Page 36 of A Curse of Hope and Shadows: Part I
“You know, originally, the transformation only took place during the full moon. He was perfectly normal during the rest of the time. Happy. Healthy.”
Adeline put down her food. “What happened?”
“His father tried to break it. Brought in every healer and scholar that he could, searching for a cure. They tried something. It did not work.”
Adeline’s stomach plummeted. “He became stuck between the two?”
The housekeeper nodded. “Stuck between the two, afflicted with terrible headaches and much else besides… much he wouldn’t tell us. He could see how much it upset his mother, see. So he pretended he was fine as much as he could. His father, of course, blamed the scholar who suggested it. Nearly had him killed.”
Adeline wondered who she would blame, if something like that happened to one of her siblings. She would be furious, but the person she’d blame the most was herself, for not being able to protect them in the first place.
“Is that why he left? The Duke? Was he ashamed of what he’d done?”
“That would be a nicer reason, wouldn’t it?” She shook her head. “I’m getting maudlin. All I wanted to know was that he was all right, and to remind you that the full moon is approaching. It won’t be a good time.”
“Worse than today?”
Mrs Minton said nothing, climbing to her feet instead. She headed towards the corridor, towards her room. “Don’t leave him,” she said. “He needs you. More than he’ll let on.”
“He’s still got you.”
A soft snort. “It’s different,” she said. “And I think you know it. I’ve known him before, see. But I’m not sure anyone has looked at him like you since before he was saddled with this awful curse, and I don’t think any of us can fully understand what that’s like. There are many things in this world that cannot be bought.”
Adeline knew this, and Dimitri’s words, his fear that he’d never be sure she liked him for himself and not part of a job, echoed inside her. There was a lot she didn’t have in life, but at least she’d never doubted anyone else’s affection for her.
After she’d retired to her room, Adeline counted out her coins, a weekly action that usually brought her a sense of comfort and stability. That night, the coppers and silvers felt cold in her hands, the weight of them different than before.
Chapter Ten: The Family Elsing
Despite the events of the day before, Dimitri woke up curiously light. The pounding in his head had subsided, back to the dull ache he was used to, but everything else held the weight of a sparrow.
And even yesterday hadn’t been as awful as other times, he thought, remembering cold hands and soft fingers in his hair.
The door clicked open, and Adeline walked in with the breakfast. His chest tightened at the brightness of her smile. It was probably just the lingering after effects of the potions she plied him with yesterday. Only plausible explanation.
She set down the tray on his bedside and pressed a hand to his head. The tightness in his chest worsened, and he wondered if he was as recovered as he thought. Chest pains were unusual, though.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Much better, thanks to you.”
“Don’t need me to spoon feed you, then?”
“No,” he said, taking the bowl from the tray. She beamed at him, and butterflied around the room, tidying up from yesterday. He realised that although she’d been in the room all day, she’d barely left his side.
And—oh gods—he’d slept in her arms.
He felt flush at the thought. At the time, he’d been too sick to care about the impropriety of it all, desperate for any small comfort he could take. She’d indulged him—of course she had, she was a nice person and good at her job—but that offered him little solace now. What must she be thinking?
But she said nothing about it at all, smiling as she righted everything.
It was a small thing to her, he was sure, but he wasn’t used to being smiled at. There was a time when everyone had, from the maids to the schoolmasters, smiled and laughed and teased and indulged his every whim. He supposed he could still get away with the latter, but his list of desires had dwindled over the years to a few, impossible things.
A day without pain.
Some spark of joy.
A friend.
