by Sara Bushway
Was he studying magic under Anastasia's roof? he wondered. How? And Why?
Honey closed the drawer and opened the next one down. Inside were notebooks full of writing. Honey cursed his inability to read some of the scripts, but from what he could gather, Nixo had become an apprentice to a wizard after his parents passed away from a plague and was sold to Anastasia after his master died.
What horrible luck.
In the latter pages of the notebook were lines written in the unusual script; magical script, Honey guessed. Some of them were short, barely taking up half a line, while others took up many lines like the paragraphs in the books he had been reading. He turned the page and immediately noticed how some of the words had an odd sheen about them. It seemed to be the same black ink and thick script, but the light coming in from the window seemed to bend at an odd angle on the words, as though the ink might still be wet. Honey reached down and touched one of the longer spells on the page. As the tips of Honey's fingers grazed the ink, he felt the magic surge through his hand and up his arm. The words on the page glowed a vibrant blue that lit up the whole room. The magic pulsed through Honey again, through his fingers, up his arm, down his spine, and through his legs. When the magic hit the floor, the whole house shook as though the earth underneath the house had shifted. All of the furniture in the room creaked as it slid off-kilter by a few inches. The paintings on the wall were all slightly askew. The drawers of the desk had all slid open, and the pen on top rolled over the edge and onto the floor.
Honey gasped and released the notebook, dropping it into the open drawer, but panic held his breath from him. There was a sound like Anastasia's voice down the hall, but Honey couldn't hear what she said. Swear words sped through his mind as he hurriedly closed all of the drawers and tried to slide the paintings back into place. He pressed his hands into the side of the bed frame and slid it back into place.
There, he thought, Now no one has to know.
He turned and stopped dead in his tracks.
"What are you doing in here, Honey?" Anastasia's voice sounded calm, but her face was twisted in angry horror. Honey was frozen in her stare. "I asked you a question," she chided. "What are you doing in here? How did you even get in here?"
"I..uh-I...It--"
She shook her head. "Don't you dare play stupid with me: you and your street smarts. I should have known you would have trouble following the simplest house rules. You do come from a low-class establishment."
That hurt Honey deeply. If the words had come from anyone other than her, Honey might have had some choice words for them, very unkind words, but it was Anastasia.
"I-I-I'm sorry," he managed and swallowed hard. "I just...It was open--"
"Don't bother," she said. "This door has been locked for some time. I am the only one with a key to this room. It wouldn't have just been unlocked and waiting for you to come in, but no matter. Honey, you are grounded. No outings with Dane, no personal time in your room with your toys - or the twins' toys, for that matter-, and no sweets for a month. You'll do chores from sunrise to sunset, excluding mealtimes and sleeping." Honey tried to apologize again, but her stern stance and pointed finger directed him out of the room and into his own. He dressed for bed, opting not to leave his room even to shower, and laid down on his bed. Surely, Anastasia would see to it that the room was re-locked and possibly watched over by someone or maybe Ashelynn. It made him sad that he wouldn't get to see the other notebooks or try out any of the other shiny texts in the notebooks. The magic coursing through him, though momentary, had scared him a first, but seeing what it could do with just a simple touch made him curious about the other spells and even made him miss the feeling of the magic tingling through him.
So he was magical, he thought, and could read and write..and could paint. How talented.
*****
Over the next few weeks, Honey began to master leaving and returning before his absence was noticed, as well as a very basic level of reading. After making his way through an entire shelf of the children’s section, Chroma insisted he was ready to move up to some more mature reading and recommended some favorites of hers from elementary school. Dane was quite impressed with Honey’s progression, but Honey didn’t feel the same. He was struggling again with unfamiliar words, some of which he felt the need to look up in the dictionary because they were unfamiliar turns of phrase. It felt like a step back, but Dane and Chroma separately encouraged him to keep trying.
Jaq injured himself while rearranging Anastasia's bedroom furniture, so his summons began showing up under Honey's door. Honey had never minded being a sex worker until the sound of the first note sliding under his door interrupted his reading time. Suddenly, it was quite clear as to why Beaumont and Anastasia had reservations about their workers having hobbies of their own. He sighed with mild annoyance, buried his rented novel and dictionary in a box in his closet, and primped himself before heading down the hall to Anastasia's room. Honey gasped as it suddenly opened, and Ettie peered out at him.
"What took you so long?" He said through gritted teeth and pulled Honey into the room by the neck of his shirt. The door closed behind them, and Honey smoothed his shirt as Ettie released his grip. Anastasia looked up at the two from her relaxed position on the bed. She wore a short, sheer night-gown of dark red, her dark hair draping down over her shoulders, and the stem of a half-full wineglass pinched between the fingers of her left hand. She smiled up at them.
"It's alright, Ettie. Honey didn't take that long," she said. "Now, are we ready to get started?"
Honey's gaze bounced between Ettie and his lady several times with uncertainty. He had never been called in with another to service her and wasn't sure of what was expected of him. Was he to perform for her, allowing her to watch while he and Ettie…? Or were they both going to service her together, something he was a little more familiar with from his previous employer? A few uncomfortable moments passed, with no indication of a plan. Deciding to cater to his instincts, Honey sauntered over to the bed to tend to her needs and leave Ettie to his own devices. Out of the corner of Honey’s eye, he could see that Ettie had stripped down on his way over to the bed and began stripping himself.
"Ew!" Ettie exclaimed as Honey's jeans slid to the floor. Honey stopped and looked at himself.
"What?" Honey asked, looking around on the bed. "Is there a spider or something?"
"That!" Ettie screeched, pointing at the scars on Honey's body. His finger seemed to draw a line from where they started on his chest down to Honey's thighs. "Gross! What the hell? I can't keep it up while I have to look at all of that!"
Anastasia looked from one boy to the other.
"Oh, come on, Ettie," she chided. "That's not nice."
Honey's chest began to hurt. They were both looking at him. One with disgust and the other with pity, neither of which were appreciated.
"It looks like he tried to stick his stem into a woodchipper," Ettie continued. "That's—"
"They look much better than they once did," Honey said, covering himself with his shirt, though it wasn't nearly enough to cover all of the scars. "They're getting better. Dane is helping—"
"Gross," Ettie said. "Repulsive. No wonder you're here. I bet you weren't able to make enough coin to be worth the hassle."
That did it. Honey's eyes burned with tears as he quickly gathered his clothing and tore down the hall to his own room, slamming the door behind him. He felt humiliated. This was worse than the night his music and costumes had been set out wrong backstage of the lounge at Beaumont's mansion. Worse than when the power had gone out in the middle of Winter, and he and the girls had to put on all of the clothes they owned to stay warm, causing their hour-long appointments to be more dressing and undressing than actual work.
Honey sobbed as he dressed, sickened by his own body and terrified that Ettie pointing out his flaws would somehow make Anastasia rethink her purchase.
There was a knock at the door.
"Honey," she said softly
on the other side. "Honey, I'm coming in."
Honey wiped his face with a clean shirt, tossed it into the laundry basket, and sat down on the bed, trying hard to look like he hadn't just had his self-confidence ripped to shreds. "Ok."
She slipped in and closed the door behind her, minding her gossamer gown as she did so. "Are you alright?"
Honey nodded to give himself another moment to regroup before speaking.
"Yes, I'm fine. I…suppose I'm just...unable to perform tonight. I'm sorry."
Anastasia sat down on the bed next to him. He could feel her big, dark eyes probing him, wanting him.
"That's alright," she said. "It happens to everyone from time to time. I'm sorry that Ettie was so harsh with you. I didn't know that you hadn't talked to him about it."
Honey shrugged, his eyes idly burning holes into the pattern of the comforter. "It's alright. The others know. I just never needed to tell him, so I never did. I kind of thought he would be a bit of a jerk about it. I guess if I had told him before this, it might not have happened this way."
"Well, Ettie isn't perfect either," she replied, "and he has no place to be acting like that."
They sat in silence together for several moments while Honey desperately tried to keep his thoughts regarding Ettie to himself. She stood up and started toward the closet.
"Let's find you something comfortable to wear and get you to bed," she said. Panic filled Honey's head with ideas of how to get her away from the box that held his secret. Sadly, there were so many ideas that he couldn't seem to grasp one in time.
"What's this?"
His heart sank as he watched her turn from the closet, the box in her hands. Before he could answer, the box was on the bed next to him, and she removed each of the two books from it, placing them on the bed next to it.
"A dictionary?" She asked. "And a…fantasy novel? Where did you get these?"
"From the library," Honey rattled off, standing up off the bed. "The novel, that is. The dictionary is Dane's."
Her eyes narrowed at him. "Why is there a dictionary and a novel from the library in your room?"
"Be—because…Because…" He swallowed hard and licked his lips in an attempt to make himself comfortable, but the pain in his chest and the lump in his throat were fighting against him. "Because I'm trying to learn to read," he finally managed. "I can read some—not much, I guess—"
"Just stop," she demanded. "Look, I know this might seem unfair, but this is not okay."
Honey stared at her.
Anastasia sighed and sat down on the bed. "I know this sounds very unfair, but you shouldn't borrow books from the library. You can't go out all the time like Dane does, so you can't guarantee that you can return it on time."
"Unless you allowed me to just for that," he replied. His voice was weak and shaky. "You could even have Dane take me. I don’t mind. I like Dane."
She sighed and drew her eyes up to the ceiling, obviously frustrated with the situation.
"It's not just about that, Honey," she began. "It's about having to come and go multiple times alone and not having enough time for all of your duties. Dane doesn't sleep well most nights, and that's when he gets most of his reading done. It doesn't interfere with his chores because he had more time than most to get things done."
Honey blinked at her. "So, I shouldn't read because I might not get my chores done?"
"Right."
"But I always do," he argued back in a child-like fashion. "I always have my chores done in plenty of time to help the others with theirs and still rest before dinner. I won't let reading get in the way."
"Then, perhaps, it is more chores you need," Anastasia said coldly. "If you need a hobby, you must need more to do."
"No, that's—"
"Honey, stop," she interrupted him. "You have a place in this home, but there are rules you must follow. You may share Jez's puzzle-game-thing or take up tending the plants in the solarium, or even practice your servicing skills with the other boys, but reading is a time-consuming hobby that doesn't help you here. You're to help Dane and the others keep the house and be here when I call upon you. Is that clear?"
Honey was stunned. She had never sounded so cold and heartless in all of the time he'd known her. She was just another Beaumont.
Do as you’re asked and wait until you’re needed again, Honey thought. That’s the life I just left, and here I am again. It’s just a bigger, nicer House where I have one client, but she still has me by the—
"Honey," she said again. "I'm going to help you." She held the novel in her left hand, and with a wave of her right, it lit up and burned away into ash.
"No!" Honey shrieked. "It's not mine!"
"Now you won't have to worry about taking it back," she said, matter-of-factly, dusting her hands off over the floor. "No worries. I'll pay the fine, and we'll forget this ever happened." She stood, picked up Dane's dictionary, and started toward the door. "You're grounded to your room for the next three days. As punishment for his actions tonight, Ettie will do your chores while you're in here." She put her hand on the doorknob and turned to face Honey. "Your meals will be brought up to you, and someone will be here to escort you to and from the bathroom in the morning and before bed. Goodnight."
Before Honey could even get another word out to defend himself, she was through the door. Just when he thought his chest couldn't hurt any more than it already did, the lock clicked, and his heart sank further into his stomach.
Chapter Eleven
The first night of Honey's grounding was the most boring night of his life. He missed the books he had been hiding in his room and pondered how many times he could have read the novel during his imprisonment. He suspected that, as with his first book, he would be able to read it more quickly and with greater understanding each time through. As the night drew on and bedtime passed, he found that he even missed his old occupation. He was never too awake to sleep at the ends of those shifts, especially when he was performing in the lounge.
A knock at the door sent him scrambling to his feet. He messed his hair and smoothed his clothes, in case it was his lady at the door and opened it.
"Uh...Ashelynn?"
It blinked at him and stepped back.
Honey looked up and down the hall. "I don't know what you want, but I'm in trouble. I can't leave my room."
Ashelynn took a turn peering up and down the hall, then held its hand out to him.
"No, Ashelynn. I'm already in enough trouble. No offense, but I don't think I'd like to become a Nobody like the other boy."
Ashelynn's eyes narrowed, and it offered its hand more insistently.
What little he could see of its face told him this was important. Maybe one of the boys was hurt, or the lady needed him for something.
"Alright," Honey sighed and stepped out into the hall, "but if you get me in trouble, I am going to be very unhappy with you."
Ashelynn reached past Honey and closed his door, then grabbed him by the wrist and started down the hall. Honey gasped at its sudden touch, expecting some kind of immediate punishment, but continued following it anyway. It led him down the hall and down the stairs. It seemed all of the boys were in their rooms, and the lady was either indisposed or out. No one was around to see Ashelynn acting out in such a way and leading him out into the garden. It dragged him out to the far corner of the lawn where the rose bushes met. It stopped suddenly, nearly knocking him off his feet. He caught himself and looked at the ground.
"What? What is it, Ashelynn? What's this about?"
It looked at him and pointed into the bushes. Honey met its gaze for a few moments and then followed the direction of its gloved finger to the ground. He knelt down and felt around in the grass.
"Did you put something here? It feels..different from the ground around it."
Ashelynn pointed more insistently at the spot, urging him on. Honey felt around in the grass, searching for the edge of the hard ground, and found a corner.
"A piece of sod,"
Honey said, pulling up the corner of a grass square. "Most people only put this down where grass won't grow on its own. I read about it in one of Dane's books." He turned and looked up at it. "Don't tell anyone, huh?"
Its eyes narrowed, and it pointed to the ground again. Honey pulled up the rest of the square and brushed the dirt around, revealing a metal box covered in ornate filigree and gold inlays.
"It's beautiful," Honey said, scraping the dirt away from the edges of the box. "I wonder what's--"
There it was. Printed on a plaque on the front of the box was the word "Nixo." The hinges of the box creaked as he opened it.
"Ashes," Honey whispered. "These are his ashes." He turned and looked up at Ashelynn. "She didn't sell him. She killed him." Ashelynn blinked at him. "Of course, that makes sense. Why wouldn't she have kept him as a Nobody? She kept you. But...she killed him. He was disobedient. Not worth the trouble, I guess." Ashelynn's gaze dropped to the ground.
Honey swallowed hard and closed the box. "I see why you brought me here. You're worried about me. You probably know more about what's going on in the house than anyone, even Dane. If you think I should be worried, then I am." He re-buried the box in the ground, smoothing the dry dirt over it and patting the square of sod down over it. "I've heard that the world won't let things grow where evil has planted its seed," he said, hoping that making conversation might make this moment less terrifying for him. "The rest of her yard grows in vibrant colors, but the grass won't even grow here. I wonder what that says about what she's done."
"What I've done," Dane's deep voice echoed through the yard. Honey turned as he continued, "She made me do it. She didn't want any of her high-class friends to think she needed the money. Truthfully, she doesn't. But mercy for him came at too high of a price for her liking, so she told me how and when to do it. Then she had him picked up by a coroner and cremated. She put him in one of her old make-up cases. I made that little plaque with his name on it and affixed it to the box without her knowing. I thought it wasn't right to bury him without his name. It just seemed unfair."