Girl of the Night Garden

Playing chess with the beautiful pieces Declan had carved and walking the Amaria coastline with him were fun, too, but I was so fog-headed on the island it was hard to feel anything fully. Every emotion was muted by the magic of the wards.

But now…

Now I’ll get to spend a day in the sun with Declan, watching his eyes glitter with curiosity as we explore, listening to him tease Timon and laugh with Adrina. And maybe, late in the afternoon, while our friends rest after our picnic, we’ll be able to sneak away and be alone. And maybe…have another kiss.

The thought makes the fizzy feeling inside me bubble over.

I will kiss him again. I’ll find a way.

I don’t know what the future holds or how much time I have left, but I refuse to leave the world without at least one more kiss. Maybe two or three. Kisses are the best thing. Maybe even the very best thing.

As if drawn by my thoughts of him, Declan breezes through the back door, a basket in hand. “I only found fifteen. Is that normal for your hens or should I…” He looks up, his words trailing away as his eyes meet mine.

Instantly, everything in me lifts and brightens like a flower reaching petals out to greet the sun, but Declan doesn’t return my smile. He simply watches me with unreadable eyes, studying me like I’m…

Like…a stranger.

I start to ask him what’s wrong, but before I can speak, he says, “Good morning, Clara. How was your night?”

“G-good. It was good,” I stammer, confused by the change in him and by the edge in his tone. “I slept well. You?”

“Very well.” He sets the basket of eggs on table by the cooling tarts. “And I woke feeling much more…clear.”

I blink, unsure what to make of that, either.

But I suppose clear is a good thing?

I force a smile. “Well, that’s good. We’ve been invited on a spear tip hunt and picnic with Adrina and Timon.”

“Oh.” His brows lift, and he nods, but without the enthusiasm I felt at the thought of an afternoon’s adventure. “Sounds like fun. As long as you don’t need us here, Mrs. Barolo,” he adds, his gaze shifting her way.

“No, not at all. You should all go. Relax and enjoy yourselves.” She glances back to where Timon is now crawling through the open window, apparently too impatient for the tarts she’s setting on the table to circle around to the door. “But no sliding down the aqueduct. It’s too close to the path’s edge. You could fall to your death. Do you hear me, Timon?”

“Yes, yes,” he says, settling into his chair and reaching for a tart. “Slide slowly down the aqueduct so as not to fall to my death.” He ducks his mother’s swipe at his head with a grin. “I’m joking, Mommy. Don’t worry. I’ll be safe. Especially if I have an extra tart for the picnic.”

With an exasperated—but affectionate—sigh, his mother says, “All right. One extra apiece for the picnic, but the rest to the inn. Elsie has a group staying with her from the mainland, and they all like something sweet with their afternoon tea.”

“And they pay double the usual price for pastries. We will hate to see them leave,” Adrina adds with a wiggle of her brows as she settles at the table by her brother and motions for me to join them.

I claim the chair across from hers and shift my attention Declan’s way. But instead of sitting beside me, the way he did at dinner last night, he takes a tart from the large plate and crosses to the window, staring out at the barn and the hills beyond, his back turned to the table.

Unease prickles across my skin, lifting the hairs on my arms.

He seems almost angry. I’ve never seen Declan angry, so I can’t be sure, but something is clearly wrong. The need to ask him what tickles and pricks at my lips, but this isn’t the time. Later, when we’re alone and can both speak freely.

“Marmalade or goat cheese and honey?” Adrina points to one side of the tart plate and then the other. “I like both the same, but Timon is devoted to marmalade for life.”

“Marmalade. It puts my mouth in heaven,” he says with a sigh and a dramatic flutter of his long lashes. “You would probably not like it, though, Clara.”

Grinning I reach for a tart with an orange center, like his. “Oh, I think I will. My mouth wants to go to heaven, too.”

The words make me think of kissing again, but when I glance Declan’s way, my cheeks hotter than they were before, his back is still turned. He’s stiff, with no signs of softening.

Mrs. Barolo settles beside me with a sigh. “That reminds me, Adrina. You should take the purse with you to the village and pay Mrs. Marino some of what we owe for the goats. Tell her we should have the rest by the end of next month.”