Page 58 of My Faire Lady

I pluck a metal ring from the box, ease the ends open, and thread four rings onto the hoop.

After a beat of silence, Scarlet lifts a knee toward her chest and rests a forearm across it. “When I was ten, it snowed for three days straight. I was cooped up the entire time and absolutely bored out of my mind.”

My hands fall into an easy rhythm, linking metal rings together. The flames crackle on the wicks, lighting the easy, nostalgic smile that spreads across Scarlet’s face.

“When the snow finally stopped, Boden insisted that we go sledding. But I had never gone sledding, and we didn’t have any sleds.” She laughs under her breath. “That didn’t stop him from climbing the fascia of Queen’s Gate and unscrewing the metal signs. It would’ve been easier to find something like trash can lids, or the shields we sell in the armor shoppe, but Boden insisted the signs would make us go the fastest. We trudged through the knee-deep snow with them over our heads, all the way to the edge of the land where a steep hill dips toward the creek.”

I smile at my hands and sift through my own memories. I remember that snowstorm, how grandma dug two plastic sleds out of the basement for Kelsey and me to take outside.

“By the time we climbed the top of the hill, we were both out of breath and sweating. I set my makeshift sled down and sat on it, but my body froze. As I looked down the hill, where a tree line stood below, I was so scared I couldn’t breathe.”

I finish off a row of the chains, and pause, settling my hands in my lap. I study her and the far off look she has in her eyes, reliving the moment.

“It had only been a few months since I lost my parents, and Boden hated the snow. I had been keeping to myself, holed up in my bedroom processing their deaths, and I knew Boden only drug me to the top of the hill so I could feel something other than grief. But I just sat there, unable to go down.”

The rings tap together as I set them on the ground. “What happened?”

“He sat down next to me, in the snow, and said it’s okay for me to be scared. But it’s what I do with that fear that determines the rest of my life. I could let fear win and hold me back from living, or I could face it and choose my own future.”

My lips curl, warmth spreading in my chest. In the brief conversations I’ve had with Boden, he’s always seemed wiser beyond his years, if a little meddling. But everything he’s ever said has come from a place of kindness. And, despite the jests he aims toward Scarlet, it’s obvious he cares about her.

“Did you go down the hill?” I whisper.

“I sure did.” She lies on the quilt and turns on her side, using her arm for a pillow. “Screamed the whole way down.”

We share a small laugh, and her eyelids grow heavy—weighed down by the day.

I swing my legs out in front of me. “Do you still let it hold you back? Fear?”

She studies me, and the flames paint her hair crimson. She rolls onto her back and looks at the ceiling. “Sometimes fear is there to protect you.”

And that’s what this is. I can try and spin it however I want—that we’re avoiding something more because we work together, or because our time together is sand falling through an hourglass. But those are all excuses. It all boils down to one thing—fear. Fear of getting too close. Fear of letting the other in, just to be torn apart. Fear of heartbreak.

Perhaps it’s best to let fear win this time.

Minutes tick by, punctuated with the tapping of metal rings as I pry them open and string them into a chainmail shawl that will sweep across Scarlet’s shoulders.

By the time I set it aside, wax has dripped from the edges of the candle and pooled around its base. Scarlet’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, her hands clasped over her stomach.

I watch her sleep. There’s something so peaceful about it—the way this woman, who I’ve seen in armor more often than not, can fall into an easy, peaceful sleep.

A thud hits the door.

I stiffen, digging my fingers into the sleeping bag as my gaze swings toward the noise. It could have been debris flying through the wind. Or a tree limb falling.

My heart pounds in my throat, and I glance at Scarlet, but she’s fast asleep—undisturbed.

A scratch comes from the door, followed by a whimper, and a sigh comes from my chest.

It’s only a dog.

I jump to my feet and dart across the floor toward the door. If there’s a dog that wandered onto the property, it’s bound to be soaking wet and freezing.

I twist the knob and yank the door open.

Wind shoots through the doorway, and I stumble back as a pit opens in my stomach. A creature blinks its yellow eyes and rises to its hind legs, lips curling away from rows of razor-sharp teeth.

An otherworldly howl resonates from the back of its throat and echoes across the flooded quad. Before I have a chance to slam the door or scream or run, it hooks its claws into the front of my shirt and throws me down the steps.