Within These Wicked Walls(62)

“You don’t want to use the tools?” Magnus asked.

“I trust myself.” I moved the wood until the flame caught again and began to thrive on its own.

I watched the flames dance, bright and wild like my heart. Enough stalling, Andi. “Kelela said she broke it off with you.”

Magnus made a small sound of confirmation. “She’s a smart woman.” A deep silence stretched. “Not sure how I attract such smart, caring women when I’m such a disaster of a man.”

“You’re not a disaster.”

He let out a small, bitter laugh. “I am, a little. You have to admit.”

“If you are, then … I suppose I like disasters.”

Finally, he looked at me. “After how foolish I’ve been, you still like me?”

“You’re not foolish.”

“Don’t be so generous, Andromeda. I prefer you honest.”

“I am being honest.” I hesitated, then stood up abruptly, my heart pounding. “U-um, yes. Well. We have a busy night. I should nap beforehand.”

But I didn’t leave the room. If anyone was the fool, it was I—I couldn’t speak, and yet I couldn’t bear to leave his side. I couldn’t imagine what he must’ve thought of me, seeking him out only to leave him in a rush.

He stood up beside me, and I wanted to both stay in his soothing presence, in range of his soft scent, and to drop dead.

“You have so many scars,” I heard him murmur, and turned to see that he was studying my arms. “You said Jember’s training was brutal, but I never expected…”

“Life is brutal, Magnus. My training had nothing to do with it.” Standing so close to the fireplace made the fabric of the sweater a little itchy, but despite that I pulled my sleeves down over my scarred arms. “Jember would discipline me when I was younger and didn’t know any better. But he’s never hurt me in a way I couldn’t recover from, or that didn’t teach me an important survival lesson.”

“That he hurt you at all is disgusting. What a wicked thing to do to a child.”

“You never got beatings, growing up?”

“Rarely. Certainly none that left me scarred.” He looked like he wanted to cry. I gasped, closing my eyes briefly as he ran his soft fingertips along the scar on my face. “D-did he give you this?”

I moved his hand away, suddenly self-conscious as I turned my face again so he couldn’t see it. “Some peers attacked me for defending someone. One of them had a knife, I guess—they were hitting me so much I don’t remember exactly when it happened. All I know is that if Jember hadn’t shown up I would probably be dead.”

“You think highly of him.” I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a comment. Judging by his expression, Magnus wasn’t sure, either.

“No. Well—” I felt myself scowling in thought. “He’s a pretty despicable person. If I had to name one good thing about him that wasn’t related to his work, I don’t think I could. But I care about him. And I’d defend him with my life.” I sat down in my usual chair to relieve the itching the closeness of the flame created … and to keep Magnus far enough away so he couldn’t touch me again. Being near him was more overwhelming than I’d ever anticipated. “And I think he has a heart, even if he doesn’t like to show it. It’s nice to imagine that he bought me from my parents to get me away from terrible people. That he cares about me like I care for him.”

“Your parents sold you?” I’d never heard someone sound so shocked to find out slavery was still a thriving business. Magnus collapsed into his chair, as if the weight of the world were on him. “Monsters. All fathers … monsters.”

“Your father was cursed. He didn’t choose his fate.”

“He chose to hire someone to kill him and leave me to deal with his mistakes. Even if he wasn’t a monster, he certainly wasn’t any good.”

“You knew your parents. And you have a handful of people who love you, who are working to save your life. You’re blessed.”

“How can you stay so positive? Your parents sold you off like produce. The man who raised you was abusive. Are you sure you don’t need to let off a little steam? It’s just us, Andromeda. You don’t have to pretend you’re fine with the people who have hurt you.”

“I can’t change those things. What should I be doing, complaining about them?”

“That’s what I would do.”

“Jember taught me to live by good survival habits. One of mine is well-placed optimism. If I look at all the bad in my life along with the good, the bad would bury the good in a landslide. My spirit, my will to live, would shrivel and die. So, instead, I choose to be thankful for what little good I have. And I choose to hope.”

We didn’t speak for a moment.

“I’ve noticed…” He rubbed his face, as if what he was about to say was stressful. “You’re very stiff when we touch. Another good survival habit?”

“I didn’t realize I was stiff.”

“Well…” He grinned slightly. “Not when we kiss.”

I suddenly became interested in a small scratch on the arm of the chair, hoping the firelight would hide my blush. He’d said it as if he intended to kiss me right this minute. And, God help me, I wanted to taste his lips more than anything.