The Iron Thorn - Caitlin Kittredge [105]
While Bethina bustled in the kitchen I went to my room and changed into a pair of toreador pants and a silk blouse that I tied up around my waist. My hair was hopeless, but I managed to comb out the moss and leaves and lily petals.
Dean found me as I descended the stairs, stopping my path. “What’s the word, kitten?”
“Exhausted,” I said, glad he’d found me and not Cal right then. “Hungry. Pick one.”
Dean tipped his head to the side. The light caught his eyes and turned them liquid silver. “You going to tell me what really happened after you went AWOL last night?”
I worried my lip. “I’m too cold to go up on the roof again.”
“When the sun warms things up, then,” he said. “We’ll walk and you’ll talk. Sound fair?”
Tremaine’s words bubbled up in my thoughts, scornful and sharp. That’s the last bargain I’m to give you.
“All right,” I said. On an impulse, I grabbed Dean’s hand and squeezed. He was warm, alive and solid and I clung longer than I needed to. “I’m glad you stayed.”
Dean squeezed in return. “Right back at you.”
“Breakfast!” Bethina’s shout echoed from the kitchen. “Pancakes! Come and get ’em if you’re able!”
Dean sighed and let go of my hand. “Stale johnnycakes and mushy oatmeal. The stuff dreams are made of.”
“Dean …,” I started as he thumped down the stairs. He stopped at the bottom.
“Yeah, princess?”
I waved him off. Dean seemed willing to accept my flights of fancy about the Weird, but telling him I’d visited a land where the Folk watched their cursed queens sleep could only be asking for even more trouble than telling Cal about the library.
“Nothing,” I said. “Forget it.”
“I won’t, but I’ll be patient,” Dean said. “Hungry enough to eat a nightjar raw.”
I waited until he’d gone and then went to the library above and got my father’s journal. I needed it near me. I needed to know that in shouldering the burden of Tremaine and his cursebreaker, I wasn’t alone.
Cal shoved his third pancake into his mouth, rivulets of syrup coating his chin. “I don’t understand why you read those musty things,” he said, pointing at my father’s book. “I’d kill for a copy of Weird Tales.”
“I like books,” I said, tucking it under my elbow. “We always had books.”
“That one doesn’t even have a proper picture on the cover,” Cal snorted. “Give it here, let’s see what the fuss is about.”
“No.” I jerked it away from his sticky fingers. Cal frowned.
“See, this is what happens when you read too much. You get bad manners and bad habits. You’ll need glasses before you know it.”
“Nothing wrong with a pair of cat’s-eyes,” Dean said. “They can do favors for a pretty girl.” He dropped me a wink while Cal’s face pinked.
“We won’t always be schoolkids, Aoife,” Cal piped up. “What will a husband think of this bookworm habit?”
“Cal, why do you care?” I slammed down my plate, appetite gone after half a bowl of oatmeal.
“I’m helping,” he muttered. “You—you don’t have a mother to tell you these things.”
I grabbed my father’s book and shoved my chair back with a screech. I loved Cal like another brother, but right then I felt like I did when Conrad teased me once too often—like I wanted to slap him and tell him to go jump off a bridge. “Cal, unless you want the job, lay off. Stop being my fussy aunt and just be my friend.”
“You’re misunderstanding …,” he started, and then scrubbed at his chin with his napkin. “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have spoken up.”
“You shouldn’t,” I concurred. Cal’s jaw twitched.
“Aoife, what’s gotten into you? You’re rude and short and you disappear for hours on end. Is there something you want to tell me?”
I tightened my grip on the journal. “Not a thing,” I gritted and turned on my heel, storming into the library.
The orderly rows of books were soothing, familiar. After the alien landscape of Thorn, it was a larger relief than I’d imagined.
Alone after I’d climbed into the attic space, I felt a deep, fathomless cold envelop me. Tremaine had threatened Cal and Dean if I disobeyed him. He knew what had happened to Conrad and he would keep the secret