Page 105
“Elara, I carried no such intent.” Walker places her hand on Elara’s head, smoothing her strands. She slides her palm down to the side of Elara’s face, her fingers resting against the curve of her cheek to tilt her chin upward. “You possess many wonderful dresses, and you look beautiful in all of them.”
“Like mama?”
Walker chuckles. “Like her.”
They look ahead together. A group of three children runs in a circle, giggling while they chase each other. The children are older and taller than her. Walker’s expression softens at the sight, admiring the shared joy.
Elara swallows, extending her foot forward to step onto the stone and approach them, wanting to ask if they wish to share their game. Gaining the confidence, she nears the group. “Can I play with you?”
The children stop, their smiles fading while their brows fold into furrows. The girl with golden hair and warm skin speaks first, her gaze sweeping over Elara’s small frame with a snarky look. “You are too small to keep pace with our circle, and your long skirt will leave you tripping over the stones.”
The two older boys stand behind her, their chests shaking while they laugh along with the dismissal. The first boy points to Elara’s shoes, his grin widening to match the girl’s mocking expression while they step back to resume their game, leaving Elara isolated on the pavement.
They turn to take their leave. Elara sniffles. “But mama told me these were prettier than my other shoes.”
She turns to find Walker’s eyes on her, her expression saddened. Elara almost starts to tear up, turning her face away to watch the other children play. “I wish I could have fun like them.”
“Dear, how about I play with you?” Walker offers.
Elara exhales, her bottom lip trembling. “But I want kids my age to play with me. Why do they not like me?”
A moment of silence passes between them. Walker guides Elara back onto her seat, stroking through her dark strands. “Kids know no better sometimes. You do. That is why you are the better person.”
Elara only nods, considering Walker has said the same words during their last outing. Walker turns away for a moment, searching for something, while the sound of sniffles echoes from somewhere nearby. The giggles and the chattering disrupt the noise, leaving her frustrated. She tries her best to focus on the sounds.
Another sniffle.
She looks up at Walker, making sure the woman is distracted, and takes the chance to look away. When she does, Elara takes the opportunity to slip off the bench, rushing toward the familiar path of the eastern conservatory fountain. The space stands as something Aline took her time to grow and arrange, a small spot of sanctuary her mother shared with Elara four days ago.
Squeezing through the thick trees, Elara hears the familiar sounds of the water running from the fountain, splashing against the stone basin. Nearby one of the furthest trees sits a boy. His knees are curled against his frame, his black hair messy, and his clothes are entirely black, decorated with silver chains. His face is buried in his forearms.
“Are you crying?” Elara asks, taking a hesitant step forward.
The boy’s sniffle pauses, his head rising to meet Elara's gaze. His eyes are a storming gray, piercing under the intense light.
Elara frowns. “Your eyes. It looks like they are storming.”
The boy does not speak or move, bringing his hand to wipe his tears. He turns his face away, avoiding Elara.
Her heart aches at the second rejection today, and tears swell up in her eyes again. “I am not bad. I only wish to make a friend.”
It takes the boy a moment to look up at Elara with his tearing eyes. He does not smile, the hard tension in his shoulders easing.
Elara’s fingers curl against the skirt of her dress. “I am Elara.”
The boy only stares. He opens his mouth, but then seals it shut into a thin line. She does not take it as a rejection. Her lips turn into a reassuring smile, taking a step closer to the boy while leaving a wide distance.
“Do you want to be friends?”
Elara’s eyes snap open under the warm candlelight of the private space, her breath catching in her throat while the fragrance of jasmine and the fountain waters dissolve into the dark air. The throb behind her temples recedes, leaving the smell of aged ink and the physical reality of the parchment in her hands.
She looks down at the booklet, then shifts her gaze to the portraits on the walls. The truth lands with absolute clarity, dismantling the remaining walls of her defenses. The silent child in the garden, the boy she thought feared her presence, stood as the single soul who never rejected her offer of friendship. His written words proved her worth, showing she remained his anchor through fifteen lonely summers.
Tears stream down Elara’s cheeks, staining the paper of the booklet below her. She quickly stands, reaching for the other paintings and more poems. Kneeling down, she finds another painting of her now. It is where she is looking forward, her eyes glimmering with hope and the background being a simple light green paint. The feature she recognizes first on the painting is the golden locket on her collarbone. It is detailed. Important.
Elara shakes her head, her eyes blurring. “How could I forget the only person who did not reject me? How did I not realize?”
A sharp explosion from afar echoes again, the rumble fading into a heavy silence. She wastes no time and stands, her heart urging her to find Cael and ensure his safety. She places the canvas aside, her breathing shallow while her fingers catch the silver doorknob.
