Twirling, she faced him, hands on her hips. “You,” she jabbed him in the chest, “are going to go lay down right this moment. You are too tired, and I don’t want to have to nurse you better because you’ve tripped on another rug and gone flying face-first into a table or something. So go.” She shooed him away, ignoring his protests. “I’m going to come to check on you! You better be asleep!” she called after him.
Unsure what to do, Bell started off, letting her feet wander as freely as her thoughts. Drawn from her reverie, she found herself standing outside the art room on the tower landing. She looked back down the staircase, puzzled, not having remembered climbing that many steps.
Shrugging, she opened the door and stepped inside. She was already here – she might as well look at her favorite paintings again.
Bell was surprised to find the easel set up with a canvas on it. Curious, she wandered over to look. Easily one of the largest paintings in the room, Bell was surprised to see a portrait of herself covering it.
Bell was amazed. Each strand of hair glistened in the light, defined perfectly. Looking at it, Bell thought this is what she would look like if she was just a little prettier, a little kinder, a little happier. She didn’t even recognize the soft smile playing across her painted cheeks.
This painting, she realized, was how she must look to someone who loved her. Idly she wondered if this is what her Papa or sisters saw before a stab of heartache pierced in between her ribs.
Finding the stool, she sat, taking her time inspecting the painting. She remembered Alder saying that he painted so that he wouldn’t forget a single thing about the person, even though it turned out he could always remember.
Transfixed by this version of herself she had never imagined, she was startled when a throat cleared in the doorway to the room. Looking up, Bell saw Alder. She felt like a toddler being found where they were not supposed to be.
“How long have you been here?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow and entering the room, Fluffy following, stepping with care, so he avoided all the painting items.
Glancing around, Bell was surprised to find that evening had fallen outside the windows, and the ceiling was emanating the light instead of the sun. “I don’t actually know. Alder, what’s this?” she asked, gesturing at the painting.
Moving to stand behind her stool, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “That’s you.”
“No, it’s not,” she frowned.
“Yes, it most definitely is. I’m the one who painted it. I should know who the subject is – she’s sitting here before me.”
Bell struggled to throw off his arms. Bemused, he removed them, watching her stand up and stalk towards the painting. “This is not what I look like!”
Understanding glistened in his eyes. “I didn’t change anything about you when I painted this.”
“Liar!” she accused.
Joining her at the painting, he said, “Show me what’s different.”
The sudden change of tactics threw her off. “Well – the smile! I know I don’t smile like that! It’s too soft. My smile is big and wide and unladylike! My governess used to tell me all the time.”
Turning to face his painting, he traced the smile. “You smile like that when Fluffy puts his head in your lap for attention. You smile like that when you’re reading, and you’ve reached a particularly good spot. And sometimes, when I am exponentially lucky, you smile like that at me when you think I’m not looking.”
She couldn’t think of a response. “Well, my hair! It’s not that color, and it’s not that styled – if you hadn’t noticed my hair’s all over.”
“Come here,” he said, grasping her wrist and dragging her to where he stood. “This is the color of your hair in the sun – it glistens in the light. And look here,” he pointed above her head, “you can see those wispy hairs you’re complaining about right there. Now, what is your actual problem with the painting? I don’t understand.”
“Do… do you care about me because I’m me, or do you care about me because I’m the one that makes you not alone? Is it just because I’m here with you?” Bell looked at him lost.
Alder stared at her perplexed. “I don’t understand your question or how it relates to my painting Belladonna.”
“I realized while I was gone that I had feelings for you, feelings beyond those of pure friendship. Watching my sisters interact with the men they love, I found myself wishing that you were there too. And I was so worried you’d hate me for vanishing. It didn’t matter; I was surrounded by an entire town – I missed you and wanted you.
“Looking at this, it looked like me vaguely at best. If we weren’t in this Palace if we weren’t trapped together, would you still feel the same way? Or are your feelings only here because there is no one else for you to care about? Would any woman who appeared have been good enough?”
Pulling her close so they could both look at the painting, he sighed. “Before I address anything else, let’s get this painting out of the way. Belladonna, this is how you look. You are this beautiful, whether your hair is a rat’s nest-like in the mornings or if it’s smoothed out. You don’t recognize it because you don’t see it, but you glow. I’m sure everyone around you can see it – you glow from the inside out, and you are breathtaking. I didn’t change anything – I thought I had lost you, and I painted you exactly as you are.”
Bell tried to pull away to argue, and he tightened his arms. “I’m not done yet,” he growled. “I want to make this very clear, so listen closely. It doesn’t matter where I first saw you; if we were on a crowded street or if we were eighty, I still would feel the same way. I could have lived a happy lifetime before we met, and I would still choose you once our paths crossed. Over and over and over again, I would choose you. From the moment I saw you, I knew you had bewitched me. I had every intention of staying away from you, and then you decided we were going to have a truce, and I couldn’t say no to you. You’re right. I do care about you because you are here and make me not alone. But that’s only because you bring me a comfort and happiness I didn’t know I had the right to enjoy. No one else could ever do that, Belladonna. It’s only you.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And to be clear, I don’t just care for you – I love you. There is a huge difference. So please stop being hurt because I don’t know what else to say to you to make you feel better.”
Bell’s head reeled by Alder’s declaration. She had expected to come back and apologize to an angry man, but instead, she had returned to find him elated to have her home. The feelings she had felt bloom during her stay with her family warmed her. Suddenly ashamed by her lack of trust, Bell turned and rested her forehead on his chest, mumbling.
“What? I couldn’t hear that.”
More clearly, she said, “I’m sorry. And I love you too.”
From her position, she could hear Alder’s breath catch in his chest at her words. He didn’t say anything, only held her a little tighter.
The mirror lay on the kitchen table accusatorially. She had been scared her heart would break in two if she checked on her family and hadn’t since her return.
“Are you going to check yet, Belladonna?” He took her silent fidgeting as a no. “You’ve been carrying that thing around for days, and you’ve already dropped it twice. For the safety of the mirror and my sanity, will you please check on your family? You’re giving me anxiety. And Fluffy – look at him. He’s becoming traumatized.”
Bell glanced at the dog lying between their chairs, looking up at them with a wide dog smile. Turning her gaze back to Alder, he said defensively, “Well, he could be. How could we know? Please just check! You can’t keep on living like this; it’s not good for you.”
“Fine.” She grabbed the mirror and tapped it three times.
The mirror fogged over and then cleared, showing a busy scene in Flor Cottage.
“Frank – Frank, come here! Your bowtie is crooked!” Trying to fix it, Poppy frowned. “I won’t m
ake you put your jacket on now, but when we get to the hall, you need to put it on before anyone sees you.”
“Poppy, come here and leave your poor son alone,” Geranium clucked. “I can’t tell if my headpiece is on straight, and it needs to be pinned.”
Poppy hurried over to her sister, but not before giving her son the you-better-not-disobey-me look that mothers are so adept at. “Here, let me do it. It’s only slightly crooked.” Glancing at the clock, Poppy moaned. “We’re going to be late! Come on – the carriage is waiting outside. Thank goodness, Dr. Jayr thought ahead. Kids! Get going!”
Geranium didn’t move, sitting still as a statue before the mirror she couldn’t see.
“What’s wrong?”
“Poppy… do I… do I look pretty today?”
The question hit Poppy like a bolt of lightning, instantly draining the color from her face. Coming over, she hugged her younger sister, careful not to crush any of her wedding attire. “You’ve always been the most beautiful of all of us, Geranium. You were then, and you still are now. You are stunning today, and more at peace then I have ever seen you.”
Nodding once she said, “I don’t really mind being blind. At first, it was scary, all the darkness, but now I think it’s made everything easier for me to see – if that makes any kind of sense.”
“It does. It took Ashley dying to show me how badly I had messed up, and how much Belladonna had done for us.”
Geranium sniffled. “I wish she was here. If she was, everything would be perfect.”
Choosing her words carefully, Poppy pulled her sister to her feet to hold her. “Everyone wishes Belladonna was here. But we also all know why she left. If we didn’t have her money, we would be destitute. Without the money she gifted you and Dr. Jayr, none of this would be possible. He wouldn’t have been able to buy his building and his practice for years. She’s given you a place to call your own, and she’s given you a beautiful wedding. She’s here with us.”
Geranium pulled away, her eyes shining. “You’re right.”
Poppy pulled her younger sister to her feet. “Now, let's get going – there’s a whole hall full of people who want to see you start your happily-ever-after.”
The scene swirled out of focus as they left, leaving the little cottage empty.
Closing her eyes, Bell set the mirror down. She felt sick to her stomach, her guilt at missing her sister’s wedding, making her stomach roll over. Pursing her lips together, she waited for the feeling to ebb before saying, “I think this is the last time I use the mirror.”
Opening her eyes, she glanced over at Alder. His face was drawn, a small frown creasing his brow. “If that’s what you think is best. I’ll make you some tea – it looks like you need it.”
He stood and moved to the other side of the kitchen, unnecessarily loud as he handled the kettle. Bell was grateful he had understood she needed a few moments to collect herself.
Setting down the mugs, he pulled his seat closer to hers. “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
Bell grabbed the mug, letting its warmth bring feeling back into her icy fingers. “How do you always know just what to say?”
“It’s exactly what I imagined someone would say to me. I’ve been alone, and it’s easy to figure out what I wished someone would say if there was somewhere here.”
Bell inspected the thoughts rolling through her head in turmoil. “No… no, I don’t think I have anything that needs to be said. It just is. I am here, and I am missing out on everyone’s lives.”
Nodding Alder cleared his throat and implored, “What… what was your sister talking about with the money you sent back home? How is that… possible?”
“What? Oh, I guess I forgot to mention it when I told you about my visit because it seemed so inconsequential compared to everything else. According to my family, I’ve been sending letters and generous amounts of my ‘wages’ back home this whole time.”
He stared at her, confused. “But how?”
Bell shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess the Fae’s part of the deal – that they take care of my father – includes money and letters,” she lied. She was almost certain that Sidero had been the one behind it; Bell sincerely doubted whether the nonhuman Fae would have ever thought of such things. She had no reason to lie, but something in her gut made her hesitate before explaining her theory on Sidero’s involvement.
“That… that seems very weird.”
“I agree. But I don’t want to question it too much since it’s been instrumental to them.”
Before Alder could reply, he let out a loud sneeze. They both froze, surprised.
“Did you just sneeze?”
With a bemused look on his face, he nodded. “I don’t remember the last time I sneezed. How weird,” he laughed. “Let’s go out to the grounds. I feel like getting some fresh air – seems rather stuffy in here.”
Alder began to sneeze increasingly over the next several days. Although he laughed each sneeze off, Bell became progressively more worried. In her time here, neither of them had sneezed. Thinking back on it, she couldn’t remember Fluffy sneezing either.
If she didn’t know better, Bell would have thought that Alder was starting to get a cold, which was impossible. You couldn’t get sick or die here – what would be the point of the eternal punishment if you didn’t get to experience it?
“Belladonna, if you don’t stop trying to feel my forehead, I’m going to go hide with Fluffy. I can’t focus on my book because I’m too busy trying to dodge your freezing hands.”
She withdrew her hand from his face; she had been trying to casually play off the check by brushing something off his cheek. Plopping back down in her chair, she glared at him. “You can say whatever you want, but I think you’re getting sick. Which you can’t be doing since it’s not allowed. Which means if you are, we have a major problem.”
“Will you please stop. I am not getting sick; I feel just fine.” His declaration was undercut by a deep cough. “I swallowed wrong.” He said mildly, refusing to lift his eyes from his book.
“What did you swallow? It’s not like you were drinking anything,” she pointed out.
He looked at her keeping his face as innocent as possible. “Umm… spit.”
Glaring daggers at him, she rose. “I’m going to bed,” she hissed, her genuine concern for him coming out as anger at his thick-headedness.
Bell was still awake when Alder came to bed but pretended to be asleep, too irritated with him to converse further. Her worry only increased when he slid under the covers. Even though he was all the way on the other side of the spacious bed, she could feel the heat radiating off him. Biting her lip, she didn’t move, waiting for him to fall asleep before checking on him.
Somewhere around midnight, he started a fitful ruckus when his previously deep breaths turned into labored coughs. Crawling over to him, she shook his shoulder. Nothing happened. She pressed her hand to his forehead. Even before her cold skin made contact Bell could tell there was something terribly wrong. The heat was rising from his forehead as if she was holding her hand over a lit stove.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, crawling back over to her side to hop off. Running to where the basin and jug sat, she found both empty. The sight was so unusual that it froze her brain. After processing the information, she gasped, “Are you kidding me?”
Grabbing the jug, she ran to the bathroom. Turning on the tap water gushed out, filling the pitcher to the top. Bell hurried back to the bedroom, grabbing a cloth on the way. Reaching Alder, she stripped the blankets off, exposing his sweat-drenched nightclothes.
“I told you. I told you!” she muttered, angrily wiping his brow with the cool cloth. It became apparent the water wasn’t doing enough to lower his temperature. Sweat beaded as quickly as she wiped it away. “You need to be cooled off. If I could carry you a cold bath would be the best thing, but I can’t move you by myself, and even if I could the bathtub is much too deep – I’m scared you’d drown. I don
’t know what to do…”
She held her head in her hands, concentrating on not letting the panic overwhelm her. If she kept it at bay, she could figure something out – that’s how she had solved their financial problems with Papa.
“Okay,” Bell said, speaking to herself. “Alder needs to be cooled down immediately. The cloth isn’t doing enough. What’s colder that I have on hand? I can make a fever tea later, but right now, I need him to get cooled fast. Wait. There should be ice in the icebox downstairs.”
Jumping up to leave, a wracking cough reminded her Alder was lying on the bed. Bell wet the cloth and laid it dripping across his forehead. Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, “I’ll be right back. Please be okay until then.”
Opening the door to the hallway, she realized none of the lights were lit. “Really?! You’ve decided not to behave right now? What a stupid house!” She stomped down the hall, grateful the moon shining through the high windows gave off sufficient light for her to see.
Reaching the kitchen, she hurried to the icebox. In it, she saw that the big ice block hadn’t been broken into smaller pieces yet. “Wow, you really are going out of your way to be unhelpful,” she accused the house before grabbing the pick and starting to chip away at the ice. Once she had a bowl full of small bits, she closed the door and hurried back upstairs.
The cloth on his forehead had dried in the short time she had been gone. Grabbing a large ice chip, Bell rubbed it across his skin. He hissed at the initial touch of cold but calmed, still entrapped in his fevered sleep.
By the time the sun had started peeping over the horizon, Bell was exhausted. She had had to go downstairs for ice four more times during the night. Her arms were sore from breaking up the ice, and her back ached from bending over him all night, but his fever had cooled. He still seemed too warm, but his skin was no longer scorching.
Rose Bound Magic Page 14