Page 13 of Knave

“Mmm, so like a present to one another.” Mouse smiled and nudged his shoulder with hers, then shifted in her seat so she could hide her canvas better. Ferris grinned and mirrored her movements. They spent the next two hours working on their art as Linda led the group in replicating her own painting. The mortals laughed and drank as they moved their brushes. He and Mouse stayed focused, his gaze every so often sliding to the milky skin of her face, her neck, her shoulder, stirring something within him that had been hidden for so long.

In the end, Ferris had created a sky of blues and blacks. Stars flecked across the landscape where he ran his thumb over the brush, to splatter white paint in a fine mist. In the top corner, he crafted a full moon and spread a cloud over the bottom half. Two more wispy clouds cut across the image. It was his perfect sky—one meant to be gazed at from below in wonder.

“Ready to share?” he asked Mouse.

She remained quiet.

“Mouse?” He shifted to face her. “Do you need more time?”

She shook her head and slid her canvas toward him. Ferris peered down to find the entire square painted black. The paint was thick, the brush strokes choppy and sharp, as if she tried desperately to force the canvas to become even darker. “You said to paint how we feel,” she explained.

Fuck.Ferris dropped his canvas to the table and scooped her out of her chair. They needed to get back to Wonderland and away from the prying eyes of mortals. Then she needed to talk to him, tell him exactly what was going on and how he could help her. Doing nothing was obviously not helping. Sleeping beside her. Offering her distractions with games and books. Comforting her. None of that was enough. He needed to do something more, be someone better, to helpher. More than ever, he was relieved he’d listened to Chess and kept the Jabberwocky quill a secret. She didn’t need added pressure.

“What did I do wrong?” she squeaked as he raced away from the pub, heading toward the portal back to Ivory, with her tucked against him.

“Nothing. You did nothing wrong, luv,” he whispered. “We should go home now and I’ll draw you a bath. Then we’re going to leave the Ivory Palace together for a while.”

Chapter Six

Mouse

If Shakespeare were still alive to write Mouse’s story, she wondered if it would end up a tragedy or one of his rare, semi-happily ever afters. As the wind rumpled her hair, her face planted against Ferris’s strong chest while he ran her home from the paint pub, she took in the darkness behind her closed eyelids. Black. Black. Black. Just as she’d painted across her canvas at the paint pub Ferris had taken her to. Her life, she decided, was leading toward a tragedy, one that Shakespeare’s ghost may rise from the dead to write at that very moment.Woe is me.

Mouse finally forced herself to open her eyes, pulling herself away from the black oblivion. She peered up at Ferris, his determined gaze focused straight ahead, his hard muscles flexing against her flesh as he moved. The floral scent of Ivory washed over her and a murder of crows cawed high in the night sky. Over the course of her life, she’d been saved on numerous accounts. First by Maddie who’d turned her into a vampire, then by Noah who’d rescued her from her prison, and now by Ferris who’d helped too many times to count. Even in the mortal world, centuries ago, Maddie had always been there to get Mouse out of trouble, except for the one time she wasn’t… The thing was, Mouse didn’t mind being saved. What did it matter if one wasn’t a savior? Did that make them any less worthy in life? In a story? In Hamlet, even though Ophelia was a tragic heroine, that didn’t make hernothing. Everyone was something.

But Mouse didn’t want Ferris to think shealwaysrequired rescuing—he had his own inner demons he needed to face.

“I can walk,” Mouse whispered, staring at the hard lines of Ferris’s handsome face. She’d always thought him pretty with sharp angles and chiseled features.

As though attuned to her low words, Ferris halted, not arguing as he lowered her to the pale grass. “I didn’t mean to go all caveman on you there, but I just wanted to get you home,” he said, his chest heaving.

“If I didn’t want you taking me home, you would’ve certainly heard it from my lips.” The palace rested ahead, its gothic physique appearing ethereal beneath the moon’s glow. “Let’s go through the back. Ever’s gone, but I had a slight argument with Maddie earlier and I don’t want to see her just yet.”

“Mmm, so avoid the Hatter. Done.” He smirked, grasping her hand and leading her to the back of the palace. They passed tall white daisies that danced with the breeze. A few guards stood in the windows, peering out at them, and gave a brief nod.

Mouse took out her key and unlocked the backdoor. They slipped inside, finding Didi guarding near the stairs. “Good evening,” the female said, bowing her head.

“Hey, Didi, hope you’re staying out of trouble.” Ferris grinned as they passed and Mouse studied the floor. She should finally say hello, too, be friendly, invite her to one of Maddie’s tea parties like she would’ve in the past, but she just couldn’t. There weren’t tea parties for Mouse any longer.

“Oh, you know me, just making sure no bastards take over Ivory again,” Didi said.

Noah’s deep voice echoed down the hall and Mouse hurried up the ivory staircase before he could relay to Maddie that her sister was back. Not that she would shame him for it, but Noah didn’t keep anything from Maddie, not after their journey to save his sister … and Mouse.

They ventured down the silent hallway, neither saying a word until they stepped into her room. Mouse left the door cracked open behind her and turned to Ferris, the skirt of her dress swishing. “I’m sorry,” she rushed the words out.

His brow furrowed. “What do you have to be sorry for, luv?”

Mouse rolled her gaze to the ceiling. The way she’d acted when she’d first seen him behind the club—it was as though she wasn’t herself for a second, as if she didn’t recognize him. “Snarling at you earlier. Then we were having a pleasant time at the paint pub and I made more mistakes. Perhaps I should have just painted the night sky orsunshineinstead.”

He bent his knees, lowering himself so they were eye to eye. “Snarl at me and I’ll snarl right back,” he teased. “And I think we both hate sunshine, so that would’ve been a horrific choice. As for the canvas, you painted how you felt. You could’ve hidden it and not shown me. Instead, you let me in. That’s fucking brave.”

Mouse didn’t feel brave. As she stared into his eyes, a curious emotion washed over her. She wanted to know what was hidden behind those dark irises of his—his past—as she’d always reveled in the here and now with him. Yet right then, standing in this room, she wanted to know what had ailed him and how he’d faced those demons. How they could exorcise the gruesome things they’d both dealt with at the Ruby Heart Palace. Perhaps together?

“I’m going to draw a bath for you,” Ferris said, “then we can talk.”

“I can start my own bath, you know.” Her lips tilted up at the edges.

“Not the wayIcan.” He smiled and leaned in close. “There will be lots of bubbles.”

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