by Jen Crane
That is, until I opened my eyes and saw the bulging eyes, the flared nostrils, the positively enraged face of Rowan Gresham. I pulled away from Ewan in reflex, looked down to make sure I wasn’t exposing any skin, and when I lifted my eyes toward Gresham again, he was gone.
“I’ll get the party started,” Ewan said. “Right?”
He hadn’t seen Gresham.
My nod was distracted.
“You go get Timbra. See you at the cabin,” he said and smacked me soundly on the lips.
* * *
“Pia?”
“Ho, ho! Look who decided to talk to her P.I.A. Let me guess: you need to use my Contacts function,” Pia said snidely. “What wish can I grant you today, Master?”
“Ha-freakin-ha, Pia. Haven’t we already gone over this? I thought we established that I love you. I need you. Life would be but a wade through a low-brow sludge pile if not for your generous and frequent gifts of intellect and humor.”
“Oh, stop,” Pia said. “All right. Your assistant kissing is acceptable. I forgive you.”
Sometimes she was so not worth the effort.
* * *
With Pia’s help I found Timbra’s home contact information and called her. Her voice was dead, flat. Her tone never rose above desolate when she agreed to let me visit.
Since I’d never been to her home, tracing straight there was impossible. And because her father had officially barred her from The Root, she couldn’t come get me. We agreed to meet in Caliph Square and go together.
I was glad to see her and rushed in for a hug. She gave a half-ass effort at reciprocating. Surely she was allowed a little self pity, though it was the first glimpse of it I’d ever gotten. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go back to your house. Show me where they’re keeping you.” It was a joke, but her frown deepened. Probably too close to the truth.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” I sang.
Her little ears perked a bit. Not much.
“Come on. I’ll tell you all about it when we get there. You’re gonna love it.”
She nodded, clasped my hand, and after one frigid gust we stood just outside the gate of Timbra’s family homestead. She’d once told me they were a farm family, but the size of their operation was shocking. A white two-story farmhouse was flanked by half a dozen barns and storage buildings that housed harvested crops, supplies, and gargantuan red farm equipment. The house itself was surrounded by fruit trees, and tall stalks of grass that rippled in the breeze.
Movement at the front of the house caught my eye as Timbra’s father exited the front door and held it for someone. It wasn’t her mother, but another man. My head flew back in disbelief when I recognized him. What? Why would he be here?
Gaspare Shaw extended a distinguished hand to Russ Redfern, who anxiously shook it. Russ didn’t bow before him, but he came close. It was satisfying to see the overbearing bully practically cower to my uncle, I admit it.
The two never noticed Timbra and I, and Gaspare was gone before we could approach him.
“What was he doing here?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. He arrived a while before I left. My father’s very involved in politics, in agriculture policy. Maybe something to do with that.”
“Huh.” It was all I could manage to say as we headed toward the house.
When Russ saw Timbra, his eyes, which had been wide with pleasure, reduced to determined slits.
“What now?” she muttered, but then jerked her head up to make sure he hadn’t heard her.
“Timbra. Good. I want to speak with you.”
His tall frame was devoid of antlers this time, at least, though he was still imposing, and very nearly regal. He never noticed I was there. Certainly, he never acknowledged my presence.
Bet that’d change if you knew the niece of the man whose ass you were just kissing was standing right here, I thought.
“It’s come to my attention that you showed great aptitude for diplomacy during your time at Radix,” Russ was saying.
Timbra’s mouth worked to form a response, but none came. His statement was surprising to me, too, though not unfounded. Her abilities as a leader were countless. She was clever, knowledgeable, tactful, thoughtful, great looking—yeah, I could totally see her excelling in politics…like her father.
Russ didn’t meet her eyes when he said, “I fear I’ve made a mistake in withdrawing you. I’m re-enrolling you. You can start Monday.”
Timbra still hadn’t said a word. She stared at her father. Squinted as she tried to understand. Just as he turned to leave she said, barely above a whisper, “And what about Boone?”
I tried to find somewhere else to direct my attention; I was an intruder.
“The dog?” he scoffed. “I remain unmoved on that point. You’ll not associate with him.” He stepped toward Timbra, leaned over her in an obvious attempt to intimidate her. “Are we clear?”
Timbra’s chest rose, and her spine straightened on an inhale. “Oh, we’re clear,” she said. “At least I am. I’m not returning to The Root.”
Russ jerked at her words.
“Oh, you’re not?” He smirked.
“No,” she said firmly. “No, sir. If you forbid me from being with Boone, I’ll not go back to school. Simple as that.”
Timbra Redfern walked past her father and through the red front door of her family home. Russ’s mouth was agape as he watched her leave. When he noticed me and squinted angrily, I shut my own open mouth and scuttled in behind her.
* * *
We sat in her upstairs bedroom, which was tastefully decorated in white and robin’s egg blue. She didn’t say anything for a long time; her mind was clearly a thousand miles away.
I ducked to find her gaze, which had been focused on the hardwood floor for far too long. “Want some good news?”
“Yes,” she said with feeling.
“We’re having a party tonight. For you. At Ewan’s cabin in the woods. Layla’s playing. It’s gonna be awesome.”
“And Boone? Will he be there?”
I wasn’t sure what answer she was looking for, but gave the truthful one. “Ah. Yes?”
“Good,” she said with a satisfied, and borderline deviant, smile. “Good.”
We talked about The Root, her childhood, her room. I told her how much we missed her already.
“Timbra?” a willowy woman in her late fifties called as she pushed open the door. She was lovely. Fabulously put together, an older version of Timbra. “Oh, hello,” she said when she saw me. “I didn’t realize anyone was here. I’m Grace Redfern.”
“Mother, this is Stella, the one I told you about.” Timbra somehow found a smile as she introduced me.
Grace rushed toward me and enveloped me in squeeze. “Timbra has gone on and on about you. What a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Her enthusiasm embarrassed me, and I made eyes at Timbra, who shrugged and looked at her mom with adoration. My heart swelled to see it. No wonder Timbra turned out so well, despite her asshole of a father.
“I’ll make sure all of your things are clean to take back to Radix on Monday,” Grace said as she went about the room picking up and sniff-testing pieces of clothing.
“Oh, no, Mom,” Timbra shook her head. “I’m not going back.”
“But your father said—”
“Dad said a condition of going back was not associating with Boone. And I won’t do it, Mom. I can’t.” Her voice broke with emotion.
Grace took a seat on the bed and rubbed Timbra’s youthful hands between her own. “I know how you feel about this boy,” she said. “And I understand. It’s not ideal.” She swallowed hard. “No, it’s not ideal at all.” Her breath shuddered as it left her body, but she sat up straighter. “But one can hardly control how they feel. And marrying the ‘right’ man doesn’t always work out perfectly, either.”
She smoothed Timbra’s hair from her head with a manicured hand. “But the fact is your father’s a very shrewd man. He no doubt se
es the benefits to having someone in the PM’s office as greater than fighting this battle over a boy with you right now. He’s backed off of his stance on you and Boone.”
Timbra leaned back to study her mother’s face. “What? I don’t understand.”
“Prime Minister Shaw came here—himself—today to ask that your father put you back in school. Promised you a spot on his staff once you’ve graduated.”
I heard nothing after that. The women, the room, the world went silent and white. Gaspare had done this. For me. I closed my eyes, so grateful for him, for Timbra, for that day.
Chapter 27
“Well, you clean up all right.”
Timbra looked better than all right. She was fabulous in a strapless azure party dress. She’d dressed me in a sparkly gold top, a black pencil skirt, and gold heels. I was feeling pretty fabulous myself.
We stood just outside the wolf-emblazoned doors of Ewan’s “cabin” and could hear Layla’s band warming up out back. I anxiously lifted the bronze knocker. In a matter of seconds, Ewan swung the door wide and caught me up in his arms. He pressed his lips to mine and the scent, the heat of him washed over me like a ripple of love. I grinned so wide my cheeks hurt. Me. Grinning. About a boy.
“Well this is new,” Timbra said with a wry turn of her mouth. I raised my shoulders in a helpless shrug. There was really no explaining it anyway.
“You look amazing,” Ewan said as his gaze swept me from head to toe. “You look nice too, Timbra. Let’s go. Everyone’s dying to see you.”
As we made our way through the expansive house, the blond wood of its interior was airy and open. The faint undertones of the wood structure, combined with occasional drifts of the vegetables grilling outside, smelled like home. My outlook elevated to damn-near ecstatic. My heart was full, and I was happy.
We joined the party through the open French doors leading to the back patio and pool. Someone had strung lights, and they swayed in the evening breeze, throwing streams of light like tiny, subdued disco balls.
Timbra stopped in her tracks when she saw how many had gathered for the party. She smiled widely when she saw our close friends were there: Layla and Mari, Raynor, Bex. Several others from The Root, too, as well as Loryn and her husband, Sterling, and some of their friends.
Timbra scanned the crowd until she found Boone, and her legs shot forward, dragging her body with them. She ran to him, wrapped her arms around his neck. He was stunned but quickly squeezed her to him. His wide blue eyes filled with tears in front of us all, but he didn’t care. Neither did she. None of us could look away, and we watched the scene unfold like a telenovella as he kissed her fawn hair and lay his cheek against her head.
But his forehead folded in confusion when she stepped away from him and cleared her throat. Timbra took a deep breath, stood to her full height.
“I have some news,” she announced and twisted her hands nervously. “This is a celebration. I’m returning to The Root.”
Boone’s mouth fell open and then formed into questions, “What? How?”
“My father’s agreed to send me back. And even if he hadn’t, I was coming back to you. I’d have found an apartment, a job, some way to be in the city.”
“And us?” Boone whispered. His eyes shot back and forth between Timbra’s as he awaited her answer. “What about us?”
Timbra nodded and smiled, her face crinkling into a beacon of happiness. Boone’s own face lit with unfiltered joy. He picked her up and swung her in a circle. Neither could contain the laughter that bubbled within them and spilled out to the crowd, who cheered and clanked cups in toasts. The atmosphere was electric with excitement, elation. It was unforgettable—one of the best moments of my life.
Ewan was caught up in the moment, too, and pulled me into him. I looked up in wonder. My heart felt so full, so happy, so…
Could this be what it feels like to fall in love? I thought.
Since the loss of my mother, for the first time in my life good things had begun stacking on top of one another. I had found the place I belonged, I’d made beloved friends, I had family—two sets.
Gaspare had arranged for me to have Timbra back at The Root; Timbra’s father had ceded his familial heritage to his political future. And it was beginning to feel possible to return the feelings Ewan had for me, which were much stronger than he had ever let on. My fractured heart had been re-glazed with love, acceptance, and potential. For a moment I thought my heart might shatter again, only this time, the thousand pieces would shoot up to meet the stars.
Pia’s incessant buzzing brought me back to solid ground. I excused myself to check her message.
“Whattup, Pia?” I asked, unfettered by the distraction.
“You’ve received a message from S.D.”
My heart plunged into my stomach. “Ah. Okay. What’s it say? Please read it.”
“Stella,” Pia intoned. “Heard you’re having a party. Sounds like fun. Came as far as the woods. Would love to join you.”
What the hell is he thinking? He really is mad. “That’s the entire message, Pia?”
“It is.”
I had no idea what to do and ran a hand through my hair, which had been styled to perfection.
Timbra caught sight of my snafu. “I didn’t spend twenty minutes on that wild red mess you call hair to have you pawing at it all night.”
“Sorry,” I jerked my hand from my head, but couldn’t keep still.
“And now you’re gnawing your cuticles. What’s up with you? Is it Ewan?”
“No, no. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. This is your night. Let’s go talk to Layla.”
“Something’s up with you, Stonewall. What is it?”
I let out a hard breath. I didn’t want to tell her. Didn’t want to acknowledge what was actually happening. She tapped a foot impatiently and stared me down.
“That guy from the bistro the other day?” She nodded in recognition. “He’s here. Wants to come to the party.”
“Great. The more the merrier.”
“You don’t understand. He’s…he’s. Well, there are still some things I’ve not yet told you about my family.”
“Oh, for gods’ sake, Stella. Just go get the guy. Tonight’s a celebration. You know I don’t have any hangups about your family.”
“But. No. He’s—”
“Go,” she said, her voice deepening with force. “It’s my party. Go get him, or I will.”
I left, but resolved to talk Stryde out of joining the party. He didn’t know anyone, after all. And he should definitely not be seen by so many people. It was my job to talk some sense into him.
What I didn’t realize was how difficult it would be to talk sense into someone who’d lost his mind.
* * *
“Stryde, hello.” He looked less agitated than he had before. There were no tremors that I noticed. His movements were smoother, less jerky. I breathed a little easier.
Stryde rushed me with a hug before I could step away from it. I stiffened at the awkward embrace, but endured it. At first. When he clutched me tighter and sniffed me, I wriggled for release. He didn’t let go and my heart stuttered in panic. After pushing against his chest, he finally released me, though his gaze remained fixed on mine.
“You smell of wolf,” he said. “Too much of wolf.”
“You know what, Stryde? That is not your business. And I am awful damn tired of everybody sniffing me all the time. I don’t care if it’s a Thayerian thing, or that you can’t help it. It’s rude. Keep your nose to yourself.”
“Is it the wolf’s house? The party?”
“What? Yes. What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “I came to see you. I want to meet your friends.” He said it as though it was the most normal thing in the world.
“But, you can’t. You’re in hiding. If anyone recognizes you we’re in big trouble.”
“No one will recognize me. No one knows me. I’ve been away for a long time. Too long. I was coop
ed up with only my dad and grandma for years. And now I’m stuck in a minuscule cabin with them. I can’t go anywhere, can’t make new friends. Can’t have people to my own home. Nothing’s changed since our imprisonment. I’m going mad.” He laughed without humor. “Well, madder. Please, Stella. I need this. I need to feel normal. To remember what it’s like to be young again. To be free, if only for an hour.”
My eyes fell closed and I shook my head. “It’s not a good idea. There’s just too much at risk. Things’ll get better with time, Stryde. I know they will.”
“Please,” he whispered. His hopeless desperation was so evident it hurt my heart. My resolve turned to dust and floated to the forest floor.
“All right,” I said. “But please, keep it together. This is a celebration. Enjoy yourself, and then go back to the safety of your cabin.”
He smiled, and it almost didn’t give me the creeps. He was truly happy. I knew he deserved happiness, and it was gratifying to know I could give him a little.
I held out my arm for a connection to trace together. Rather than hold my forearm, as intended, he ran his calloused fingers through my closed fist, forcing it open. He squeezed his fingers between mine in an odd, stiff clasp. I shook my head, gritted my teeth, and lifted a foot to take us back to the party.
When we arrived back near the pool Timbra noticed at once and waved a friendly hello to Stryde, who bowed formally in response. Ewan saw us, too, and made his way toward me.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said to Stryde and offered an outstretched hand.
When Stryde moved to return the greeting Ewan caught his scent. It was evident in his stiff posture, in the hard set of his jaw the moment he pieced it all together. His eyes shot to me, to Stryde, back to me. I could almost see the inner workings of his too-clever mind. He was running over the potential scenarios. I could almost imagine his thought process: should he throw Stryde out? Should he berate me for my stupidity in bringing him here? Should he alert the authorities? Should he keep cool, act like nothing was wrong, hope for the best, and let the celebration continue?
