Book One: The Marigold's Larkspur ~ A tale of mystery, magic, and obsession.

Chapter Twelve

The next day had arrived, and Mint remained asleep.

Cressida sat perched on a brown loveseat in the Topaz bedroom, her eyes fixed on Mint's peaceful face as her chest rose and fell beneath the thick duvet. She hadn't had a moment's rest herself; anxiety and guilt had kept her awake all night, tossing and turning.

Cressida let out a long, weary sigh and leaned back, her gaze lingering on Mint's serene features. In addition to her worries about Mint, Cressida's mind churned with guilt and doubt over her decision to confide in Callidus about being Magicborne. She knew Quail would be disappointed in her.

But Quail wasn't here.

Callidus was.

Cressida swallowed the sudden emotions his name evoked in her and turned her head to watch the moving shadows on the floor from the raindrops beating against the window.

The arched window was just slightly larger than her torso and offered a view of the courtyard outside. Cressida had been eager to see other people - at least through the glass - for the first time in more than a week, but the heavy patter of the storm for the last two days prevented that.

Still, the sound of the rain brought some measure of comfort. After all, rain sounded the same wherever you went. Eyes closed, she fantasized that she was at home, that the loveseat was her beloved armchair in her study, and Cilla had just gone off to brew her a cup of tea.

There was a knock on the door jarring Cressida from her daydream. She opened her eyes to see Callidus standing in the doorway, his eyes locking with hers. His shoulders relaxed the moment he saw her, as if he had been afraid she'd disappeared in the middle of the night. His face lit up with a soft smile.

"Here you are," he said, voice tender. "Good morning, Princess."

She gave him a half-hearted smile in response, averting her eyes almost immediately.

He walked over to her and swept her hand into his, holding it gently. "You were here all day yesterday. Aren't you tired?"

"I would have slept here if you'd let me."

Callidus leaned in to kiss the top of her knuckles, his black hair brushing the back of her hand. "Not allowed." He murmured.

Cressida felt a flutter in her chest at his touch, but quickly pulled her hand away, feeling uneasy. He was getting too comfortable with all these intimate touches, and she didn't know how to react. Men had kissed her hand before, but never had she felt such intention behind it.

Undeterred, Callidus sat close beside her, their shoulders nearly touching. "How long have you been here?"

She shifted her weight in the loveseat, creating more space between them. "Since I woke up."

Callidus's eyes scanned her form, and he quirked an eyebrow. "You dressed yourself?"

"Yes," she answered, her cheeks flushing. "Just don't check the back. It's not laced properly. Or rather, at all."

His gaze immediately flew to her back, before he purposely averted his eyes, appearing flustered. "I see," he uttered. "That won't be an issue much longer."

Cressida looked at him quizzically, unsure of what he meant. He simply smiled and said, "Come with me to your room."

Cressida glanced at Mint, still sleeping soundly, and then back at Callidus. "I don't want to leave her yet. I tried to wake her up with a different song, but it didn't work. I'm trying to think of another one to try."

Callidus tilted his head, "You'll be able to think in another room. Come with me."

"I feel bad leaving her. It's my fault she's like this."