Page 48 of Savage Blooms
Nicola yanked on jeans, snapped on a bra, and wiggled into her sweater, then marched down the hallway to rap on the door to Adam’s room.
“Who is it?” Adam asked from inside, voice slurred with sleep.
“It’s Nikki,” she said, trying to sound bright and not at all panicked. “Let me in.”
“It’s unlocked.”
Nicola let herself into Adam’s room and found him dozing in a tousle of cream sheets and down pillows, his cheeks flushed as though he had just been woken from a dream. He rolled onto his back, scrubbing at his eyes with a hand, and the morning light streaming in through the window glanced off the curve of his bicep and the plane of his bare chest, shadowed with blond hair.
He really does look like he belongs here, Nicola thought as agony pierced her heart.Like a prince resting after battle.
“You need to wake up. We’ve got to talk.”
“I’m awake,” Adam said, making no move to either become vertical or get dressed. “And we’re talking. What’s wrong?”
Nicola paced a tight circle, sinking into the carpet beneath her socks. She didn’t know how to get at what she wanted to say without sounding completely off her rocker, or worse, pissing Adam off.
“I’ve been doing some research,” she said, deciding that starting with a neutral fact was probably best. “Into some local folklore and other comparative stories from the region. Cross-referencing them with what Eileen’s been telling us about her family, and the faeries.”
“That’s great,” Adam said, still a bit bleary. “But it’s so early. It’s not even breakfast. There’s time for all that later.”
He seemed to be under the impression that they had all the time in the world, that the honeyed languor of long days at Craigmar would never end, which sparked her anger. They were only supposed to be here for a week; that was what they had agreed upon together. She understood that perhaps his entire identity had changed overnight, and his priorities along with it, but she was still here with him, and she had every intention of sticking to their plan.
“I’m worried there isn’t, actually. Listen to me, Adam.” Nicola sat down on the edge of his bed, the way she had done so many times before while pregaming with vodka crans before a night out, or while typing out literary analyses as Adam ate hot honey peanuts and designed websites. Only now there was no party to prep for, no final exam to conquer. It was only her and Adam andthis place with its heavy presence bearing down all around them. “I’m worried about you. This doesn’t feel right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to say something that might seem out there, but just go with me, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, not sounding entirely convinced.
“We can agree that there’s something special about this place, can’t we? That it plays by a different set of rules. Old rules, governed by what Eileen calls magic.”
“Right,” Adam said.
“I’m not going to pretend like I understand all those rules, but I know a few of them. The iron jewelry, turning my sweater inside out—”
“And you knew what to do with the milk at the cave, yeah,” Adam said, encouraging her on.
“Right,” Nicola said. Maybe she could get through to him. Maybe there was still time to pull him back from whatever precipice he was teetering on. “Those rules are preserved in folk traditions, and those traditions are preserved in stories. It’s not perfect; lots of things get lost and lots of things get fabricated, but we can still use them as a sort of… road map to navigate weird situations.”
“You’re talking about faery tales?” Adam said, arching a skeptical eyebrow as he took a long swallow from the glass of water by his bed.
“I’m talking about ancestral memory,” Nicola said, firmer. She did her best to tamp down her growing frustration, knowing from experience that blowing up at himwould only bring conversation to a standstill. “Listen, I’m going to get right to it. Lots of stories are about a hero leaving home to go on a quest, but fewer are about someone returning. In those returning stories, home usually isn’t what it seems, and sometimes it’s an illusion. A temptation. Do you get it?”
Adam blinked at her, brows furrowed. Nicola wanted to pull her hair out, but somehow she soldiered on, picking up the pace.
“It’s a trick, Adam. The castle outfitted with a feast to welcome the hero home is always a trick. It’s everywhere, if you just look. Galahad at the castle of maidens, or Gawain at Hautdesert, or Odysseus on the island of—”
“Nikki, you’re going too fast,” Adam said, reaching out for her. Nicola kept her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. She didn’t want him to touch her right now. She wanted him tolisten.“You’re being really academic for first thing in the morning.”
“I’m not being academic, I’m being serious,” she snapped. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“I guess so,” Adam said, tossing his hands in the air as though he was completely hopeless, like he was some bumbling husband in a sitcom and she was his longsuffering wife.
Nicola wanted to strangle him with those expensive, cream-colored sheets.
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that a week ago Eileen had no idea who you were and now she’s rearrangedher entire life so that you can be at the center? And don’t you think it’s weird that your grandfather’s picture has been on her wall her whole life and she’s never noticed?”
