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“Hey. What happened back there?” he says, jerking his head toward the house.
I shrug. In truth, I’m not sure how to respond to him. His questions are too simple for the answers I’d have to give.
As the minutes drag on between us in silence, I can feel him growing impatient. Cyprian rolls his shoulders and neck, his movements straining the fence so that it groans under the added stress.
“Come on, you can tell me,” Cyprian presses, nudging me in an attempt to draw my eyes back to him.
Annoyance flares to life in me as I turn toward him, ready to give him an earful.
Until I meet his eyes.
The snappy words die on my tongue as I swear that I see genuine worry and care burning within his gaze. For a moment, he almost looks sober as he stares down at me.
Biting my cheek, I find myself suddenly on the verge of telling him the truth. Of giving life to the words that I’ve long since buried deep within myself.
Cyprian and I have never been close, he’s always preferred keeping to himself, and I’m not sure why I feel the urge to spill my guts to him. To tell him how miserable I’ve been since his mother and brother came into my life.
How hard it has been not to grow hateful as the years passed. How nothing has been right in my life since they entered it and began changing everything.
At first, it had meant bidding farewell to the stable boy, my sole childhood friend, and his mother who had taken over as our cook and housekeeper after mother died. Then, it was being moved to the smallest room at the back of the house. The one with a broken window that let the chill in during Winter and the bugs in the rest of the year.
Next came the chores. The rising before dawn to tend to the tasks Merelda deemed too lowly or too womanly for her own sons.
This was only half of it, and I would have born it all with a smile for the sake of Father’s happiness, but then she took him away from me too … and I was forbidden from traveling with him again.
My father fought her on this, but she wouldn’t budge, claiming that having a young woman with him invited scandal upon us and could ruinherreputation, not to mention his.
So, it was settled, and I was forced to remain here under her watchful eye. Utterly and completely alone in the world, with only my cruel step-family to torment me, should they remember I even existed.
Slowly, my father’s monthly trips turned into more and more, spanning greater lengths of time as he was forced to travel further to accommodate Merelda’s expensive tastes.
Now, most weeks slip by without him being here. My days spent missing him as I tend to the endless chores Merelda finds for me.
With this unexpected trip, I’m starting to worry that he won’t return before my birthday. I was being childish, as my stepmother was all too willing to remind me, for wanting him to be here to celebrate the day rather than out providing for the family.
But I know that without him, the day will slip by without mention.
Perhaps I am selfish for wanting what I lost the moment he brought Merelda into our lives. For longing for the days when it was just the two of us.
Had I known then just how precious those moments were, I would have hung on a little tighter and fought a little harder to keep them from slipping through my fingers. Now, all I want is just one more day spent with Father as it had once been.
A single tear slips down over my cheek, startling me back to the present. I hadn’t realized the depth of my heartache until now.
My eyes shift to Cyprian, who’s still watching me. For a moment, there’s a strange awareness in his own gaze.
The haze of alcohol that I’ve become all too familiar with rises as he turns and lifts a hand toward me. Flinching, I see the pain on his face at my reaction.
His hand freezes just inches from my face as though he’s finally realized what he was about to do.
“Hazel,” he says, his voice a rough contrast from the softness of his eyes.
“Well, isn’t this sweet.”
Cyprian drops his hand, though I fear it’s too late. Looking past him, I watch as Amadeus steps into view. He smirks as he glances between me and his younger brother.
Clapping a hand on Cyprian’s shoulder, it takes a second for me to realize he’s misread the situation and mistaken my tears as his brother’s doing.
“How did you do it?” Amadeus questions, though his eyes never leave me. “I suspect it wasn’t hard, she always does seem to be on the brink of tears as it is. Perhaps you should try smiling sometimes. Don’t you think she’d be prettier if she smiled for us, brother?”
