Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) (26 page)

             
“Hey,” he says softly.

             
“Hey,” I reply, my eyes finally
lifting
north. Great. He seems as uncomfortable as I
am. This is going to be a fun
day.

             
“So what would you like to do today?”

             
I huff. As if.
“How’s canopy diving sound to you?”

             
He smiles and places the lantern down in the center, sitting opposite of me on the floor. “Sounds cool. You ever done it before?”

             
“What do you think?”

             
“Well, I already know you’re pretty fearless. And I’m willing to bet you like to feel a good rush. So, yeah, I think you’ve been canopy diving before.”

             
I nod in approval. “I also love diving off waterfalls.”

             
“Doesn’t that get your wings wet?”

             
“A little. So long as you don’t dive too close to the water, your wings will shake it off.”

             
He huffs, but I think he’s really impressed by that. I’m guessing he’s never thought to try it before, afraid the water would impair his ability to fly.

             
I close my eyes and mentally recall the day I was stolen, diving from my tree house, remembering the unbreakable smile across my face. “The rush of wind upon your face, the adrena
line rushing through your body…i
t’s like nothing else. I love that feeling.” The smile that crept across my face begins to fade as I realize I’ll probably never get to feel it again. “Jack?” I ask gently, my eyes still closed and my head resting back against the wall.

             
“Yeah?”

             
“Promise me I’ll get to dive again before I die.”

             
“You’re not going to die, Rosalie. Not here. That I can promise you.”

             
I shake my head in amusement. If only Jack
could
determine my fate.

             
“You do realize Finley has no intention of
ever
letting me go, right? Even if I was broken. He’d never risk me telling the other pixies that the world they’re kept in is all an illusion.”

             
Since my eyes are closed, I’m unsure of his reaction, and because silence is all that follows. After awhile, a melodic tune begins soothing the air around us. It’s the first time he’s ever played his harmonica down here, at least for me directly. It’s louder now that he’s close, our small accommodations amplifying his notes, and I love the way the sound vibrations tickle the hairs in my ears. I’m pretty sure I’m still smiling when his music finally sings me to sleep.

Today is a good day. Jack and I are both cheery, the awkwardness seemingly fading between us. We’ve been careful not to make physical contact, even accidentally. I’ve spent the past several days trying to walk the diameter of my rocky hole to strengthen what little muscle I have in my legs. I don’t really see a difference, but I can feel it. Now that I’m getting plenty of food and water courtesy of Jack, my body’s not attacking what’s left of my muscle for nourishment. With each day I’m able to add several more laps. The soles of my feet have healed and are thickening daily, so unless I step on a particularly sharp peak, it doesn’t hurt to walk over the rocks anymore.  

             
Jack plays his harmonica a lot. I welcome the sound when it fills the silence, since neither of us feels obligated to converse constantly. He’s actually pretty good at it, and his song choices are endless. The music is pacifying, and something about it makes me feel completely at ease. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but it’s almost like the music bewitches me, luring me into a sound sleep.

             
Hmm…I wonder.
Maybe he thinks as long I’m asleep, I won’t be able to develop deeper emotions for him. But unbeknownst to him, he plays the male lead in my dreams, as well as in my reality, so even sleeping won’t remove him from my thoughts.

I awake when Jack begins his descent, the sound of him clearing his throat snapping me out of my slumber. The strap of his satchel is taut and firmly stretches across his chest, the bag’s contents overflowing and bulging through the sturdy material. Today he’s wearing a black shirt and thin
,
loose pants with multiple pockets down the legs – I wonder why he didn’t stuff anything in those. His smile is warm and instigates mine. His hair is growing longer, the dark brown curls becoming heavy, stretching out into waves, making it easier to tuck behind his ears.

             
“Morning, Rosalie.” He touches down softly, sets the lantern on the floor and steadies the satchel as he lifts the strap off his body. I don’t know why, but it still surprises me that he seems happy to see me each day. It’s kind of nice seeing a friendly smile in this prison.

             
“Morning, Jack. What exactly are you packing in there anyway?”

             
“Well, first off…” He digs through the bag and pulls out a canteen for me. “Your breakfast. Strawberries and banana and cream.”

             
My eyes pop and my mouth waters before I can even reach for it. “Wow. Do I have your sister to thank for this again?”

             
“Nope. Me.” His eyes light up and he flashes me an excited smile. Digging through his bag, he removes two tin capsules. They’re similar to the one the honey was in, but smaller, just like the ones Poppy and I keep by our wash stands. “This you owe my sister for,
be
cause I swiped it from her room.”

             
He unscrews the capsules. There’s compacted powder in each container; one a yellowish hue, the other a dark plum. Makeup? Really?

             
“Jack, I know I look pretty bad, but I don’t think makeup will help at this point.”

             
After letting loose a soft chuckle, he responds, “Actually, Rosalie, you’re looking pretty good these days.
Too
good.” He cocks his eyebrows and I’m left wondering if that remark has a double meaning. Jittery butterflies pop to life in my abdomen. I sigh…he does look really cute today, constantly trying to tuck the stray lock of hair that refuses to stay behind his left ear.

             
I shake my head at the thought.
No, no – it doesn’t matter that he’s cute
, I tell myself. We’re completely different species. Well, maybe not that different... Besides our skin hues being off by a few shades, him being peach and me redder, the only other main difference is the three inches he’s got on me. Those things aside, we’re completely alike. Compatible.
No, no! We’re not compatible. The fae laws prohibit interspecies dating, Rosalie! Jeesh! Get it through your thick head already!

             
He sits beside me and my heart races, ignoring my internal pleas to cease and desist. “Your face is filling out again and you’re getting some meat back on your bones.”

             
I look down at my ribs because I have no bucket of water to check my reflection in. Sure enough, I can tell the gap between my ribs has lessened a bit. Happiness blooms within and my lips curl upwards. “Yay,” I sing softly, patting my abdomen.

             
Jack smears his thumb over the purplish powder and raises his hand to my face. Surprisingly, I don’t flinch, completely trusting whatever he plans to do. Or maybe I just secretly want to feel his touch again. His hand caresses my cheek and a burst of tickles erupt inside me, but I hold my breath and keep my exterior reactions locked tight. He holds our gaze momentarily, then focuses on his thumb as it dabs the powder beneath my eyes.

             
I pull back, and he quickly releases his grasp. “I don’t think that goes there.”

             
“It does when you’re trying to make a certain pixie look sicker than she really is. Your eye cavities aren’t that hollow any more. I’m trying to darken them so they’ll be less noticeable when Finley shows up.”

             
“Oh.” I lean forward and Jack resumes coloring my face. His touch doesn’t get the same reaction this time – I’m too focused on what he said.
When
Finley shows up. I’m unsure of the days, but Jack’s right. Finley will probably make another appearance soon. What if he can tell I’m gaining weight and that Jack’s being nice to me?
It’ll
be horrible if something happens to Jack because of me. And what if Finley breaks my wings again? Or worse, dismisses Jack permanently
?
What if I never see him again after today?

             
I shudder. My eyes close and my head dips a little.

             
Jack’s finger lifts my chin.
“Hey,”
he says softly.
I open my eyes, but sorrow has taken control of my emotions. “Try not to think about it.”

             
Evading my worries over losing Jack, I express my concerns for the second most horrifying thought bouncing around inside my head. “But my wings are already so mangled. If he breaks them again, they’ll never heal.”

             
“You don’t know that. And we don’t even know if Finley will come back here any time soon. Maybe we can come up with something that’ll get him to put you back in the pit.”

             
I recoil and my forehead furrows, my eyebrows pinching with anger. “You want to put me back in the pit?”

             
“Rosalie! No!” he bursts. Taking a second to calm himself, he says, “Trust me when I say that not a day goes by when I’m not trying to think of a way to get you out of here.”

             
“You are?”

             
He blows a long breath through his nose and glares, like I should have known that from the start. His face slowly softens and he caresses my face once more to resume dabbing the powder beneath my eyes. “Of course I am. Do you really think I’m just pixie-sitting you until Finley comes along and tells me to beat it? No. Every night I go home and look through my father’s law books to see if I can’t find something that’ll get you released. You’re here unlawfully and it’s not right. So, no. I don’t want you to go back to the pit. But I also don’t want you stuck in this hole to be Finley’s punching bag either.”

             
Jack wipes his thumb on a hand towel, dabs his other thumb in the plum powder, then begins working beneath my other eye.

             
“Does your father know what you’re doing?”

             
A puff of air rushing past his lips
, he answers, “No. He wouldn’t understand.”

             
“Doesn’t he want you to follow in his footsteps though? Wouldn’t studying his books every night please him?”

             
“If the circumstances were any different, probably.”