I think of the tidal wave of ice that had poured into me on Boston Common when he left me standing there, left me without a second thought. Stay because you love me, I’d begged, and he had looked away, and he had left. And after all that, I still rescued him. Again. Yes, I had wanted to get to his mother and ask about the fays, but really, underneath it all, if I’m totally honest, wasn’t I just trying to save his life? What is wrong with me?
I make a noise and squirm incoherently, pushing at him. He gets the gist of what I’m trying to communicate, letting me up, but he looks bewildered.
“What—” he begins.
I hold up a hand to cut him off. I am dizzy again, and it takes a second for the ruined building to stop swimming up and down around me. I wonder exactly how much of my energy Ben had to use to get us out of the Unseelie Court.
“Don’t do that again,” I tell him.
He continues to look puzzled. “Thank you?”
I give him a look that I hope is withering, swaying to my feet. “Kiss me.”
He looks surprised. “Oh, I…oh. I thought…” He looks even more confused now.
I am furious with him, sitting there on the ground, looking quite at home and quite delicious and oh, yes, I am furious with him. “You think I’m going to forget that you left me, and I’m not going to.”
“Selkie,” he says warily. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Oh, you meant to,” I spit out. “You left very deliberately. You left even though I begged you not to go.”
“Selkie,” he says. “I had to—”
“It was a trap, Ben. You walked right into a trap.”
He looks rueful. “I know. And if I had listened to you—”
“You should not have listened to me because it was a trap!” I shout at him, and my words ring around the ice-encrusted surfaces of St. David’s Ruin.
Ben gapes up at me. He is very plainly shocked. It is clear he expected nothing like this from me.
“You thought you would leave me,” I accuse, “and then you’d come back, and I’d still be here waiting for you, this lovesick little girl who’s loved you her whole life.”
“Selkie.” He finally scrambles to his feet, looking anxious. “That’s not what I thought. I thought, when I left you that day, that I was giving up every chance I might ever have with you. I never thought…I never thought I’d be able to fix it.”
I have put the coat on fully, and it feels like protective armor as I cross my arms and take an insulating step away from him. “And you went anyway.”
“I had to go. Don’t you see? I had to go.”
“I do see. If Will’s right—and I think he is—you were manipulated your entire life to that moment, and you could have saved us so much trouble if you’d just kept your promise to me. We’d still be in Boston right now. Nothing would have gone awry. There’d be no pieces to pick up. We’d be with my aunts and sure my father was with us and okay. We’d be planning our attack, and we’d be happy. But you couldn’t.”
“Selkie,” he says firmly. “I’m sorry. I am. I’m very sorry. But we’ll fix it, okay? We’ll go back to Boston, and we’ll find your aunts and your father, and we’ll plan our attack and—you came after me. You came…You came to save me. You’re the only being I’ve ever met who ever wanted to save me before, Selkie.”
He looks amazed at this, amazed at me. I want to weep, half from sorrow and half from sharp and painful anger, because he’s looking at me like he loves me, like I am the most astonishing creature in the Otherworld or beyond, like he really does think it’s true that no one other than me would ever lift a finger to save him. And I don’t want to think that that might be true, because then I would forget about the fact that he lied to me and betrayed me, and I would just cuddle him and tell him that of course I would always save him.
And it’s true, I think with a sinking feeling of inevitability—I would, much as I should no longer feel that way. Even with everything he’d done to me, there was a part of me that could so vividly imagine the idea of raw pain in Ben’s starlight eyes and no one being there to comfort him, no one there to push his unruly curls off his forehead and hug him close and make him feel better.
The unerring, shameful truth about me is that I have always wanted to be there for everything about Ben. I lived a life without him, when he enchanted me into forgetting him, and I remember how much I missed him without even knowing who he was, how much I wandered through Boston Common looking for him without knowing what I could possibly be looking for. I never stopped looking for him, everywhere I went, and that was before I knew him.
And yet, together with all of that, I can’t help but remember that he left. We could have been perfect, he and I. We could have been our own little faerie tale. And he ruined it. “You promised me that you would never leave me.” I am so annoyed that my voice is choked up when I say it. “You promised me. And then you did. As if it was nothing. As if that promise meant nothing to you. Those were just words you told me, to keep me near you a bit longer, to manipulate me.”
“That’s not true,” he interrupts swiftly, but I interrupt him. I refuse to stop now that I’ve started.
“And I trusted you, Ben. All anyone ever told me was that I shouldn’t; you told me yourself not to do it, and I did. And then you…then you…” I can’t even say it, because I’m scared if I do, I’ll start crying.
Ben stands across from me, the vision of him swimming a bit in front of my eyes. I don’t know if it’s because I’m crying or because I’m so dizzy. His eyes look…hurt. Which isn’t fair, because he hurt me. He hurt me worse than anyone ever has before, Seelies and Unseelies included. He is not allowed to be hurt.
“Selkie,” he says, and what he says next almost makes me hate him. “I love you. I do. And I love that you trust me. I’ve never had anyone—that’s not something I—we’re not very good at it, not naturally. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“I trusted you,” I correct him, and I hope I sound cold and overbearing about it instead of small and wounded. “I trusted you, more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else in my life. You were my constant. You were the one who was always there. You made me feel safe and protected, and you were…” I admit it then. “You were mine. But you weren’t. You’re not. I trusted you when everyone told me not to, and then you left, and you made me feel insignificant and stupid.”
“Selkie,” he says desperately. He takes a step toward me, but he must see me tense, because he doesn’t come any closer. “Selkie, I handled it poorly. I’m so sorry. Please, I just—I handled it poorly, I can—”
“Never trust a faerie,” I remind him. “You told me that I was appallingly bad at remembering that. You told me that right here, right where we’re standing. When I said that the only faerie I trusted was you, you told me that’s why I was so appallingly bad at it. Do you remember?”
“I—”
I don’t give him a chance to respond. “I don’t know why I didn’t listen to you then, but I’ve learned my lesson now. I’m sorry, Benedict.” I use the name very deliberately, and I see the blink of reaction in him, a small flinch, even though I haven’t really intended to name him. I just wanted to put distance between us, have him not be, for a second, the familiar Ben of lazy summer days on the Common. “I think you could promise the world now, the moon and the stars and your undying love. And how could I ever believe you?”
He looks stunned, too stunned to manage to say anything.
I feel very tired now that this conversation seems concluded. I wonder if I meant any of it. I feel like I did, but I also feel like, if Ben would like to hold me right now, I would be okay with that. If Ben would like a second chance, if he would like to beg me for one, it probably wouldn’t take me long to change my mind and give it to him.
It would’ve been nice if I could’ve fallen out of love with him the minute he broke his promise
to me.
I feel as if I am swaying on my feet. I actually stretch out a hand to steady myself on something, but there is nothing there to serve that purpose.
Ben’s eyes are no longer stunned; they are concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I mean what I’m saying.”
“Yes,” he clips out, frowning. “I’ve grasped that.”
“I’m happy you’re safe. I am. I’m glad we were able to save you. I don’t want you to die.”
“Good to know,” drawls Ben.
“Just don’t kiss me again.” I turn away from him, and I want to be able to walk off grandly, head held high, showing how very okay I am with all of this.
Up is down and down is up. It’s like being kissed by Ben. It’s like being…it’s like…falling over. Or it is falling over. I don’t know. Am I on the ground? Am I in Ben’s arms?
“Selkie,” he says and shakes me, hands on my shoulders. “Selkie.”
“Don’t kiss me,” I manage blurrily.
“Would you stop it with that?” he snaps. “Tell me what’s wrong with you. I can’t fix you until we figure it out. Selkie.” He shakes me again.
“I feel sick,” I inform him and tip forward against his shoulder. I am shivering violently, but I am burning hot, and the world rocks around me, making me queasy. I close my hands into Ben’s shirts. “Stop moving,” I beg him. “Stop moving.”
“I’m not,” he says. His arms go up, holding me to him, and I should tell him to stop that. “I’m not. Selkie, darling, you’re wearing my sweatshirt. Let me put the charm back on you. We need to push this off—”
He is probably making sense, and I am willing to listen to what he has to say, but first he has to stop twirling me around. “Stop moving, please,” I plead.
He is gone suddenly, I am crumpled to the ground in a heap, and the ruin spins around me like a carousel. Then Ben is pushing at my coat. Is he undressing me?
“Don’t,” I try to frown at him.
“I have to get this coat off you. I think it’s killing you,” he responds. His voice sounds frantic with worry. I wish I could understand what he’s worried about. Maybe if he stopped touching me, I could pay attention to him. “Selkie, help me, come on, darling, please.” He keeps tugging at my coat.
“It’s cold,” I tell him. “I’m not having sex with you here.”
He rolls me, still tugging at my coat. He is practically manhandling me, and I am trying to resist but I am doing a terrible job of it.
“Plus,” I continue, “I feel sick.”
He seems to have succeeded in getting my coat off me. Now I am shuddering even more violently, and he gathers me up in his arms, pulling me close, and I am grateful for the warmth. The world looks like twilight; it is a swirl of violets. I can barely make out Ben, and I blink, trying to clear my vision, but the dimness is better. I can no longer really see the world whirring by me, and that’s better.
“Selkie.” Ben’s voice is low and urgent. “Selkie, listen to me, please listen to me.” He presses his forehead against mine. “Love me, just for a little while, the way you used to, please. Love me and let me in. I can’t fix this with you fighting me this way. We’ll finish this fight later, I promise. Love me now. Love me the way you used to.”
“Don’t kiss me,” I tell him. I seem to remember that this is important. I close my eyes and lean into the press of his forehead, to the solidity of his body. He is the only thing in the universe not spinning. He is the only fixed point I can find, and I am half-annoyed at that, for reasons I can only half form. Must he always be my fixed point? I think. Must he always?
“I’m not going to kiss you,” he assures me. “Just tell me you love me. Tell me it once, Selkie, just this once. Just whisper it in my ear and I’ll pretend I never heard it. Just tell me.”
What harm can it do? I think. Maybe I’ll tell him, and then he’ll leave me alone, he’ll put me down, and the world will be right side up again. “I love you,” I say. And then I figure he might as well know the rest of it. “And I’ll always save you. Don’t worry.”
For a split second, the world is finally still. I hear Ben take a breath that is more like a shudder, and then he presses a kiss to my forehead. I want to remind him that he promised not to kiss me, but then I think that maybe he meant kissing my mouth and so maybe I’ll let him off on this technicality and be more specific next time.
“Likewise,” he says shakily into my ear, and I don’t really remember what he’s likewise-ing.
I’d think harder about it, except that the world finally spins itself out and I find myself in blackness.
CHAPTER 12
The world is loud and it is soft. Sometimes there are people shouting all around me, and sometimes there is nothing but the whisper of a breath beside me. Sometimes I am so hot that I feel that my skin is on fire and I push at everything near me in an effort to find some relief, and sometimes I am so cold that I shiver until it hurts and it doesn’t matter how many things are wrapped around me.
It is lonely and I am all alone, although it seems to me that whenever I think that, Ben’s voice drifts through my head, a low murmur. I’m here. I’m right here.
And he is.
I open my eyes, and I am in my room. My own bedroom, at home, on Beacon Hill. It is dim in the room, twilight, or else early morning, just before dawn.
I feel hollow and fragile, like if I move I might be ill, so I stay in exactly the position I’m in, concentrating on breathing and trying to remember how I got here. Because I wasn’t here. Was I? I don’t think I was. My mind is a massive tangle; getting a handle on the recent past is like trying to stagger my way through brambles.
So instead I try to focus on as many present sensations as I can—the slide of the sheet against me and the cradle of the pillow underneath my head. I am on my side, tipped toward my window, and my hands are…caught up in something I know I should recognize…
I close my hand into fists, and someone sighs, the mattress shifting a bit under me.
I look down. Ben is in a chair next to me, and he is clearly sleeping, leaned over, his head on the bed next to me. It looks as if it should be uncomfortable, but after he finishes stirring, he seems to fall back into a deep sleep. I look at my hands, closed into fistfuls of his hair, and then slowly, carefully, I uncurl my fingers and disentangle them. Ben sleeps on.
I stay very still, no longer just because I don’t want to get sick but because I don’t want Ben to wake up. Although it appears to me that I’ve been sleeping for many hours, if not days. Honestly, I feel exhausted, and I don’t feel up to another argument with Ben. The truth is I can’t quite remember how we left things. Everything from the moment he gave me the coat is a vague blur. There were kisses, but there was also…there was…I told him, didn’t I? That I couldn’t trust him anymore? Did I make him understand that? I am too tired to try to untangle the complicated interweaving of heartbroken devotion.
I am concentrating so hard on trying to remember how the conversation with Ben ended that I’m not sure how long I lay there staring at him before I realize that he’s awake. He has turned his head, still resting on my mattress, and is regarding me calmly, his eyes pale, barely a hint of color, and inscrutable.
“You’re awake,” he says eventually, after we look at each other for a long moment.
I feel too weak to even speak to him. I manage to nod.
“Really awake,” he says. He reaches out a hand and presses it against the curve of my cheek. I close my eyes, even though I don’t want to.
He takes his hand away and makes a curious shuddering sound. I open my eyes, since that’s not what I expected, and he’s buried his face in the bedspread.
I want to say something to him, although I don’t know what, and he lifts his head before I can decide. I realize for the first time that he looks awful, pale and drawn,
dark smudges under his eyes. His hair is not the good kind of unkempt. I wonder if he’s been sick too.
“I’m sorry,” he tells me. He leans back in the chair. “I didn’t realize the coat was cursed.”
This feels like the precursor to a serious conversation, which I do not have the energy for. I am dying for a glass of water, and I wonder if Ben is the right faerie to ask to find me some.
But there is no need, because then the door is flung open and both of my aunts scurry through and fall upon me, a mass of hugs and kisses and exclamations from them, until finally somebody thinks to give me some water. When I am able to take stock of things again, every person is in the room—my aunts and Will and the Erlking and Kelsey and Safford—except for Ben, who is nowhere to be seen.
Kelsey and my aunts are clustered by the bed, looking at me in concern. They look as if they might never stop looking at me in concern.
“How do you feel?” Kelsey asks me.
“Fine,” I lie, because I feel terrible, but I’m not delirious or semiconscious, so I suppose that I am fine in comparison to that. “What happened?”
“We weren’t there…” Kelsey begins, looking to my aunts.
“We don’t know,” Aunt True says with a sniff of disapproval.
“Well, we know what Benedict said,” Aunt Virtue contributes.
“He staggered through the door with you unconscious in his arms and started babbling about cursed coats,” Aunt True continues.
“You’ve been sick for days, sweetheart.” Aunt Virtue reaches out and tenderly brushes my hair away from my face.
I feel, in that moment, very loved.
I look at Kelsey. “But where were you?”
She looks alarmed. “Getting back from the Unseelie Court. Remember?”
I do, now that she mentions it. I feel like my memory is awakening slowly. “Oh. Right. That’s right. Ben and I went to get the coat. The coat that was cursed. Right.”
“Only it took Benedict an extraordinarily long time to figure out the coat was cursed,” comments Will. He is leaning against the wall at the foot of my bed. He sounds and looks casual, but I can tell he’s anything but.
The Boy with the Hidden Name: Otherworld Book Two Page 12
