overdosed on confidence
Everywhere I look there is a new glimmer of sunlight—caught on the silvery crash of burbling water in our fountain; the droplets that cascade down the marble sides of it; on the many panes of polished glass, the crowns of dark green leaves; the tremblingly tall stacks of filigreed china teacups, the gold clasp that lays flat against my chest.
This is what it feels like to be home. Opulence everywhere. Andras smells like Dawn, a sappy, sharp pine-scent that makes me want to sneeze in indignation, not nearly the sweet kind of perfume I’m used to. Maybe that’s why I’m so attracted to it. Maybe that’s why it’s so distracting—everything is right and relevant except this: the insistent crackling of electricity that spills onto me from Andras’ wings, the scent on his skin of trees and moss and deep-dark water.
I force myself to look ahead. I’m grinding my jaw, keeping my head down as the sound of hissing grows louder and louder in the shell of my ear. When I huff out a breath, it’s so deep it makes my chest ache. The servants are still watching.
Andras says sure, like I knew he would. A part of a smile flashes across my mouth; I tuck it closer to my chest, maybe trying to hide it (though not trying very hard).
Then we are winding out of the sun-splashed courtyard away from the warm air, ducking into the cold embrace of the shaded corridors which bristle with the outstretched arms of so many plants. I sidle a little closer to my guest, until our shoulders might brush. And then we plunge through the drawing room, brimming with ornately woven rugs, plush chairs, and trembling towers of hard-bound books, and then finally into the kitchen, which is still quite active with cooks preparing breakfast, steeping tea and slicing fruit.
The clatter of dishes and running water is a balm to me, the same soft collection of noises that has lulled me to sleep and woken me up since childhood. I find us two generously polished glasses, stock them with ice, and pour each of us a neat shot. Sunlight streams in through the starboard window; I screw my right eye up against the glare, trying instead to focus on the way Andras stares at me—jaw clenched like he's trying to hold something in, eyes flashing like fireworks, like he's pushing something down.
I smile, though only halfway. Are you surprised? the warden asks.
"No," I answer. Simple. Clean. Biting back a lazy grin, I take the first sip.
@
