Girl of the Night Garden

“I’m here,” I force out, lifting my hand above the edge of the well.

Poke glares at me, one of his raven’s eyes going Skritchishly large with frustration, and takes to the air, cawing, “Midnight in the grove, by the tallest tree. Meet us there, and we’ll talk without strays about.”

I exhale slowly and swipe my cheeks again. Declan circles around the well, his attention divided between my face and Poke spiraling up toward the sunset-streaked clouds. “Are you all right?” he asks.

I nod. “Just…surprised. I’ve never seen…” I motion in the general direction of Adrina’s father’s shed, the cramped room where he’s lived and worked since becoming too fractured to function in the presence of women, even those he loves and who love him in return.

That was the most heartbreaking part, watching a father cower away from his own daughter, trembling in the corner even as she spoke gently to him about what she’d brought him for dinner.

Declan’s brow furrow deepens. “Really? Never?”

I shake my head. “No, I…” I trail off, realizing how strange that must sound, considering how many men and boys I’ve touched with my magic. “My mother raised me alone. In the woods. Far from other people. She was…”

“Protective?” Declan supplies.

I bite my bottom lip, knowing I should lie, but unable to keep the truth from slipping out. “Manipulative.”

His forehead smooths as he nods. “I confess I have questions—about her, how she came to have a half human daughter, what she’s like. We’re taught all witches are evil, like…parasites who feed on human hopes and dreams and work magic to steal a living the rest of us have to earn. But…” He shrugs. “Well, the things we hear about people we’ve never known aren’t always true.”

I study his earnest face, and for the first time since I left Adrina’s father, I feel a bit steadier inside.

He’s so good. So kind and open to giving others the benefit of the doubt.

And he’s good in spite of me, I realize suddenly. Since the day he pulled me from the sea, I’ve assumed I must have touched him and his da with my magic before they arrived on their island. From what I knew of mortal men, it was the only way their kindness and compassion made sense.

But I knew nothing, and I’m so confused.

I’m also afraid to say too much to Declan. Afraid I’ll say something to make him hate me when I need a friend more than ever.

So, I lie, even though I hate the way it salts my mouth. “I don’t know who my father is. Only that he was human.” Declan seems to have assumed that, so I might as well confirm it. It might make me less monstrous. “Mother never told me anything else about him, but she was…a good mother. When I was young, I was happy. It was only as I grew and realized she was keeping secrets from me that things became complicated. Now…” I shrug, my shoulders more burdened than I can remember. “We haven’t spoken in years.”

Declan cocks his head, the way he does when he’s trying to say the very best thing, and in spite of the guilt and shame, I feel my lips lilt up at the edges.

“What?” he asks, his lips lilting, too.

“Your head.” I tilt mine, mirroring his thoughtful pose. “When you’re trying not to hurt someone’s feelings but still tell the truth, you hold it just so.”

He blinks, seemingly surprised, but after a beat, he laughs. “Oh…yeah. I guess I do.”

He drags a hand through his black hair. It looks good on him, makes his stormy eyes stand out even more behind their sooty lashes, but it doesn’t look as good as the blue. That mysterious blue…I don’t know that we’ll ever get to the source of it. I wouldn’t even know where to begin searching for answers to a question like that.

“I was thinking. Wondering,” he amends, “how you’ve survived as a girl on your own, with no mother or father. Were you a servant or a paid companion? Is that how you ended up on a ship near our island?”

My lips part, but before I can think of something at least a shade of truthful to tell him, Adrina calls from somewhere between the well and the cottage. “Dinner is on the table. We’d love to have you join us if you’re feeling better, but no rush. We can warm things up for you later.”

“Don’t do it,” Timon calls over her. “Fish is disgusting when it’s cold. Or warmed up a second time. Don’t do this to yourselves. Eat now or forever hold your stomachs!”

Declan’s breath rushes out with a soft laugh. “He’s funny.”

“And smart,” I add, nodding toward the cottage. “Go ahead. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I just want to splash some water on my face.”