It wasn’t unusual because I wished to see him and ascertain if he was indeed well in mind and spirit.
It was unusual because I wished to talk with him about his reaction to our lifelong misery coming to an abrupt, unanticipated end.
Discussing my feelings was not something I was adept at doing. That was to say, since I put a stop to Kristian and I whispering together as children because we were repeatedly punished for it, I’d never done it, not even with Antoine.
Therefore looking forward to such discourse was farcical.
But it could not be denied I did.
“My lady, is there aught else?” Josette called, and I started, losing track of our conversation and even forgetting she was there.
“I’m so sorry, Josette. My mind wandered. No, thank you. Nothing else.”
She did not move.
All she did was blink.
I found that odd until I realized what had come out of my mouth.
Dear goddess, I’d apologized.
And…
I peered closer at my maid, squinting my eyes across the distance…
It appeared she was on the verge of tears!
Bloody hell.
I wasn’t an ogre but she’d been with me for five years.
Five years with someone who was distant, respectful, but not kind.
Not to mention, the very idea of living a life at the beck and call of anyone was revolting.
Further, as my parents had taught me—that servants were beneath my notice—living a life not once considering that dreadful fact was even more revolting.
Which meant I was revolting!
You’re learning, mon ange, Antoine said in my head.
Bloody bleeding hell.
Bugger off, I snapped.
“I…you’re…I…” Josette cut into my demented thoughts and this time she visibly gulped, “I’ll check in on you later, milady.”
I decided to keep my mouth shut and simply lift my chin.
She finally vanished behind the door.
I watched this and did not beat back my sigh of relief.
I then found the ribbon in my book and opened it to the next chapter I should be reading.
However, I knew this was a wasted effort, for regardless of the copious time I’d had to rest and mend, that time had been broken repeatedly, mostly by Josette, but also with irritating frequency by Noc and even by a solicitous Frey and an openly pleasant and sociable Finnie.
And just that morning, the first I’d been out of my bed, she’d brought Circe and Cora (Madeleine was now celebrating wedded bliss with Apollo, on their way to one of his houses by some lake somewhere, this I knew due to the chitter-chatter of the two princesses and queen who’d attended me, all of whom gabbed like scullery maids).
I had found that ignoring Noc or giving him monosyllabic answers did not deter him in his friendliness. In fact, he found it amusing and did not hesitate not only to demonstrate this by smiling, chuckling or out and out laughing, but also sharing this with me verbally. As if not only could I read he found this so by his smiling, chuckling and laughing, but also he wished to assure me of the veracity of these acts like this was the most sought after attribute.
I also found that one did not have to be sociable and forthcoming around sociable and forthcoming people. One could be virtually silent and even sullen and they just carried on being social and forthcoming.
It was grating on my nerves.
I’d even pulled the real Franka out, saying something cutting to Finnie right in front of Aurora (although Frey had left my room—I was frustrated, not foolish), and if it could be credited, Finnie had just smiled at me and declared, “Franka, I swear, you’re a stitch.”
Yes.
That was precisely what she said.
I’d never forget it.
And now, as I should be averting my mind to a book, I was not. Instead, I was on tenterhooks awaiting who might come through the door.
I would not admit that I wished it to be Noc even as I did know that, with the frequency of his visits, he was the most likely candidate.
Indeed, I would not admit I wished it to be anyone, because, damnably, sociability and outgoingness was nauseatingly pleasing to be around.
I turned my attention from my book to the window and asked it, “If I looked in the mirror, would I even recognize me?”
This is who you’ve always been, love, Antoine answered.
I’m quite pleased you’re dead, I lied irritably.
I know this is not true. Though, this being what you think, you’d be free to explore the feelings you have growing toward Noc.
At these words in my head, my back shot straight so fast a swell of pain rose that was so fierce I had to bite my lip in an effort not to moan.
During this effort, I heard a sharp rap on the door, and heralding Noc’s arrival (as this was always the case), before I bid entry (or denied it, this effort always unheeded), the door opened and he sauntered through.
“Hey, babe,” he greeted.
I did not greet back.
I glowered.
This was because he was wearing those trousers again. It seemed he had a number of pairs, all the same fabric but all different shades of blue, all of them an impossibility to decide which pair suited him the best.
He was also wearing a shirt that looked of the same material, except more lightweight and almost completely faded, only a nuance of blue was left. And this shirt managed to do remarkable things not only to his chest, but also his narrow waist, his broad shoulders and his extraordinary eyes.
Yes, if I hadn’t already come to that conclusion, the last three days it had been made clear the gods had utterly forsaken me.
I looked to the window attempting to call up the vision of Antoine. His lanky frame. His refined features. The thickness of his dark-blond hair. The vividness of his green eyes.