was reading took a spicy turn. She glanced up on instinct, used to reading on public transportation and checking if anybody was watching her. Instead of a judgmental looking grandmother glaring at her from across the bus, copper curls and a calmly sleeping face greeted her.

Odelle closed the book with an audible snap. The last thing she needed was for the man in her novel to be wearing Antony’s face in her imaginings. It would invite dangerous thoughts to read a steamy novel at the bedside of the man she was clearly too interested in for her own good. Odelle didn’t want to encourage those imaginings about Antony until he could at least have a conversation with her about where they stood.

Feeling restless, Odelle pushed to her feet, pacing around the large room. She had lasted longer than Nora would have, not poking around Antony’s things too much, but today the urge to know him better combined with itching under her skin was too much to fight against. She stopped pacing to look around.

Antony’s love of purple extended beyond his clothing to his decorating, as if his identity as a Smith and the associated color had to permeate every area of his life. Not as if Odelle wouldn’t have known Antony liked to build things without the amethyst bedding and drapes. All the flat surfaces in the room were strewn with an even layer of gadgets and trinkets—or small cogs and springs that used to be part of some deconstructed items. Odelle paused by a workbench, shimmering red light catching her eye. The bench was scattered with tiny rubies, a pair of fine tweezers resting by the gold ring that was to be the gem's future home. Gingerly, she picked it up to examine. Stars decorated the gold band, an open setting in the center of each where the ruby would rest. It looked similar to the wedding band that Adam now wore on his right hand, from when he and Nora had been married in a prior life. Odelle raised an eyebrow and made a mental note to ask Antony if this ring had an intended purpose. Putting the jewelry down, she turned to survey the rest of the room.

On the wall opposite the closet stood a stately wooden wardrobe, door ajar as some fabric spilled from within. Curious, Odelle pulled it the rest of the way open to peek inside. As expected, yards of violet fabric hung, composing what Odelle assumed was Antony’s endless supply of peplos, although they didn’t really look like clothing as much as squares of material. What caught her eye was the line of gowns hanging at one end. As she rifled through them, she let out a low whistle. Gowns like this would set her back a month’s rent in the city. Dreamy blush silk draped like water from a halter neck, shimmering crystals decorated the high neck of a black chiffon grown, and peacock feathers lined a sweeping turquoise skirt that nipped in narrowly at the waist. She hoped that Pags, Antony’s pet peacock, had willingly donated his feathers to the cause.

Odelle couldn’t help the sigh of longing that slipped past her lips when she looked at the last dress. Golden laurels decorated the shoulders of crepe so white it seemed to cast its own light. Unable to help herself, she pulled the dress out of the wardrobe. Turning it, she revealed a legendary train and a back so low it made even her, with her adventurous fashion taste, blush. She held it up to herself, seeing that it looked to be the right size. She glanced over at Antony’s sleeping form before putting the dress back in the wardrobe. It was one thing to poke through his things, it was another thing to play dress up with them. Still, it was interesting to know that he had taken up sewing in his millennia in the Sanctuary. That, or his fashion taste was much more adventurous than she would have guessed. Odelle wasn’t one to judge.

Odelle settled herself on her stool once more, propping her chin on her hands. Everything in this room reinforced Antony’s character as being gentle and creative, the tender soul that had drawn Odelle in when they first met. His boundless curiosity and tendency to see beauty in utilitarian objects was all at odds with the cold way he had rejected her months ago. His words telling her she wasn’t the type of women he could be with. Words that Odelle had taken to mean that he wouldn’t consider being with somebody who wasn’t a member of the Eteria. She wanted to believe that Nora was right, that something had been lost in translation. Still, her pride shied away from pushing the issue, afraid of reopening a wound that had already scabbed over. Now she wondered if wounded pride was worse than wondering what might have been if she didn’t allow herself to be vulnerable again.

Odelle went home earlier that night, running over in her mind what she would say to Antony when he woke up, but nothing seemed quite right.

16

On Saturday morning, Odelle still hadn’t figured out what she wanted to say to Antony when he woke, which was unfortunate since she walked into his room, only to pull up short at the sight of him sitting on the edge of his bed.

She froze in the doorway, mouth hanging open and heart hammering in her throat. Antony froze as well, looking for all the world like one of the statues in the courtyard: carved from marble and lovely in a way that endured through the ages.

The silence was broken by a gurgling noise, not unlike the call of a humpback whale, from the direction of Antony’s stomach. A mortified look crossed his face as he stared down at his belly. A laugh gurgled up the back of Odelle’s throat, and before she knew it, they were both laughing, the tension between them dispersed like fog in a strong wind.

“Breakfast time?” Odelle teased.

Antony nodded emphatically. “Thad told me I’ve been asleep for almost a week, and I feel like I haven’t eaten in at least that long.”

“What do you want?” Odelle asked, knowing he must be starving after only eating the broth Seraphina had spooned diligently into his mouth. Drew had offered to bring a feeding tube, but Seraphina had seemed horrified by the idea and insisted on doing things the old-fashioned way. “You can have anything, my treat. It’s the least I can do after you put yourself in a coma to save our lives.”