“I’m borrowing your cloak. You left it with me.” I take it off quickly and hold it out. “You can have it back now.”
He doesn’t move. The bundled weight of his cloak slips from my hand to the floor. He watches it fall with his arms folded. “What, exactly, are you doing in here?”
“There was a bird.”
“A what?”
“It was trapped in here. I had to open your window to let it free.”
A sudden gust of wind whips through the room. The curtains snap back and forth with a cascade of dust. We both sneeze.
“A bird?That’s why you came sneaking around?”
Rowan sneezes again, and I start to laugh at him when he scrunches up his face against the dust. He shoves his way through the curtains and pushes at the window, but it’s just as stubborn to close as it was to open.
“It’s stuck. Here, let me help.” I take hold of the frame. My shoulder brushes against his, and our hands are so close together they almost touch. “And I wasn’t sneaking. I have better things to do than poke around your bedroom.”
“I’ve had a long enough day without your particular foolishness, Violeta.”
He gives the sash another shove, and the window slamsshut, the impact rattling through the glass. We both jump. The curtains, stilled, flutter down and make a soft wall between us and the rest of the room. Unfiltered sunlight streams over us. I look at him, and I want to touch the scars that cross the side of his jaw, his mouth. I keep my hands at my sides to stop myself from reaching.
“Was it very awful in the village?”
“What do you think?” He sighs. “The latest rumor is that Clover and I are trying to perform some kind of blood sacrifice.”
I glance toward his bandaged arm. “I mean, they’re notentirelywrong.”
He lets out a tired laugh, then starts to unfold his sleeves and smooth them back down. “I’m sure it delights you to know everyone shares your opinion that I’m a monster.”
I pretend to study him. “You’re not even a very good monster. Really, you need fangs.”
“Fangs?”
“Or perhaps a tail. You could twitch it when you were angry.”
“If Ididhave a tail, it would be twitching now.”
I can’t help but smile. He’s a monster. He’s a boy. Sad and cross. He parts the curtains and holds them open for me. I slip through the narrow space, and he steps out of my way, looking at my nightdress with a grimace.
“You’re still covered in dirt from last night.” He walks out after me. The room dims as the curtains fall shut behind him.
I look down at myself. My nightdress is filthy, and my hairis tangled, with mud clotted at the ends of my curls. I start to laugh. “Have I infringed on your standards of cleanliness? I’ve not had time to change since we went to the lake.”
“You might want a bath before dinner.”
Unlike me, Rowan is neatly dressed. The bandage on his wrist is the only hint of disarray from last night. An irascible urge comes over me to loosen him. Make him untidy. To step dusty footprints onto his boots or untuck his shirt. Crumple him.
“What’s the matter? Are you worried I’ll ruin your nice clean shirt?”
I grab his sleeve and crush the fabric inside my fist. He catches my hand, horrified. “There’s still blood under your fingernails!”
“It’s your blood!” I fall against his chest, still laughing, warmed by the utter delight of teasing him.
He glares down at me. “You are a complete menace.”
He’s still holding my hand, and I lace my fingers through his. A spark flares through my whole body: chest to ribs to fingertips. Heat stirs beneath my skin, like there’s a garden of bright flowers blossoming in my veins.
Light flickers between our joined hands.
