Page 8 of Maiming
I shake hers and then Natalie’s hand.
“Arlow,” I say hesitantly.
“I know,” Brylee says in a confident tone.
She feels … off. I can’t explain it. Is too nice a thing? Can someone be too nice?
Brylee is too nice.
“I hear you’re a mage.” Natalie’s voice is little smaller than Brylee’s. More genuine and a little awestruck.
“I am.” It’s odd for me to admit that after hiding it all my life. Kain told me from day one not to hide it. That we don’t hide from one another here.
And so, I’m not. I’m trying not to.
“Come, let me give you some passion fuchsia since Natalie and I made too much for the Autumn Fire Festival. My father said we don’t need a thousand when there’s not that many attending. But there’s no such thing as too much fuchsia, right?” The outraged happiness in her features is alarming, and I’m not sure how to respond immediately.
“Definitely,” I mumble.
I trail after the two of them, sending a look over my shoulder to Aggie and her new male friend as I consider breaking out in sacrificial dance as well just to avoid some damn fuchsia scented candles.
Brylee leads me to the house that Agatha pointed out as the annoying blonde girl’s. The size of it surprises me as the balconies reach up several stories with shades of deep pink tinting the shutters around each and every window. My eyes narrow on the pink door with the heart shaped knocker.
It’s like love threw up all over this house.
She steps inside, barely opening the door as she grabs something off a table just inside.
A fist full of swirling pink and white candles are held out to me.
“Thank you.” I fumble with them as I take them with both hands. I hold them awkwardly to my chest. There are at least a dozen candle sticks filling my nose with a floral scent. I’m in fuchsia hell right now. “This is nice. Thanks.”
And then we stand there uncomfortably on the enormous wooden porch. A weird look of sudden sadness falls over her perfect features.
Her attention shifts over every part of my face, and I try once more to shove a smile there.
Fuck, why am I so bad at being polite? I should crawl back into hiding right now and put myself out of my terrible socializing misery.
“He loves you.”
At the sound of her statement, my brows lower. It’s odd how many men drift through my mind when she says that.
“Who?”
I try to pry into her line of sight as her gaze slips to something behind me. That appearance of vulnerable sorrow vanishes in an instant. Pure, glaring hate snaps across her features.
“Rime.” Her lips purse when she says his name.
I’ve never heard someone say his name colder than he himself could have.
“Brylee.” Cruel sarcasm bites Rime’s tone as a gleam of satisfaction shines in his pale eyes.
“I’ll see you at the festival, Arlow. It was nice meeting you.” With a dramatic toss of her long blonde hair, the woman strides inside and slams the door behind her. The younger girl, Natalie, shifts on her feet. A tense smile that mirrors my own fills her features before she quickly races after her friend. A dramatic clicking sound of a lock tells me Brylee is completely done with this conversation.
Wow. And here I thought Aggie was the best performer in the village.
Slowly I walk down the steps toward the ice dragon.
“That woman is a lot to take in.”
