Page 72 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“Your gunk routine?” I smiled at the way his lips immediately fell.
“My face care routine,” he corrected. “And you wouldn’t speak so lowly of it if you gave it a try. It is about more than beauty. It is about comfort. Your days will be ten times brighter, as will all of ours as we wouldn’t have to tolerate your foul mood. But, as I was saying, you should let people do things for you every now and again.”
Mr. Hawthorne shoved the rest of the toast into his mouth.
“I don’t like it,” I muttered.
“You must have been the life of the party in your village.” A silence enveloped us, interrupted by him clearing his throat. “I meant no offense.”
“No, you’re right. Professor Kumir said Carline went after me because I’m isolated. I didn’t want to believe her, but she’s right,” I whispered while pushing my food around the plate.
He didn’t appear surprised to hear that.
“Did she discuss it with you?” I asked.
“She shared theories and said she would speak further with you on the matter,” he admitted over the rim of his cup.
I took a bite that I didn’t have the motivation to chew. “You must agree with her, then. Only a fool wouldn’t.”
His silence spoke volumes.
“You know, for a few years now, I dubbed myself the less-than-a-year girlfriend. No one has tolerated me for more than a year. I’m boring, frugal, no fun.”
“Dating isn’t for the lighthearted,” he said, with his arms raised. “As you can see, no one is knocking down my doors.”
“Your doors are thousands of feet in the air.”
He chuckled. “True, but I have been unsuccessful, always too focused on my work, and they always get jealous that I’m prettier than them.”
I laughed, and it felt good, like everything I needed.
Mr. Hawthorne rubbed his wrist. I recalled our initial meeting. Back then, I grabbed his wrist, and he cradled it to his chest. An old injury, I thought.
“What happened there?” I asked.
“Sprained my wrist when saving a princess from a dragon. She offered me her heart afterward, but I simply don’t have the space on my mantelpiece.”
“You can say you don’t want to tell me. There is no need to tell a lie.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t; otherwise, I would be offended.” He settled a hand on the brace, mostly hidden under his shirt. “It’s a long story.”
“I have hardly touched my breakfast.”
And based on how Slate joined us to peck at my plate, he wanted breakfast. Sighing, Mr. Hawthorne got up to retrieve another slice of bread to appease the bird. Upon sitting down, he caught my eye, and it was strange to think I couldn’t read him at all. He could be dramatic. He could be sarcastic and playful. He could be serious, but this was different. A wall stood between the truth and the rest of the world, one he had yet to decide if he would let anyone pass. He finished his drink in a long gulp and sat the glass down harder than he may have meant to.
“In my youth, my family worked at the royal palace. I was meant to join them until we realized I had magic. The little we saved was spent on any schooling they could get for me. On my off days, I studied in the stables, where my brothers kept an eye on me, as did the prince.” Mr. Hawthorne hesitated, his expression darkening. “Saule, he witnessed me practicing once or twice, then one day, he wanted to see what I was capable of. I was young and naïve, believing the prince would be impressed.”
He shook his head as if he wanted to lecture his younger self. “Saule didn’t take my demonstration well and showed one of his own. He dangled me upside down while he and his group of friends laughed and taunted me, saying I wouldn’t amount to anything, that it didn’t matter if I had magic. I was still worthless.”
“That is cruel,” I spat, thinking of that man we met in the council room. The sovereign’s brother standing behind her. My respect for Mr. Hawthorne grew because no one could have guessed from their interaction that they had bad blood, although I never would have faulted him for being rude to the jerk.
“He was the prince, and he could do what he wanted,” he grumbled bitterly, and Slate cawed as if to agree. “You can understand why I panicked. Saule dropped me, and I broke my wrist. We couldn’t afford a proper healer to set it right, so it healed poorly. I struggle with the pain from time to time.”
“I am sorry you went through that.”
“And I am sorry your good-for-nothing partners never saw the good in you. They’re missing out.” He wore that crooked smile that had once been so sparse. Each time, I liked it a little more.
“Don’t try to sweet talk me. It is inappropriate for colleagues,” I said, if only to help myself ignore the heat igniting in my chest.
