way Lily stared at the apple. “You’re probably hungry, aren’t you?” She hadn’t eaten anything all day, but that wasn’t unusual for her.
“I could eat,” Lily admitted shyly.
Wick didn’t have much in the way of food. She lived alone, dined alone, and often busied herself too much with magic and potions to remember to eat. Rummaging through her cupboards, she found an old loaf of bread, and she whipped up a simple broth. Adding a handful of red berries they’d picked that day, and Wick had made a rather presentable supper.
Lily sat on a stool by the fire, dipping her bread into the broth to soften it, while Wick sat at the kitchen table. While Lily ate, Wick munched absently on berries and pulled out her grimoira, cataloguing everything in detail in her spell book. She kept careful record of everything she collected and used because she was always trying to improve or create new recipes for magic.
“Thank you for taking me in. I really appreciate all of your hospitality,” Lily said between bites of her food. Wick mumbled something but didn’t look up. “I know my mother would be very grateful to you for this.”
The mention of her mother made Wick stop writing. She stared down at the page for a moment, remembering a friend she hadn’t thought of in years. Guilt washed over her, knowing that’s not how Iris would feel at all. Iris would be angry with her for not doing a better job of watching out for Lily all this time, and Wick hated knowing that she’d failed the only friend she’d ever really had.
Wick lifted her head, wanting to say something meaningful to her about her mother, but something else caught her attention – the jacket hanging on the chair across from her, the way it had been all day. She’d spotted it from time to time, the scent of brimstone wafting from it ever so slightly. She kept meaning to bring it up, but she always got sidetracked. This time, she’d stick to it. It’s the least she could do for Iris.
“Where did you get that?” Wick asked.
“What?” Lily asked, swallowing down a chunk of bread.
“The jacket.” Wick turned back to look at her, and Lily lowered her head. “Who gave it to you?”
“A … friend,” Lily answered quietly. She stopped eating her bread and resorted to tearing it into small bites to busy her hands. The harsh tone in Wick’s voice made Lily afraid to say anything about Lux. Besides that, she didn’t really know what to say about him.
“Whoever gave you this jacket is nobody’s friend,” Wick told her firmly. Lily didn’t say anything and stared down at her lap.
“He’s not really a friend,” Lily admitted softly.
Her mind went back to Lux, the way it always seemed to whenever it had a chance. Her heart swelled inside her chest, and she flushed with warmth as her pulse quickened. When he’d left her in the woods, it’d been confusing and painful, but everything else about him felt wonderful. The way he looked at her, the way his hands were hot on her skin, the way he smelled and tasted and felt.
“Lily!” Wick snapped, pulling her out of her thoughts. “How did you come by this? Did he… did he do something to you?”
Lily shook her head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.”
But what was it like, exactly? As tremendous as all her memories and feelings were about him, very little that had transpired between them had been good, and they’d only know each other a very short while.
“I met him at the ball,” Lily said at length. “He…” She trailed off, not wanting to tell Wick about the kiss. She’d only react with disappointment. “We talked. He made me feel … like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He asked me to leave with him, and he took me to the Necrosilvam. He told me to go in the woods and hide out, and made me promise to never go home again.”
“He just left you here?” Wick’s forehead crinkled with confusion. “Why didn’t he want you to go back to the palace?”
“He didn’t say.
“I could eat,” Lily admitted shyly.
Wick didn’t have much in the way of food. She lived alone, dined alone, and often busied herself too much with magic and potions to remember to eat. Rummaging through her cupboards, she found an old loaf of bread, and she whipped up a simple broth. Adding a handful of red berries they’d picked that day, and Wick had made a rather presentable supper.
Lily sat on a stool by the fire, dipping her bread into the broth to soften it, while Wick sat at the kitchen table. While Lily ate, Wick munched absently on berries and pulled out her grimoira, cataloguing everything in detail in her spell book. She kept careful record of everything she collected and used because she was always trying to improve or create new recipes for magic.
“Thank you for taking me in. I really appreciate all of your hospitality,” Lily said between bites of her food. Wick mumbled something but didn’t look up. “I know my mother would be very grateful to you for this.”
The mention of her mother made Wick stop writing. She stared down at the page for a moment, remembering a friend she hadn’t thought of in years. Guilt washed over her, knowing that’s not how Iris would feel at all. Iris would be angry with her for not doing a better job of watching out for Lily all this time, and Wick hated knowing that she’d failed the only friend she’d ever really had.
Wick lifted her head, wanting to say something meaningful to her about her mother, but something else caught her attention – the jacket hanging on the chair across from her, the way it had been all day. She’d spotted it from time to time, the scent of brimstone wafting from it ever so slightly. She kept meaning to bring it up, but she always got sidetracked. This time, she’d stick to it. It’s the least she could do for Iris.
“Where did you get that?” Wick asked.
“What?” Lily asked, swallowing down a chunk of bread.
“The jacket.” Wick turned back to look at her, and Lily lowered her head. “Who gave it to you?”
“A … friend,” Lily answered quietly. She stopped eating her bread and resorted to tearing it into small bites to busy her hands. The harsh tone in Wick’s voice made Lily afraid to say anything about Lux. Besides that, she didn’t really know what to say about him.
“Whoever gave you this jacket is nobody’s friend,” Wick told her firmly. Lily didn’t say anything and stared down at her lap.
“He’s not really a friend,” Lily admitted softly.
Her mind went back to Lux, the way it always seemed to whenever it had a chance. Her heart swelled inside her chest, and she flushed with warmth as her pulse quickened. When he’d left her in the woods, it’d been confusing and painful, but everything else about him felt wonderful. The way he looked at her, the way his hands were hot on her skin, the way he smelled and tasted and felt.
“Lily!” Wick snapped, pulling her out of her thoughts. “How did you come by this? Did he… did he do something to you?”
Lily shook her head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.”
But what was it like, exactly? As tremendous as all her memories and feelings were about him, very little that had transpired between them had been good, and they’d only know each other a very short while.
“I met him at the ball,” Lily said at length. “He…” She trailed off, not wanting to tell Wick about the kiss. She’d only react with disappointment. “We talked. He made me feel … like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He asked me to leave with him, and he took me to the Necrosilvam. He told me to go in the woods and hide out, and made me promise to never go home again.”
“He just left you here?” Wick’s forehead crinkled with confusion. “Why didn’t he want you to go back to the palace?”
“He didn’t say.
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