Page 39 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
“Why don’t I put on some tea?” Helena bustles to the fireplace, where she strikes a match. A blaze roars to life in record time. She blinks at the catching flames as if puzzled.
I neglect to point out that it’s because of me. That firemaking proves nearly foolproof when I’m standing this close.
She hangs a kettle over the flames, and I glance around, wondering what I’m actually doing here. I must be lonelier than I realized. Starved for human contact.
With the kettle set, Helena motions me toward the table. We take seats across from one another, and she leans in, studying me.
Like Weston, she ignores my Mark. Her eyes never stray below my chin.
“So,” she says. “Has he come to his senses yet?”
I startle. “Who? Weston?”
She gives me a look. Acome-on, let’s-not-play-games-nowglance. “Yes, Weston. Has he decided to take you up on your offer?”
I open my mouth. Close it again. I guess we’re skipping the small talk. “He...told you about that?”
“Oh, child.” Her look turns knowing. “He didn’t have to. The walls don’t exactly keep secrets around here.”
I flush, deep and burning. Goddess, this woman heard me confessing the innermost contents of my heart. She heard mebeg. How humiliating.
A wry twist lifts Helena’s mouth as she scans the evidence of my embarrassment. “If it’s any consolation, I’d already figured you two out. Every time he came to check on me, he’dstare at that wall so long and so hard I swore he was trying to see through to the other side.”
My cheeks burn hotter. “He did?”
“He did.”
“Oh. Well. It’s...complicated. Between us.”
Her attention falls to my collarbones, but only briefly. “Yes. I can see that.”
We study one another in silence. This close, the evidence of her convalescence shows—bruised shadows cling beneath her eyes and her green muslin dress hangs from a frame that was undoubtedly stouter a couple months ago. But she’ll be fine, eventually. I can tell that much at a glance.
“You probably already realize this,” she says, “but that boy doesn’t surrender anything that isn’t dragged out of him by force.”
I look down, to where my hands twist in my lap. I do know that.
“So you might have to do some dragging,” she adds.
I sigh. She makes it sound so straightforward, but I have no idea how to get Weston to stop fighting me. To quit pushing me away for what he thinks is my own good.
“He’s convinced his curse makes him unworthy of happiness,” Helena says.
I meet her gaze again. “It doesn’t, though. He doesn’t deserve to be punished. It’s not his fault Fortuna Marked him.”
“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir on that one, trust me.” Her smile is thin. “But try telling him that. He’d rather suffer than risk tainting anyone with his misfortune. And he’s spent so long believing the world has no place for him that he can’tsee anything else. Even when it’s staring him in the face, bold as brass.”
The phrase tickles at my mind.Bold as brass. It’s what I would have to be, probably, to break through Weston’s walls. The only problem being that I’m not bold at all. Not brazen in the slightest. Fortuna hasn’t exactly given me the opportunity to cultivate that side of myself.
Helena reaches across the table and pats my hand. “Just don’t give up on him, is what I’m saying. He’s already spent too much time giving up on himself.”
The sentiment makes my chest hurt. Iwon’tgive up. Not because I’m some bastion of fortitude, but because I can’t. Loving Weston is woven into my marrow, as vital and inescapable as breathing. The one time I tried to deny it, I got precisely nowhere.
“Not,” Helena adds, her tone swerving into dark, brambly territory, “that it’s his fault, really. You have to understand how hard life’s been for him. My sister wasn’t the best parent. She was... Is...” She sets her jaw as if doubting her next words.
“I know,” I say, hoping to relieve her of the need to continue. “Weston told me.”
Her head tilts. “Did he?”
