Read Online Neferet's Curse: A House of Night Novella (House of Night Novellas) by P. C. Cast - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: P. C. Cast
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will say nothing of tonight to your father except to repeat what a lovely hostess his daughter was.”
“Thank you, Arthur.”
He did sit beside me then. Not close, but his scent came to me—cigars and something that was almost sweet. Thinking back I realize that was foolish. How could a man smell of sweetness? But I didn’t know him well enough yet to understand that the absence of strong spirits and cigars on his breath seemed sweet after Father’s foul odor.
“Do you come here often?” His question had seemed such an easy one to answer.
“Yes, I do.”
“And your father doesn’t know you do?”
I’d hesitated only a moment. His eyes were so kind—his gaze so honest—and he said he’d wanted to be my friend. Surely I could confide in him, but perhaps I should do so carefully. I’d shrugged nonchalantly and found an answer that was as truthful as it was vague. “Oh, Father is so busy with business that he rarely even notices the gardens.”
“But you like them?”
I’d nodded. “I do. They’re beautiful.”
“At night? But it’s so dark and you are so very alone.”
“Well, as you are my friend now I feel I can tell you a secret, even though it may not be very ladylike.” I’d smiled shyly up at him.
Arthur grinned mischievously. “Is it your secret that isn’t ladylike, or the telling of it to me?”
“I am afraid perhaps it is both.” My shyness had begun to evaporate, and I’d even dared to lower my lashes coquettishly.
“Now I am intrigued. As your friend, I insist you tell me.” He’d leaned a little toward me.
I’d met his eyes and trusted him with the truth. “I like the darkness. It’s friendly and comforting.”
His smile had dimmed, and I’d worried that I truly had let my words reveal too much. But when he spoke his voice had lost none of his kindness. “Poor Emily, I can imagine you’ve needed to be comforted these past months, and if this garden comforts you, day or night, then I say it is a wondrous place indeed!”
I’d felt a rush of relief, and of joy at his empathy. “Yes, you see, it is my escape and my oasis. Close your eyes and breathe deeply. You’ll forget that it’s night.”
“Well, all right. I will.” He’d closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “What is that lovely scent? I didn’t notice it until now.”
“It’s the stargazer lilies. They’ve just begun to bloom,” I’d explained happily. “No, keep your eyes closed. Now, listen. Tell me what you hear.”
“Your voice, which sounds to me as sweet as the lilies smell.”
His compliment made my head light, but I’d scolded him with mock seriousness. “Not me, Arthur. Listen to the silence and tell me what you hear within it.”
He’d kept his eyes closed, tilted his head, and said, “Water. I hear the fountain.”
“Exactly! I especially like sitting here, hidden under this willow. It is as if I have found my own world where I can hear the sound of the water rushing from the fountain and imagine that I’m riding my bicycle again beside the lake with the wind in my hair and no one and nothing catching me.”
Arthur opened his eyes and met my gaze. “No one? No one at all? Not even a special friend?”
My whole body had felt flushed and I’d said, “Perhaps now I could imagine a friend joining me, and I do remember how you love to bicycle.”
He’d surprised me then by slapping his forehead. “Bicycle! That reminds me of how I found you here in the garden. I excused myself early so that I might return home to speak to Father before he goes to bed. I’d bicycled here, and was alone, mounting my bicycle to return home when I heard laughter.” He’d paused, and his voice had deepened. “It was the most beautiful laughter I had ever in my life heard. It seemed to be coming from the grounds behind the house. I saw the garden gate, opened it, and followed the sound to you.”
“Oh.” I’d breathed the word on a happy sigh, my face feeling even warmer. I’d
“Thank you, Arthur.”
He did sit beside me then. Not close, but his scent came to me—cigars and something that was almost sweet. Thinking back I realize that was foolish. How could a man smell of sweetness? But I didn’t know him well enough yet to understand that the absence of strong spirits and cigars on his breath seemed sweet after Father’s foul odor.
“Do you come here often?” His question had seemed such an easy one to answer.
“Yes, I do.”
“And your father doesn’t know you do?”
I’d hesitated only a moment. His eyes were so kind—his gaze so honest—and he said he’d wanted to be my friend. Surely I could confide in him, but perhaps I should do so carefully. I’d shrugged nonchalantly and found an answer that was as truthful as it was vague. “Oh, Father is so busy with business that he rarely even notices the gardens.”
“But you like them?”
I’d nodded. “I do. They’re beautiful.”
“At night? But it’s so dark and you are so very alone.”
“Well, as you are my friend now I feel I can tell you a secret, even though it may not be very ladylike.” I’d smiled shyly up at him.
Arthur grinned mischievously. “Is it your secret that isn’t ladylike, or the telling of it to me?”
“I am afraid perhaps it is both.” My shyness had begun to evaporate, and I’d even dared to lower my lashes coquettishly.
“Now I am intrigued. As your friend, I insist you tell me.” He’d leaned a little toward me.
I’d met his eyes and trusted him with the truth. “I like the darkness. It’s friendly and comforting.”
His smile had dimmed, and I’d worried that I truly had let my words reveal too much. But when he spoke his voice had lost none of his kindness. “Poor Emily, I can imagine you’ve needed to be comforted these past months, and if this garden comforts you, day or night, then I say it is a wondrous place indeed!”
I’d felt a rush of relief, and of joy at his empathy. “Yes, you see, it is my escape and my oasis. Close your eyes and breathe deeply. You’ll forget that it’s night.”
“Well, all right. I will.” He’d closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “What is that lovely scent? I didn’t notice it until now.”
“It’s the stargazer lilies. They’ve just begun to bloom,” I’d explained happily. “No, keep your eyes closed. Now, listen. Tell me what you hear.”
“Your voice, which sounds to me as sweet as the lilies smell.”
His compliment made my head light, but I’d scolded him with mock seriousness. “Not me, Arthur. Listen to the silence and tell me what you hear within it.”
He’d kept his eyes closed, tilted his head, and said, “Water. I hear the fountain.”
“Exactly! I especially like sitting here, hidden under this willow. It is as if I have found my own world where I can hear the sound of the water rushing from the fountain and imagine that I’m riding my bicycle again beside the lake with the wind in my hair and no one and nothing catching me.”
Arthur opened his eyes and met my gaze. “No one? No one at all? Not even a special friend?”
My whole body had felt flushed and I’d said, “Perhaps now I could imagine a friend joining me, and I do remember how you love to bicycle.”
He’d surprised me then by slapping his forehead. “Bicycle! That reminds me of how I found you here in the garden. I excused myself early so that I might return home to speak to Father before he goes to bed. I’d bicycled here, and was alone, mounting my bicycle to return home when I heard laughter.” He’d paused, and his voice had deepened. “It was the most beautiful laughter I had ever in my life heard. It seemed to be coming from the grounds behind the house. I saw the garden gate, opened it, and followed the sound to you.”
“Oh.” I’d breathed the word on a happy sigh, my face feeling even warmer. I’d
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