prince tries, though. He finds a magic potion to push back the fog, he cuts the vines with his sword and creates a path through the thorns. “What about the dragon? And how will he wake her?” I ask, impatiently.
“Just let me finish,” Luke says, with a playful frown.
I inch to the edge of my seat and lean forward. “Well, hurry.”
He smiles and looks down at the baby saying, “She’s very impatient.” He takes in a dramatic deep breath, making me wait. When I growl he laughs and continues, “The prince met the dragon at the door of the castle. Its scales were strong as iron and its breath burned through brick. But the prince wouldn’t leave his love. He fought valiantly against the beast, he dodged the flames and swung his sword wide. But a man can’t fight a dragon. So, the monster opened its mouth, teeth sharp and wicked, and bit down on the prince, swallowing him whole.”
“What?!” I squeal. “What a horrible story to tell her.” I huff and try to take the baby back, but Luke just laughs and hushes me, telling me to sit down.
“I’m not finished,” he says.
I grunt and sit.
He focuses back on the child in his arms. “The dragon wasn’t thinking clearly, see—a man may not be able to fight a dragon, but it’s always a bad idea to swallow a fellow with a sword. The prince cut his way from the belly of the beast, killing it, and came away unharmed—except, he was very smelly and dirty, and needed to wash up before he could see his princess, so he scrubbed himself in the fountain—”
“Oh, please.”
“—and soon he’s clean and shiny again.” Luke gives me a grin. And as he continues his eyes stay on mine. “The prince climbs the hundred and three steps up the tower and finds the room where the princess sleeps. But thorny white roses grow over her body, making it impossible to see her face, making it painful when he reaches out. Still, he lets himself be cut and he bleeds. And when his blood drips down, onto her dress, her hands, her face, the thorns shrink back and he can see her.”
There’s sadness in his words now, the story changing, becoming too close to reality for play. “He kneels at the side of her bed and brushes a drop of red from her cheek. He takes in the sight of her. The dark chocolate of her hair and the cream color of her skin. She has lips that are pink like clamshells and a neck as delicate as a swan’s.” Luke swallows and studies my face, the air thick with his words. Words about a princess. Words about me? My skin tingles as they wrap around me. “The prince came so far to find her. He fought and bled for her. But she can’t see him, she still sleeps under her curse. He whispers in her ear that she’s safe, he’ll protect her, and then he leans in and kisses her lips, gently—she might break apart if he’s not careful.”
The buzzing in my skin sinks down, vibrating through me.
Luke reaches out. His fingers graze my knuckles and I see the kiss in his eyes, the longing. “The princess stirs and opens her eyes to him. Eyes that make his heart break, such a light winter-blue. They make him think of the sky in summer. Of robin’s eggs in spring.”
My heart beats at my chest. My hand turns hot where his fingers touch. “Luke,” I say, feeling breathless. I don’t know what to do, what I want to tell him, I just need to say his name.
“He loves her,” he whispers; the quick beat of his pulse shakes his voice now. “He always will.”
“Luke,” I say again. Because I’m not sure what else to say.
Love .
It seems to thicken the air, to cloud around the two of us, like threads weaving us together. But, love...love is delicate and softness and grace.
And I’m...
Luke deserves so much more than me.
He smiles, a sad smile. Then pulls away and stands. “The fire’s dying. I’ll go get some wood.” And he sets the baby on the pallet and walks out of the shack, leaving me in silence and confusion.
*
Luke’s restless for the
“Just let me finish,” Luke says, with a playful frown.
I inch to the edge of my seat and lean forward. “Well, hurry.”
He smiles and looks down at the baby saying, “She’s very impatient.” He takes in a dramatic deep breath, making me wait. When I growl he laughs and continues, “The prince met the dragon at the door of the castle. Its scales were strong as iron and its breath burned through brick. But the prince wouldn’t leave his love. He fought valiantly against the beast, he dodged the flames and swung his sword wide. But a man can’t fight a dragon. So, the monster opened its mouth, teeth sharp and wicked, and bit down on the prince, swallowing him whole.”
“What?!” I squeal. “What a horrible story to tell her.” I huff and try to take the baby back, but Luke just laughs and hushes me, telling me to sit down.
“I’m not finished,” he says.
I grunt and sit.
He focuses back on the child in his arms. “The dragon wasn’t thinking clearly, see—a man may not be able to fight a dragon, but it’s always a bad idea to swallow a fellow with a sword. The prince cut his way from the belly of the beast, killing it, and came away unharmed—except, he was very smelly and dirty, and needed to wash up before he could see his princess, so he scrubbed himself in the fountain—”
“Oh, please.”
“—and soon he’s clean and shiny again.” Luke gives me a grin. And as he continues his eyes stay on mine. “The prince climbs the hundred and three steps up the tower and finds the room where the princess sleeps. But thorny white roses grow over her body, making it impossible to see her face, making it painful when he reaches out. Still, he lets himself be cut and he bleeds. And when his blood drips down, onto her dress, her hands, her face, the thorns shrink back and he can see her.”
There’s sadness in his words now, the story changing, becoming too close to reality for play. “He kneels at the side of her bed and brushes a drop of red from her cheek. He takes in the sight of her. The dark chocolate of her hair and the cream color of her skin. She has lips that are pink like clamshells and a neck as delicate as a swan’s.” Luke swallows and studies my face, the air thick with his words. Words about a princess. Words about me? My skin tingles as they wrap around me. “The prince came so far to find her. He fought and bled for her. But she can’t see him, she still sleeps under her curse. He whispers in her ear that she’s safe, he’ll protect her, and then he leans in and kisses her lips, gently—she might break apart if he’s not careful.”
The buzzing in my skin sinks down, vibrating through me.
Luke reaches out. His fingers graze my knuckles and I see the kiss in his eyes, the longing. “The princess stirs and opens her eyes to him. Eyes that make his heart break, such a light winter-blue. They make him think of the sky in summer. Of robin’s eggs in spring.”
My heart beats at my chest. My hand turns hot where his fingers touch. “Luke,” I say, feeling breathless. I don’t know what to do, what I want to tell him, I just need to say his name.
“He loves her,” he whispers; the quick beat of his pulse shakes his voice now. “He always will.”
“Luke,” I say again. Because I’m not sure what else to say.
Love .
It seems to thicken the air, to cloud around the two of us, like threads weaving us together. But, love...love is delicate and softness and grace.
And I’m...
Luke deserves so much more than me.
He smiles, a sad smile. Then pulls away and stands. “The fire’s dying. I’ll go get some wood.” And he sets the baby on the pallet and walks out of the shack, leaving me in silence and confusion.
*
Luke’s restless for the
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