“They’re magic apples?” Lily’s eyes widened when she looked at Wick.
“In a way.” Wick gave a small laugh. “I put a spell on the seeds, and everywhere the roots touch, the creatures will never come around. It’s not a very strong spell, but it’s good enough for what lives in this forest. Anything too powerful wouldn’t have any trouble getting in, but I keep to myself, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Hmmm.” Lily set the apple on the table, not sure what to make of it. It tasted horrible, but it was beautiful and magic, so it seemed like a waste to toss it aside. “Do you need help with anything?”
“No.” Wick touched at her hair, watching the way Lily stared at the apple. “You’re probably hungry, aren’t you?” She hadn’t eaten anything all day, but that wasn’t unusual for her.
“I could eat,” Lily admitted shyly.
Wick didn’t have much in the way of food. She lived alone, dined alone, and often busied herself too much with magic and potions to remember to eat. Rummaging through her cupboards, she found an old loaf of bread, and she whipped up a simple broth. Adding a handful of red berries they’d picked that day, and Wick had made a rather presentable supper.
Lily sat on a stool by the fire, dipping her bread into the broth to soften it, while Wick sat at the kitchen table. While Lily ate, Wick munched absently on berries and pulled out her grimoira, cataloguing everything in detail in her spell book. She kept careful record of everything she collected and used because she was always trying to improve or create new recipes for magic.
“Thank you for taking me in. I really appreciate all of your hospitality,” Lily said between bites of her food. Wick mumbled something but didn’t look up. “I know my mother would be very grateful to you for this.”
The mention of her mother made Wick stop writing. She stared down at the page for a moment, remembering a friend she hadn’t thought of in years. Guilt washed over her, knowing that’s not how Iris would feel at all. Iris would be angry with her for not doing a better job of watching out for Lily all this time, and Wick hated knowing that she’d failed the only friend she’d ever really had.
Wick lifted her head, wanting to say something meaningful to her about her mother, but something else caught her attention – the jacket hanging on the chair across from her, the way it had been all day. She’d spotted it from time to time, the scent of brimstone wafting from it ever so slightly. She kept meaning to bring it up, but she always got sidetracked. This time, she’d stick to it. It’s the least she could do for Iris.
“Where did you get that?” Wick asked.
“What?” Lily asked, swallowing down a chunk of bread.
“The jacket.” Wick turned back to look at her, and Lily lowered her head. “Who gave it to you?”
“A … friend,” Lily answered quietly. She stopped eating her bread and resorted to tearing it into small bites to busy her hands. The harsh tone in Wick’s voice made Lily afraid to say anything about Lux. Besides that, she didn’t really know what to say about him.
“Whoever gave you this jacket is nobody’s friend,” Wick told her firmly. Lily didn’t say anything and stared down at her lap.
“He’s not really a friend,” Lily admitted softly.
Her mind went back to Lux, the way it always seemed to whenever it had a chance. Her heart swelled inside her chest, and she flushed with warmth as her pulse quickened. When he’d left her in the woods, it’d been confusing and painful, but everything else about him felt wonderful. The way he looked at her, the way his hands were hot on her skin, the way he smelled and tasted and felt.
“Lily!” Wick snapped, pulling her out of her thoughts. “How did you come by this? Did he… did he do something to you?”
Lily shook her head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.”
But what was it like, exactly? As tremendous as all her memories and feelings were about him, very little that had transpired between them had been good, and they’d only know each other a very short while.
“I met him at the ball,” Lily said at length. “He…” She trailed off, not wanting to tell Wick about the kiss. She’d only react with disappointment. “We talked. He made me feel … like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He asked me to leave with him, and he took me to the Necrosilvam. He told me to go in the woods and hide out, and made me promise to never go home again.”
“He just left you here?” Wick’s forehead crinkled with confusion. “Why didn’t he want you to go back to the palace?”
“He didn’t say. He just told me that whatever waited in this forest was better than what waited for me anywhere else.” Lily shook her head and shrugged. “I don’t know what he meant by that but … I know this all sounds crazy, but I know he was trying to protect me.”
“Did he make plans to meet you again?” Wick asked.
“No.” A pain tore through her heart as she realized she might never see him again. The thought had occurred to her as soon as he’d left, but she hadn’t let herself worry about it. It hurt too much.
“You think he rescued you?” Wick asked, bewildered and unbelieving.
“Yes. I suppose he did.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Wick shook her head and looked back at his jacket. “I’m not sure it’s even possible. They’re incapable of altruistic actions.”
“They?” Lily stood up, setting her bowl on the floor before walking over to Wick. “What do you know about him? Why don’t you trust him?”
“I don’t know anything about him personally,” Wick clarified. She lowered her head and attempted to go back to writing in her grimoira, or to at least look like that’s what she was doing.
“But you know something.” Lily looked at her plaintively. “Wick, please.” She pulled out the chair and sat down across from her.
“All I know is that his jacket smells like brimstone.” Wick wanted to forget the conversation and wished she’d never brought it up at all, but Lily stared expectantly at her. Sighing, she set her pen inside her book and pushed it aside. “Did your mother ever tell you about irins and daemons?”
“My mother refused to talk to me about anything like that,” Lily shook her head. “The only things I know I overheard from the servants talking.”