Page 98 of A Curse of Hope and Shadows: Part I
“Yes?”
“I’d never sell anything you gave to me.”
Dimitri’s cheek went bright pink. He scratched the back of his neck, and Adeline wondered if that was a comment too far, even when it barely conveyed the depths of her gratitude. She stepped forward, holding out the chain and fastening it around her neck.
“How does it look?” she asked him.
“Perfect,” he said, barely glancing at it.
Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed, reminding them of how late it was getting.
“I should go,” she whispered.
“If you like.”
She turned to leave, hand skimming his as she brushed past. She carried the flicker of that touch with her to the door, like a kind of brand.
“Dimitri?”
“Yes?” his voice was fringed with hope.
“Thank you.”
“For the necklace?”
“Yes, but… also for just being you. Mostly for that, actually.”
Dimitri could not have looked more shocked if she’d kissed him. He stared at her, mouth agape, words apparently completely lost to him.
Why am I thinking of kissing him?
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, after a long pause, and softly closed the door behind her.
Back in her room, she dressed for bed, shedding everything but the key, which rested hotly against her chest. She climbed into the crisp sheets, and unfolded his note.
“Dear Adeline, you’re allowed to like beautiful things. You are one.”
Chapter Twenty-three: The Young Lord’s Tale
Dimitri’s words clung to her the next day as she dove back into her chores.
Beautiful.
Not pretty or nice or kind or pleasant, or any of the other words she’d come to expect, butbeautiful.
The word held a mountainous feel, too monumental, too overwhelming.
He should not be using those words to describe me. I should not feel awed by them.
She definitely shouldn’t be admiring the key in its little velvet box like it was a gift from a lover, an item to be treasured, threaded to her heart.
And yet her fingers could not stop tracing the contours of it, examining the lines and etchings, the blue-green jewels he insisted were fake.
It was the sort of thing from a story, a fairy tale, something from the tomes she’d read to him.
He’d thought a lot about it, she was sure.
A school boy crush. Fleeting. It will stop. It will fizzle away.
