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As they entered the sitting room, where Ashwood led him to a wingback chair, he was feeling more emboldened and curious than ever before.
He glanced around the space, which was plain and sparse but clean. He didn’t expect much more since Ashwood had essentially been hiding here out of convenience. He noted his slight limp again as he went to the hearth to add a log.
Soon enough the chill was gone, the room felt cozy, and it dawned on him that he’d never had the occasion to be with Ashwood in this way. Even though they’d always dreamed of it.
“Do you enjoy living on your own?” he asked because he’d never done so, and he wondered if he would feel lonely. Moon Flower was always active, and he shared sleeping quarters with other lads. Sometimes he craved the kind of comfortable silence he’d had in his mother’s presence, when they would spend their evenings reading or playing near each other.
“There’s a certain comfort to it. To know your routine and your place.”
Bellamy nodded as Ashwood sat down in the chair across from him, nearest the hearth.
“To not be beholden to someone—someone who doesn’t care whether you live or die only that you do their bidding,” Ashwood remarked, and Bellamy knew exactly whom he was referring to. The freedom he felt at Moon Flower was not something to take for granted.
“Remember when we dreamed of a life that kept us safe and happy?” Ashwood mused.
Bellamy’s cheeks felt warm. “How could I forget?”
“I thought perhaps someday I could live a simpler life somewhere near the countryside.”
He rubbed at the stitch in his chest. “Oscar said that Azriel and Galen now live in a little cottage in Solar’s Edge, surrounded by a field of lavender.”
Ashwood’s eyes softened as he looked off in the distance as if picturing it. “I’ve grown quite fond of wildflowers.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Bellamy asked.
Ashwood walked to a chest of drawers and pulled one open. He lifted a book and placed it on the table beside Bellamy. “Sometimes when I’m in the woods…after…I collect things.”
“Such as?”
“All sorts of things that I press into this book.” He opened to the first page. “It’s silly, honestly, but it helps pass the time.”
“It’s not silly.” As Bellamy leafed through the book, he was struck by the idea of Ashwood in a field of wildflowers, reveling in the beauty of it. “It’s quite lovely.” There were many things preserved on the pages, even ferns, moon flowers, and milkweeds.
“I used to do the same at the orphanage, but I haven’t in a long while.”
Bellamy was enthralled, perhaps because it gave him more insight into the man Ashwood was—before their falling out. When he turned to a page with an unusual green, leafy plant with red around the edges, his memory felt fuzzy as if he should know what the flower was. “And this?”
Ashwood looked at him funnily. “Dragon’s Blood, of course.”
“Oh, yes. The plant Madam Langley used to make the potion to cure violet fever.”
“Exactly.”
“She tried to treat me with it.”
“Yes, I know,” he replied morosely. “And unfortunately, it only made you weaker.”
He drew back. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Dragon’s Blood is toxic to our kind.”
He gripped his chest. “I didn’t realize…did Madam…”
“It’s not the madam’s fault. It’s an obscure detail, and the effects were not immediately apparent,” he clarified. “But I did let Oscar know in no uncertain terms.”
And now a memory came back to him of the madam hovering over him, distressed, apologizing over and over again. He wondered if she felt great guilt over it, enough to allow Ashwood to heal him. Or at least try.
“Seems your madam is quite fallible, after all,” he said with an edge.
“Surely it was the sickness ravaging my body, not the Dragon’s Blood,” Bellamy said, attempting to redeem the madam.
“Yes, of course.” He seemed flippant. Too flippant.
“I could never blame her.” Bellamy clenched his teeth. “She’s done so much for me. You don’t know anything about—”
“Then tell me about them. Please. I’d like to know more…about your friends at Moon Flower.”
There was a mix of longing and melancholy in his expression, and Bellamy realized Ashwood never had that—people he could trust and consider family. It saddened him greatly, and he thought maybe before they parted, he would encourage Ashwood to seek out the packs of wolves he’d come across in the woods, if only for camaraderie’s sake.
“Well, you already know Oscar and his big mouth”—Bellamy smiled to himself—“and there are other lads who are funny and kind and grouchy too. But we all have one thing in common.”
“And what’s that?”
“None of us had any place to call home or family before. Say what you will about Madam Langley, but she saved us all.”
Ashwood was silent for an elongated moment then cleared his throat. “The way you describe it, it actually sounds nice.”
