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Then, too late, I realize her eyes have become drowned in unshed tears as she lifts them to meet mind.
"What is wrong?" I demand, worry making my voice sharper than I had intended, making me wince as she flinches.
"No, nothing is wrong," she says.
"Then why are your eyes wet?"
She gives me a shaky smile as she quickly lifts her hand to wipe away the tears.
"It's just that I can't seem to remember the last time that I was given a choice."
Rage unfurls within my chest, burning through me at her response. Without giving myself time to pause and consider, I allow it to drive my response. Closing the distance between us, I lean down reaching one gloved hand to lift her chin toward me as I look her in the eye.
"As long as you are a guest in my home, little creature, your time is yours to do with what you please. Do whatever it is that brings you pleasure, or simply spend them doing nothing at all," I say, my voice as gentle as I can make it. "Unless the Fates, or I, have great need for you, then you are free to spend your days here with me as you please, understood?"
She gives me a small nod, and I drop my hand as I straighten.
"Good. Now, tell me, what is it that you would like to fill your days with?"
She tilts her head slightly in thought before meeting my gaze again, my own having tilted to match hers as I realize I am curious to hear what she says. A small smile tugs at her lips, and I find my attention drawn to them for a breath.
"Paint," she answers, the word soft and nearly breathless. "I would like to spend my days painting."
"Hmm."
I consider this for a moment, then I give her a nod and take a step back. It was hard to ignore how her breaths had become shallow as I drew near, or the way she struggled not to recoil at my touch.
Or how much I disliked that she did, but now is not the time to care about such trivial things. Not when I have paints and canvas to get for her.
"I will see what I can do," I say, stopping short of speaking her name, before once more turning to leave the kitchen, and her, behind.
16
Hazel
Death sweeps from the room as I wipe the back of my sleeve across my eyes once again.
A wave of guilt washes over me at the fear I'd felt toward him after learning the name we humans use for him. Again, I can't help but feel like it doesn't suit him.
Not truly.
Death may be what he is, but I don't think it's who he is.
This place, his home, may be built of shadows and ice, but he is not, despite what he may think. There's a warmth to him, buried deep within his eyes, as he watches me.
No, Death does not suit him. I'll have to think of another name to call him by while I'm here, even if it's just within my own mind.
Sighing, I realize I'm not making much sense, but how can I? The man is literally death personified.
My mind swims, and I shake my head to clear it. I need something to keep my hands and thoughts occupied.
Climbing off the stool, I turn to survey the kitchen. Much of the mess remains, and I smile. At least I know what to do with myself for now. This thought is a welcome one, and I'm grateful for the distraction.
I'd almost been afraid of the empty halls earlier. Afraid that with nothing to keep me busy, I'd spend my days wandering them in silence as I wallowed over the choice that I've made ... on the heartbreak and disappointment Father will know when he learns of my fate.
If he learns my fate at all.
My mind momentarily flits back to Cyprian standing over Amadeus' body, and I grow sick at the thought of what lies may be told to Father about me.
