Page 7 of Myths and Manuscripts
He carefully rearranged the ferns and their roots to fit as many as possible in the basket. “I was just wondering if the story gods were really that harsh or if maybe you took it wrong? Nyssa said they provide guidance to writers, not crush their spirits.”
“My spirits are not crushed.” I scoffed. “And there was really no other way to take it. My book sucks. End of story.”
“I somehow doubt that. What did your Gran say about it?”
I scuffed my boot in the dirt, avoiding his gaze. “Well, she hasn’t read it yet.”
“Okay, what about your friends?”
I bit my lip, refusing to admit I didn’t have any of those. Acquaintances sure, but nobody close enough that I’d let them read my book.
The Demon Lord reached out, lifting my chin so I had no choice but to look him in the eyes. “You didn’t let a single soul read your story before deciding it was terrible, did you?”
“No, that’s what the story gods were for.” I jerked out of his grip, heat burning my cheeks. “What’s it matter to you anyway? You’re supposed to be evil incarnate, but it sounds like you’re trying to encourage me.”
“So what if I am?” He crossed his arms, staring at me. “I think you’re just afraid to let anyone read it.”
I tried to laugh it off, but it sounded hollow even to me. I winced. “You don’t get it. If Gran read it, she’d feel obligatedto tell me it was amazing. She’s sweet like that and my stories remind her of Grandpa, so there’s no way she’d tell me it was bad. And the same thing would happen with friends too. If they said something nice, I’d probably think they were sugar-coating it to spare my feelings.”
Or maybe I was just too afraid of what their response would be. A harsh answer from the story gods was one thing, but from Gran? I wasn’t sure I could deal with that. Not that it mattered. I was an apothecary. I knelt in the dirt again, digging up each plant with the care they deserved. This was where I felt most at home, with my hands in the dirt and the smell of fresh herbs in the air.
The Demon Lord leaned down next to me, his voice soft. “I’m not your friend or your family. Let me read it.”
I froze, fingers entrenched in the dirt. He wanted to...read my book? That was ridiculous, why would he care about my story?
Except somebody who didn’t care about me or my story might actually be the perfect person to read it. He was right: he wasn’t my friendormy family. He barely knew me, so he shouldn’t feel bad giving me his honest thoughts. It would be nice to be able to talk to somebody about it and see where I might need to edit. Not that I was planning on wasting any more time on that story, but it was good to have options.
I wiped my hands on my overalls, getting them as clean as possible before opening my bag. I’d brought my manuscript with me in case Gran’s curiosity got the better of her and she tried to read it while I was away, which was silly, so maybe I just hadn’t felt comfortable leaving it behind after so many days of having it in my bag.
“Here.” I held the pages out to him with trepidation. “It’s the only copy I have, so be careful.”
His shadows curled around it as if they were extra hands,pulling it to him. He didn’t even look at it before tucking it away and adding the last of the herbs to the basket.
“Really? That’s it?” I asked.
“Well, I can’t say anything until I read it.” Exasperation filled his voice. “Unless you expect me to do that now with you watching me.”
“Uh, yeah, I pretty much do.”
He stared at me, as if trying to figure out if I was serious or not. Honestly, I wasn’t sure either, but the moment I’d handed my story over to him it was like my entire body had filled with anxiety. I wanted to know what he thought as soon as possible, but I was also afraid of knowing it.
What a pickle I’d gotten myself into.
“On second thought, I don’t need you to read it. It’s fine.” I held my hand out for the book, but he took a step back instead. “What are you doing? Give it back.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Not until I read it. You can’t tempt me with a good story and then take it away.”
He was insufferable. I should get out of here before I did anything embarrassing like sit him down and force him to read. “Fine. Just let me know what you think and don’t let anyone else read it.”
He handed me the basket of herbs, leaning close enough for his long hair to brush against me. “I swear, I’m the only one who will touch it.”
My breath caught in my chest. He was even more handsome up close with those long lashes and gorgeous purple eyes. Like amethysts sparkling in the sunlight. My pulse pounded in my ears as I grabbed the basket from him, careful not to accidentally brush against his hands. That was the last thing I needed. Words escaped me, so I just nodded and fled down the mountain.
This was going to be a long few days waiting for him to read my book. I’d have to stay busy with work and hope Gran didn’ttease me too much for giving him my story when I’d refused to let anyone else read it.
No, she was definitely going to tease me about that.
Ugh. He better read like the wind.
