Page 27 of A Curse of Hope and Shadows: Part I
“What of it?”
“Have you played down here before?”
“A long time ago,” he admitted, with the finality of an old man.
“I’m wondering if we ever played in it at the same time, before, and if any of my little siblings are splashing in it too, miles downstream.”
It was a long, lazy, delightful day, and they made a long, lazy journey back, stopping to admire everything and nothing. Adeline swooned and sighed over all the flowers, admitting that she’d love to take some back to her room.
“Take them, then. They aren’t doing anyone any good here.”
“You’re sure?”
“It’s nothing.”
She plucked the ribbon from his hat and wound herself a bouquet.
Shortly afterwards, they returned to the more manicured parts of the garden, and came across an ornate swing hanging from one of the boughs of a great tree.
“Want me to swing you?” she offered, half-seriously.
Dimitri scowled. “I’m not a child.”
“What does that have to do with swinging?” she said, and promptly sat herself down on the seat.
“Do you… doyouwant to be swung?”
“Why not?”
She expected him to refuse, but he didn’t, and after she was quite dizzy, he slumped into the seat beside her, and stared at her smile like it was a painting on the wall.
It had been a long time since anyone had stared at her like that.
The heel of her boot scuffed against a dandelion, and she plucked it from the grass.
“Make a wish,” she said.
For once, he didn’t question it. They blew at the same time, their seeds drifting into the air like fairies. She watched them disappear, dots on the breeze.
“What did you wish for?” she asked him.
“What do you think?”
She looked down.
“You?”
“All the things I want are impossible,” she said. “So I just wished for more days like this one.”
Chapter Eight: The Weight of Pain
They returned to the estate mid afternoon, stopping by the back door to deposit the basket, and were met by a delighted Mrs Minton who fussed over how red they both were and pushed a tub of aloe vera on the two of them. Adeline took it upstairs and ran Dimitri a cold bath, stripping him despite his muffled protestations and smothering his skin.
“How long has it been, since you went outside?” she asked him.
“A long time,” he returned, not offering a more definite timeline. “You should go take a rest, freshen up.”
“Sick of my presence?”
