Jinx, and I remembered sitting there watching him. Admiring him. So animated as he spoke—he was still excited about the fact he'd almost died. And as it turned out—at least from his injured perspective—Jinx had been fine, right until the bunny. At which point it was as if the bunny were some fanged demon from hell who sent Jinx into a fit, and Jinx had bucked Alex right off. Down an embankment and into a pile of thorny bramble.
"Quit looking at me like that." He rolled his eyes. "It's just a broken leg and a minor concussion."
" Just ." I'd snorted. "I think your brain is what's broken. Are you suicidal?"
Alex reached for me with that proud and very lopsided grin. "But Daria…she finally let me ride her! Saddle…reins…everything!"
I'd eyed him and frowned. "You're sick, you know that?"
He'd laughed again, grabbing my wrists and pulling me closer, and I'd let him. He'd pulled me down until I was lying beside him, my feet dangling over the edge of the mattress, the two of us wedged in that hospital bed. It wasn't unusual for us. We used to lie all over each other all the time. Touching was familiar because of all our fighting and sparring and wrestling. We'd always been so comfortable with one another, back before everything had gotten so complicated. Back before he'd grown so serious with burden and responsibility—which I understood now.
"You smell like grass," he'd said, playing with a piece of my hair.
"That's because I was in the middle of mowing the lawn."
"That's not a lawn. It's a carpet square."
"Shush, before I break your other leg."
I felt him chuckle against me.
"I can't decide if I should be flattered you were so worried about me, or insulted…" he'd whispered on my hair, squeezing my waist.
"Insulted. Definitely," I'd teased, poking him gently in the ribs. For some reason I hadn't felt comfortable telling him just how worried I'd been. Because I'd loved him even then, though I hadn't realized it at the time, and I'd refused to let my mind even creep to that precarious edge, because doing so made me feel vulnerable in a way I'd never felt before. And I was afraid of it. Alex's friendship was like a rare and precious gem I wanted to hide away and protect so that no outside force could take it away from me—or worse, shatter it and render it irreparable. And loving him in that way could do just that.
A cool breeze whispered through the gardens of the Pontefract estate, bringing me back to the present. That was another time, another life. So, so long ago, it almost felt as if those memories belonged to another person. I closed my eyes, letting my mind slip away with it. I missed him. So much. I missed before, the way things had been, before all the walls and awkwardness and duty, and I missed the present, filled with all the raw passion and longing. I missed a future I would never have, not with him. My chest shook with my next breath and I swallowed.
"Ah, there you are, your highness," said a silky voice.
Groan. Maybe I should've thrown myself in the fire instead.
I blinked my eyes open and sat up straight. "Lady Isla."
She gave me a cherry-lipped smile, and I had the sudden urge to reach out and smudge her perfect lipstick. Isla looked particularly exquisite today, wrapped in a gown of lapis lazuli with black lace accents across the front of her torso and in long plates down her skirts. The fabric—some mixture of silk and chiffon—sashayed as she approached, the hem of her gown tickling the short green grass. Most of her red hair was hidden beneath a lacy black bonnet secured by a fat black ribbon tied under her chin. Long black gloves covered her slender hands and arms, and the cape hiding her shoulders was made of black velvet and lined with black silk. She looked as if she'd stepped out of a nineteenth-century edition of Vogue. Men fought with fists, but women fought with fashion, and Isla had just declared war.
Her dark eyes did a once over my frame, and I could almost see her
"Quit looking at me like that." He rolled his eyes. "It's just a broken leg and a minor concussion."
" Just ." I'd snorted. "I think your brain is what's broken. Are you suicidal?"
Alex reached for me with that proud and very lopsided grin. "But Daria…she finally let me ride her! Saddle…reins…everything!"
I'd eyed him and frowned. "You're sick, you know that?"
He'd laughed again, grabbing my wrists and pulling me closer, and I'd let him. He'd pulled me down until I was lying beside him, my feet dangling over the edge of the mattress, the two of us wedged in that hospital bed. It wasn't unusual for us. We used to lie all over each other all the time. Touching was familiar because of all our fighting and sparring and wrestling. We'd always been so comfortable with one another, back before everything had gotten so complicated. Back before he'd grown so serious with burden and responsibility—which I understood now.
"You smell like grass," he'd said, playing with a piece of my hair.
"That's because I was in the middle of mowing the lawn."
"That's not a lawn. It's a carpet square."
"Shush, before I break your other leg."
I felt him chuckle against me.
"I can't decide if I should be flattered you were so worried about me, or insulted…" he'd whispered on my hair, squeezing my waist.
"Insulted. Definitely," I'd teased, poking him gently in the ribs. For some reason I hadn't felt comfortable telling him just how worried I'd been. Because I'd loved him even then, though I hadn't realized it at the time, and I'd refused to let my mind even creep to that precarious edge, because doing so made me feel vulnerable in a way I'd never felt before. And I was afraid of it. Alex's friendship was like a rare and precious gem I wanted to hide away and protect so that no outside force could take it away from me—or worse, shatter it and render it irreparable. And loving him in that way could do just that.
A cool breeze whispered through the gardens of the Pontefract estate, bringing me back to the present. That was another time, another life. So, so long ago, it almost felt as if those memories belonged to another person. I closed my eyes, letting my mind slip away with it. I missed him. So much. I missed before, the way things had been, before all the walls and awkwardness and duty, and I missed the present, filled with all the raw passion and longing. I missed a future I would never have, not with him. My chest shook with my next breath and I swallowed.
"Ah, there you are, your highness," said a silky voice.
Groan. Maybe I should've thrown myself in the fire instead.
I blinked my eyes open and sat up straight. "Lady Isla."
She gave me a cherry-lipped smile, and I had the sudden urge to reach out and smudge her perfect lipstick. Isla looked particularly exquisite today, wrapped in a gown of lapis lazuli with black lace accents across the front of her torso and in long plates down her skirts. The fabric—some mixture of silk and chiffon—sashayed as she approached, the hem of her gown tickling the short green grass. Most of her red hair was hidden beneath a lacy black bonnet secured by a fat black ribbon tied under her chin. Long black gloves covered her slender hands and arms, and the cape hiding her shoulders was made of black velvet and lined with black silk. She looked as if she'd stepped out of a nineteenth-century edition of Vogue. Men fought with fists, but women fought with fashion, and Isla had just declared war.
Her dark eyes did a once over my frame, and I could almost see her
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