by Kate Sparkes
We left the kitchen to visit the orchard, and Auphel gleefully hacked apart far more apples than I needed. I mixed them with butter and something that smelled like cinnamon, then wrapped the mess inside a flat slab of dough.
“That looks horrid,” Auphel noted, though not without great interest. “Humans have such strange tastes.”
“It will probably taste horrid, too. I’ve never been much of a cook. More of a takeout girl.”
Auphel’s confused look led to a discussion about my world that carried us through the time it took the makeshift apple flip to bake… or rather, through the time it took to burn on the outside while remaining raw in the middle, and then through the process of trying again.
Explaining the use of telephones and computers to order food was nearly impossible.
“So it’s like I said. You do know magic.”
“No, we really don’t have it in my world. It’s technology. Research and experimentation and… physics.” I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know how it all works, exactly.”
“But you can talk to another human on the other side of the world. Even see them.”
“Right.”
“Because of the electri-thingy. And machines with tiny parts that remember things without them being written down. They’re just… there.”
I laughed. “There are people in my world who could explain it. I’m just not one of them.”
She gave me a look that said I must be pulling her leg about the whole thing.
We sat together on the floor, and I offered her a bite of the pastry (which was still a bit doughy in the middle, but quite delicious). She pronounced it “not bad,” but refused seconds. “Ogres don’t go in for baked goods and such,” she said. “Some of the palace monsters were cooks for the humans, but I don’t think you’ll have much luck getting them to help you.”
“No. It’s a start, though.” I could work with this bread, and I’d see what else I could salvage in the garden. Surely there had to be meat around somewhere, but I didn’t want to ask. They’d probably tell me I’d have to kill it myself.
The door swung open. Zinian stepped in, looking serious, and I held back the urge to vomit my meal all over the smooth stone floor at the realization that my punishment had come. Maybe I shouldn’t be worrying about food if I was doomed anyway.
He nodded cordially to Auphel. “Having fun?” he asked.
“I was. Why are you… What’s happening?” Her brow furrowed.
“I need to speak with Hazel alone.”
My heart stilled. It will be fine. Nothing to worry about. It’s just a terrifying monster who hates humans coming to tell you how you’ll be punished for pissing them all off. Not a big deal.
I forced myself to stand. He’d already seen me on my knees, begging for my life. I didn’t feel like repeating that. I doubted I had it in me to go out with grace and dignity, but he might listen to a rational argument.
At least they hadn’t sent Jaid or that other ogre. Zinian was reasonable, if not necessarily soft-hearted.
I tried not to remember the cold hate in his eyes when he’d snapped the head off the human doll.
Auphel shuffled away as Zinian stepped closer to me. “You won’t just take her away without telling me, will you?” she asked, her voice timid.
Zinian smiled at her, with more warmth than I’d seen in him before. “You’ll know before anything happens, I promise.”
I supposed that should make me feel better. It didn’t.
After Auphel left, Zinian looked around the kitchen. “Quite the mess.”
“I know. I’ll clean it up. If I get a chance, I mean.”
“Hmm. Shall we talk outside?”
As we walked, I noted that the pants he now wore were clean and far less ragged than the others had been. Still no shirt. I supposed it might be hard to find one that fit his shape—the broad shoulders, the extra muscles on his chest and back, and the wings that needed so much room to move. All told, it wasn’t a bad view—or it wouldn’t have been if my mind had been in any kind of shape to appreciate such things.
Or if we weren’t different species.
More importantly, I noted that he wasn’t carrying any weapons. Though he couldn’t leave his claws, horns, or teeth behind, he’d done me the courtesy of removing his sword.
“Do I at least get a trial?” I asked as we stepped into the cooler air of the kitchen garden.
Zinian didn’t answer until we’d passed through the smashed door into the orchard. “No.”
“I see.”
He turned to face me and crossed his arms. “Grys agreed to preserve the library. Books from houses and shops will be burned tonight, along with other items we wish to see destroyed. But he agrees that we could benefit from keeping the memory of what we survived, and that there may turn out to be information there we won’t want to lose yet.”
I relaxed slightly. At least it wasn’t all for nothing.
“I had to tell him it was mostly my idea,” he continued. “If he knew the arguments came from you, it would have been the end of the discussion.”
“Fine by me.” The less Grys thought about me, the better. “Does that mean I’m not in trouble?”
“No. I told him that you’d brought the issue to my attention.”
“Why—Oh. You don’t want Jaid to be angry with you.”
It hadn’t been a question, but he nodded. “She’s not wrong about my situation. If anyone so much as suspects that I’m protecting you, it will cause trouble for me. Jaid is an old friend, and the last person I can afford to offend. So while we may in the end be grateful for your intervention, Grys ordered me to think of an appropriate way to remind you of your proper place in this world.”
He flexed his fingers and looked down at his dark claws.
A chill came over me, and I felt ill again. “What is it?”
“It’s terrible.”
“Tell me!”
He took a deep breath. “You’re to be sentenced to reorganization of the library.”
“What?” My stomach dropped. “That’s it? I expected you to say you had to break my legs, or whip me, or…” I felt light-headed, and sat on the ground next to a broken tomato plant. I rubbed a leaf between my fingers, releasing their comfortingly familiar, earthy scent.
He smiled down at me.
“So you do have a sense of humour,” I said when I was able to raise my head from between my knees. “I was beginning to wonder.”
“There hasn’t been much call for one for some time,” he said, and offered a hand to pull me to my feet. His smile had disappeared, but his grasp was gentle. “The punishment is no joke. You may soon wish you had been whipped. At least that would be done quickly. We’ll have the giants move the books back to the building for you before dark, but you will be responsible for the rest of it. Sort through, see what’s worth salvaging and what’s not, re-shelve them. I imagine the shelves will need to be rebuilt in places, and the clean-up required will be significant. There’s a human apartment on the top level of the building, and you’ll live there.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Under Auphel’s care, of course. It’s going to take ages to get all of that done. And I suppose by the time you’ve finished all of that, you’ll be asked to stay on. You’ll be the only one with any idea where to find things. Might be hard for you to leave and go to a human settlement in the country. You’ll be trapped here with your key and all these doors it will surely never unlock, though I have no doubt you’ll keep trying.” Zinian set his fists on his hips and seemed to have a hard time holding back a grin. “It’s the cruelest punishment I could think of.”
I smiled, slowly. “Terrible. You should watch yourself from here on out. I know how to hold a grudge.”
In fact, I didn’t. I’d never liked grudges any more than I’d liked confrontations or unpredictable situations.
“Thank you,” I said. Something passed between us then. Mutual understanding, at the very least. I decided that
I wanted to know more about him. He was intriguing, not to mention tolerant of me. I needed as many friends as I could get here, even if those friends had made streets run red with blood.
His humour made him seem more familiar and friendly, revealing a side of him I thought I could like quite a lot. Maybe nothing in this world was black and white, any more than it was in mine.
I caught my gaze slipping down the hard planes of his upper body and forced myself to look at his eyes.
Friends, Hazel. You need friends. That’s all.
He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome. I don’t imagine this will be an easy adjustment for you, being here. But at least you’ll have something to do, and I’ll see that you’re compensated for your work.” He frowned. “But don’t expect this sort of lenience again. If you get it into your head to step out of line and it reflects badly on me—”
“I won’t. I’ll be good as… as…” Not gold. They didn’t pay for anything with it. “I’ll be good,” I finished.
“I hope so. You have a promising mind, and I believe a far kinder spirit than the humans of this world. If you can find a way to fit in here, I think you could do quite well. Give it time, though.”
The way he looked at me made me uncomfortable. As though he was studying me and liked what he saw.
“I should go,” I said, at the same time as he said, “Have supper with me tonight.”
“What?”
He smiled, awkwardly this time. “You look like you could use a good meal. I’m curious to hear about where you come from, and thought you might wish to learn a little more about our world.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I have no desire to attend the bonfire, and everyone else will be gone.”
The idea of being alone with him in the palace made me shiver, and yet I wasn’t afraid he’d hurt me. Not now. His eyes looked deep into mine, searching for something. They were quite beautiful, really. Like liquid emeralds.
I straightened my shoulders. “That sounds quite pleasant. Thank you.”
I’m not attracted to him, I decided. I was objectively aware of his attractiveness as a creature. That was all. I ignored the warmth that shot through me when he smiled again, a slightly roguish glint in his eyes.
Besides, a monster and a human couldn’t… I mean, surely even in this world it wouldn’t be… Would it?
Hazel. No.
The very idea of searching for love back home had frayed my nerves since I’d booted jackass of the year out of my heart, and the risks would be far greater here, even with a human.
Which he’s definitely not.
I followed him into the kitchen where Auphel waited. “What’s happening?” she asked.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “We’re moving out of the palace. I’ll explain later.”
Her massive shoulders relaxed. “That’s good news.”
Zinian reached the door and turned back.
“Hazel?”
“Yes?”
He gave me a quick once-over and pressed his lips together. “You might want to see about a bath before supper.”
It wasn’t until he left and I found a shiny pot I could use as a mirror that I realized he’d been trying to bite back a laugh. My hair was streaked with hardened bread dough, and a smudge of flour covered the bridge of my nose.
And I’d looked this fantastic the whole time we’d been speaking. Whatever I’d thought might have passed between us had nothing to do with my own appeal, that was for certain.
“At least I know he’s not interested in any funny business,” I muttered, and scrubbed my nose with the filthy sleeve of my dress. The realization brought as much relief as embarrassment.
I loosened the ribbon that held my hair, but the grease and dough kept it solidly in place. I was suddenly aware of how dirty my feet were—I’d abandoned the golden slippers after they got blood on them, and had found nothing to replace them. I must smell lovely.
“Auphel, are there baths here?”
She grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Nine
After unheated baths in massive white marble tubs in a room with an incredible view of the sprawling city below, Auphel and I hurried back to Verelle’s rooms. I didn’t think of them as my rooms, and was glad that I never would. Though the space was beautiful, rich, and relaxing, I wanted nothing to do with this mysterious queen. I was stuck with her wardrobe, but at least that would be the extent of it as soon as I moved to the library.
Auphel lounged on the carpet, picking at loose fibres, as I laid dresses out on the bed.
“The white one is nice,” she offered.
I held the gauzy fabric against myself in front of the mirror. “It’s gorgeous, but it won’t work. The open neckline would be too showy for someone with my curves.”
She nodded. “Verelle looked like you could snap her in half as easy as a twig. You seem more solid.”
“Thanks, Auphel.” That might not have been a compliment where I came from, but she obviously meant it to be. I had to keep reminding myself that this was a different world. I couldn’t expect anyone here to understand why showing off that much skin would bother me.
But why shouldn’t I wear something eye-catching? I was the only human around, and it wasn’t as though Zinian was going to care any more than I would if a dog wore a sweater that didn’t fit right.
Still, I couldn’t help wondering about that as I slipped into the white gown and turned in front of the mirror. The dress was far more revealing than anything I’d have dared at home. The top was well-constructed enough, but gave the appearance of being little more than two broad strips of fabric, gathered at the shoulders and crossed at the front to attach to the waistline of the flowing, many-layered skirt. I imagined Zinian’s bright green eyes looking me over, and my heart skipped.
Stop being a friggin’ idiot.
I turned to Auphel. “Does this look silly?”
She shrugged. “I don’t understand human fashions. But you look nice. You should leave your hair down. Humans here always wore it up.”
“Hmm.” Without a blow-dryer or straightener, my hair was quickly drying into a mess of loose waves, looking a little flat at the top. I compromised by choosing a blue and silver comb from Verelle’s dressing table that I used to hold my hair back on one side. Better. But…
I leaned closer to the mirror and frowned. It had been years since I’d wanted to leave the house without foundation and mascara as a bare minimum. Though my acne wasn’t quite as bad as it had been a few years before, my skin was dotted with the shadows of scars across my chin and forehead, and I broke out once a month like hormone-driven clockwork. My mother had taught me to cover them up when I was fourteen, and I’d never looked back.
I dug through the drawers and was pleased to find a few promising items housed in beautiful cut-glass jars—red cream for lips and cheeks, dark inky liquid for lining eyes, browns and blues for eyelids. I rubbed a little of a pale apricot-coloured cream on the back of one hand and drew a sharp breath as it made my veins invisible and the wrinkles on my knuckles disappear. It blended perfectly to my slightly paler skin tone and tingled pleasantly as my skin drank it in.
“I could make a fortune with this stuff at home,” I mused, and spread a little along my jawline to test the colour there.
Auphel hauled herself up from the floor and sat on the edge of the bed to watch. She wrinkled her nose. “What are you doing?”
“Making myself pretty.”
She sighed. “Verelle’s secret weapon, I suppose.”
I paused and watched the cream smooth my skin. “Monsters don’t use this, do you?”
“Not at all. I don’t understand it. Why would you want to cover your beautiful face markings?”
I watched her in the mirror, watching me. I’d considered her ugly when we first met, but now I thought nothing of her strange appearance. She was Auphel. Not an ogress or a terrifying monster, but my kind-hearted friend. And as our eyes met in the mirror, I understood th
at she was beautiful. Not as my world judged beauty, but on her own terms. The dark blotches on her green skin reminded me of lichen on rocks hidden in a mysterious forest. Her black eyes held the depths of the night sky, and her massive, protruding jaw displayed her incredible strength. The graceless limp she walked with and the scars on her arms showed that she’d lived a hard life and come through it stronger and wiser.
And here I was worried that a few blemishes would turn the stomach of a horned demon monster. I shook my head at myself.
I didn’t know how I was supposed to make myself presentable when human beauty was an abomination, but I knew I wanted to distance myself from the humans of this world.
I grabbed a cloth and rubbed the makeup off my face, trying to ignore the blossoming realization that I was going to be very lonely indeed if I couldn’t go home. Jake had been a shit boyfriend, and no great loss, but I would miss that kind of relationship. I knew I could make it alone, but I wanted someone to laugh with, to cuddle with at night, to love passionately.
And a life of celibacy… how horrible.
I pushed those thoughts aside. Things had changed, and I was the only human in town. Nothing to be done about it until I found a way to use the key again.
“Better?” I asked as I turned around, bare-faced.
Auphel’s eyes disappeared in deep wrinkles as she smiled. “Much.”
I ran my fingers through my hair again. “You must think I’m so silly. Do you mind doing all this? Finding me food and following me around? I promise I’ll be more self-sufficient soon.”
She leaned back on the bed. “No. I didn’t like you running from me, but I’m glad they think you need guarding. This is much nicer than fighting, or whatever they’d have me do next.”
I sat next to her and tucked my legs under my skirt.
“The war must have been horrible for you.”
She nodded. “I was barely beginning my adult years when they took me for the army. I didn’t know anything outside of my home and my family. I’d tussled with my brothers, of course. They hurt me, I hurt them… I miss them sometimes. But that didn’t prepare me for real fighting. Killing.” She rubbed her leg, then lay silent for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “I have terrible dreams about the people I killed and about friends I lost in the battles. I’m happy to be here with you instead of in the streets.”