Gifted

4: Feelings?

As we walked, I looked over at Charles. He was looking up at the sky, watching the clouds. I looked back down at the ground.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"What for?"

"For always crying and accusing and yelling."

"I understand," he said quietly. "I would probably be the same." He paused. "Hera? How much do you wish you were home?"

"With all my heart," I whispered. "At least, just long enough to tell them I love them and that I'm all right. Long enough for Artie to make me her coffee cake again. Long enough to listen to Persephone to sing. To watch Ana paint for a little while. To watch Percy try to impress Marci." I sighed. "I just want to see my family." He was silent for a few moments.

"Are you... unhappy here? Genuinely unhappy?"

"Not... terribly. Just when I miss my sisters and brother and parents. Then I am. But most of the time I'm just... scared." He looked at me for a moment. His brow furrowed. It was silent. We sat on the grass under a willow tree, and Charles was still frowning.

"Charles?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"Can I visit my family someday?" His head came up, and his eyes were upset, like a storm had come and tossed and churned the deep green sea.

"I don't want you to be a prisoner here," he said. "I want you to have freedoms and be happy. But my father has strict rules. Not only that, but how long would you be gone? What if you never came back?" I was silent. "The thing is, Hera, I like seeing you. I like talking to you like this. I like listening to you play, not just because I'm supposed to, but because you're so talented. I like it when you yell at me because it shows that my father hasn't broken you. I like watching you when you don't think I am, like when you play or walk, because you're just so beautiful." I looked at him in surprise. "And you probably think I'm crazy. I sound crazy."

"Only a little bit," I teased. He smiled.

"But in all seriousness, I do want you to be able to visit your family. That's what will make you happy." I nodded. Suddenly I realized just how close we were sitting. We were side by side, with not an inch of emptiness between us. He looked over at me.

"When can I see them?" I asked.

"I don't know," he replied. "We have to get my father's permission." I looked away. He was far too close to me, considering how angry I'd been at him for the last week. But I didn't hate it.

Stop it! I snapped at myself. You can't be thinking things like this! I took a deep breath.

"Charles," I said, "I'm hungry. Let's go inside and get a snack." He nodded.

"All right." We stood and started walking to the house. When we got there, I ducked into my room while he went to ask the cooks to make a light snack. I looked at myself in the mirror.

My hair was a little too curly, so I ran a brush through it. I smoothed my dress, looking at it. It was so plain. I glanced at the closet.

A few minutes later, I walked out of my room in a floaty sky blue dress with an imperial waist and gems set into the top. I found Charles in the dining room, eating a small teacake. He looked up and froze. His eyes were sparkling.

"I like that so much more than black or grey," he said. I smiled. "Teacake?" I took one and sat down. He sat across from me. "So tell me something. Can you play anything you want?"

"As long as I know what it sounds like," I replied. He raised his eyebrows.

"That's amazing."

"Now you tell me something," I said. "At the gala, the orchestra musicians were all chained to their instruments. Why?" He looked down at his half-eaten cake.

"Because some nobles think their musicians are slaves, and therefore slaves need to be chained. I disagree so strongly. They're the same people as us, just not rich. They have the same fathers as us, they just have found music instead of riches. It made me furious too." I turned my face to the window. I saw him look at me intently, and I looked at him again.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" I asked.

"Do you not want me to?" he asked.

"I don't care, I was just wondering," I replied.

"Oh." I waited for him to explain himself, but he didn't. I looked over at him as the doors opened and the butler came in with our snack. Charles took the tray with a smile and offered me a small sandwich, and as I took it, I thought. As much as I wanted to go home, my heart was betraying me to Charles, and my homesickness was fading. I hated his father, and sometimes I hated him, but as a whole I loved him. I watched him as he ate his sandwiches and fruit, and I couldn't help but love him. I mentally kicked myself. Why was I doing this to myself? He was untouchable.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" he asked, mimicking me with a smile. I rolled my eyes-- flirtatiously?-- and looked away, pink touching my cheeks. I was an idiot.

"So, about last night," Charles said as he swallowed. I looked at him. He wasn't nearly as erect and sophisticated at home as he was in public. His shirt was unbuttoned a few buttons, his coat was crumpled on the floor, and his hair was sloppily pulled up.

"What about last night?" I asked.

"You said there was a man outside with a gun?" I nodded. "And he shot through the window." I nodded again.

"I think there's someone out for your blood," I announced boldly. He stopped chewing for a moment, then swallowed. He frowned, a frown that had fear twisted into it. He looked up, and I wanted to put my arms around him and hold him to wipe the unmistakeable fear in the deep green.

"What? My blood? You think someone wants to kill me, then?" I shrugged.

"I don't know." He looked down at his sandwich, twisting it in his hands. "Charles? How old are you?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Twenty-one. My birthday's in February."

"Oh," I said, surprised.

"Why? How old are you?"

"Twenty-one. But my birthday's in August." I smiled. "I'm older than you." He gave me a look.

"You're older than me?" I nodded.

"By six months." He smiled that half smile and looked down at his sandwich, which made the smile slowly vanish. "Are you all right?" I asked.

"Just lost my appetite," he murmured. I didn't reply as he put it down, brow furrowed again.

"What do you want to do now?" I asked.

"Um... I kind of want to read for a while," he said slowly. I stood up.

"Well, then, come on," I said, holding out my hand. He took it slowly. I helped him up, and we walked to the library in silence.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •