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Blackbird sighed and Starling pointed to yet another samovar of hot chocolate and a platter of cupcakes, cookies and other sugary treats. And a bowl of popcorn. No wonder Walt looked so out of shape. I took a handful of popcorn to soothe my growling stomach, feeling cranky that my promise kept me from turning the food into something more decent.
“You’re really certain you can defeat him? He seems so powerful.” Starling twisted her fingers together.
“Yeah,seemsis the key word there. And I’m not going to defeat him, we are.”
Later that evening as I prepared for bed, Darling already crashed out on the one pillow, Thumbelina came in. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure—what’s up?”
“A couple of things. First, why do you call me Thumbelina?” She pronounced the English word pretty well, all things considered.
“Well, because you didn’t have a name and I didn’t want to call you ‘Hey Girlie’ all the time. And you reminded me of this fairy girl character from when I was young. Why—do you get a funny image?”
She screwed up her nose. “Yes. I see this tiny fairy with blue hair sitting in a flower cup looking all pretty and cute.”
I sat on the side of the bed. “That about sums it up all right.”
“I don’t want to be that.”
“Okay. What name do you want? I’m happy to call you whatever you like.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. You choose.” She pointed her dagger at me. “But this time, choose someone smart. And tough.”
“You don’t need to carry that knife around, you know. I don’t think anyone will bother us tonight.”
“That’s the other thing.” She tugged her hair tie loose, the powder blue ringlets springing around her head and falling to her waist. “I want you to cut this off for me.”
“Really? There was a time in my life I would have killed for curls like that.”
“But not now, right?” She gave me a keen-eyed look. “It’s not what you choose for yourself, I notice.”
“Perceptive.”
She plopped herself down on chair in front of the cold stone fireplace and handed me the dagger over her shoulder. “Cut it short and spiky. Like the outfit looks.”
I took a long, shining ringlet in my hand. “You’re sure?”
She clenched her hands into little fists against her slim, leather-clad thighs. “Yes. Get rid of it.”
Deciding not to point out that Blackbird or Starling could have done this and likely done a better job, I sawed through the curls one by one. Deprived of the weight, the couple inches of hair left behind stood up in tufts. With grim satisfaction she eyed the blue corkscrews falling to the floor. Darling even roused himself to bat one across the stones. “Good riddance,” she muttered, making me smile.
When I finished, she looked punk all right. With the short, wildly chopped hair, her lilac eyes looked even more enormous in her face. But she’d lost that flower-blossom innocence. Something of her shrewdness showed through, making her eyes clear and sharp instead of dewy.
“And a name?” She demanded.
“You sure you don’t want to pick one yourself?” I asked, but she was already shaking her head.
“No. You choose. You’re the one who knows.”
I wondered what she meant by that, how she saw me. Of course, I’d carelessly bestowed her with the silly Thumbelina moniker, I could make up for that now.
“Athena,” I decided. “The clear-eyed goddess of both craft and war strategy. It’s a big name. I think you’ll wear it well.”
“Athena.” She tasted the word and held out her hand for the dagger. “Yes. I like that. It will do nicely. Until tomorrow, Lady Gwynn. I can’t wait to see Walter’s face when you pull the rug out from under him.”
She left, still a bit of that skipping to her stride, Darling following after. We’d left the doors between our warren of interconnected rooms open, for the comfort of each others’ company, and I heard Starling exclaiming over the new hair while Blackbird tutted.
It didn’t surprise me that, when I dreamed that night, instead of slogging through the sand, I climbed glassy slick slopes instead. Over and over, I climbed, reaching the ridge only to slice my hands to ribbons when I grasped the sharp edge. My blood ran crimson and hot, steaming like the hot cocoa, pouring down the clear glass.
