beaten. Nicholas stared at her with no apparent sign of recognition, not a glimmer of apology or violence or pity. His complexion hadn’t warmed. He seemed as delicate as ever, breathing faintly as if he hadn’t raised a finger in exertion.
“Return to your work,” Bell told him.
Nicholas obeyed. Even when he sat and it was safe to steal a glance, he neither looked at her nor paused before resuming with his quill.
Molly’s father led her out and shut the door behind them. They stood in the entrance hall, its skylight shining high above. The fresher air was like another day, a whole different season.
“You bore it well,” Bell said, bending at the waist to see her up close. His eyes were soft, even timid, and his skin looked weathered in the strong illumination. She focused on the wire-stiff bristles in his nose. “You needn’t ask forgiveness now. If Nicholas wishes, we will fit him with an artificial tooth.”
“I didn’t want to hurt him,” Molly whimpered.
“Nor I you,” her father replied. “My duty as a parent calls for discipline at times. Do not think I relish it. But punishment can edify, if only you allow it. Every lash can be a lesson, every weal a tiny scripture.” He touched her on the ear and said, “I know that with maturity and governance—self-governance, Molly, and fewer of these incidents and trials—I will one day count myself proud to be your father.” He kissed her on the head and sent her to her room, watching her ascend all thirty of the stairs.
As soon as she was free, Molly hid beneath the covers of her bed, lying on her stomach and imagining herself inside a cave made of snow. Every throb reinforced that Nicholas had struck her. Nicholas, her brother and her best and only friend. How he hated her—he must!—for costing him a tooth. How his aim had never faltered, how his strength had never waned! She heard the birds beyond the window and considered leaping out. Would the fall truly kill her? She would have to hit her head. They would grieve her then, and Nicholas would love her once again.
She stayed within her cave until the door creaked open. It was Nicholas. She knew because he sounded like a ghost.
“You can give me forty more!” she said, throwing off the sheet and turning round to meet him. The agony redoubled when she sat upon her heels.
Her brother smiled more than usual, perhaps to show the gap. The blood looked ferocious on his white silk shirt. His hand was in a fist. She noticed right away because his hands were always delicate, with fingers made for instruments, calligraphy, and scalpels.
“I have something else to give you,” Nicholas said.
He opened his hand. Molly crawled along the bed until her nose was at his palm. In the center, so it seemed, was a tiny shard of porcelain.
“Your tooth,” she said.
“Take it.”
Molly held it with her fingertips.
He kissed her on the crown and said, “Keep it to remember it is he who tries to hurt us—as a promise that he won’t have control of us forever.”
“I thought you hated me!” she said.
“Don’t be stupid,” Nicholas told her. “But he will make me punish you again.”
“I’ll be good. I’ll behave.”
He smirked and said, “You won’t.”
Molly sat back, wincing at the pain.
He continued with a look much colder than his words: “Never forget how much I love you, even when I hurt you.”
Molly squeezed the tooth so it bit against her hand.
“I’ll never hurt you again,” she said.
“You will.”
“I won’t!”
“You’ll have to.”
“Why?”
“We’re the strongest people in the world,” Nicholas said, and though his answer seemed ridiculous considering their wounds, she brightened from the inside out and tried to smile.
“We’re stronger than everyone,” she said.
“Except each other.”
“But together—”
“Together,” he said, imbuing the word with confidence and hope, even while his strength kept burning in her welts.
Chapter
“Return to your work,” Bell told him.
Nicholas obeyed. Even when he sat and it was safe to steal a glance, he neither looked at her nor paused before resuming with his quill.
Molly’s father led her out and shut the door behind them. They stood in the entrance hall, its skylight shining high above. The fresher air was like another day, a whole different season.
“You bore it well,” Bell said, bending at the waist to see her up close. His eyes were soft, even timid, and his skin looked weathered in the strong illumination. She focused on the wire-stiff bristles in his nose. “You needn’t ask forgiveness now. If Nicholas wishes, we will fit him with an artificial tooth.”
“I didn’t want to hurt him,” Molly whimpered.
“Nor I you,” her father replied. “My duty as a parent calls for discipline at times. Do not think I relish it. But punishment can edify, if only you allow it. Every lash can be a lesson, every weal a tiny scripture.” He touched her on the ear and said, “I know that with maturity and governance—self-governance, Molly, and fewer of these incidents and trials—I will one day count myself proud to be your father.” He kissed her on the head and sent her to her room, watching her ascend all thirty of the stairs.
As soon as she was free, Molly hid beneath the covers of her bed, lying on her stomach and imagining herself inside a cave made of snow. Every throb reinforced that Nicholas had struck her. Nicholas, her brother and her best and only friend. How he hated her—he must!—for costing him a tooth. How his aim had never faltered, how his strength had never waned! She heard the birds beyond the window and considered leaping out. Would the fall truly kill her? She would have to hit her head. They would grieve her then, and Nicholas would love her once again.
She stayed within her cave until the door creaked open. It was Nicholas. She knew because he sounded like a ghost.
“You can give me forty more!” she said, throwing off the sheet and turning round to meet him. The agony redoubled when she sat upon her heels.
Her brother smiled more than usual, perhaps to show the gap. The blood looked ferocious on his white silk shirt. His hand was in a fist. She noticed right away because his hands were always delicate, with fingers made for instruments, calligraphy, and scalpels.
“I have something else to give you,” Nicholas said.
He opened his hand. Molly crawled along the bed until her nose was at his palm. In the center, so it seemed, was a tiny shard of porcelain.
“Your tooth,” she said.
“Take it.”
Molly held it with her fingertips.
He kissed her on the crown and said, “Keep it to remember it is he who tries to hurt us—as a promise that he won’t have control of us forever.”
“I thought you hated me!” she said.
“Don’t be stupid,” Nicholas told her. “But he will make me punish you again.”
“I’ll be good. I’ll behave.”
He smirked and said, “You won’t.”
Molly sat back, wincing at the pain.
He continued with a look much colder than his words: “Never forget how much I love you, even when I hurt you.”
Molly squeezed the tooth so it bit against her hand.
“I’ll never hurt you again,” she said.
“You will.”
“I won’t!”
“You’ll have to.”
“Why?”
“We’re the strongest people in the world,” Nicholas said, and though his answer seemed ridiculous considering their wounds, she brightened from the inside out and tried to smile.
“We’re stronger than everyone,” she said.
“Except each other.”
“But together—”
“Together,” he said, imbuing the word with confidence and hope, even while his strength kept burning in her welts.
Chapter
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