Nothing had ever felt so good – not the false peace of being under the curse – as the simple feeling of her hands in his hair. Tenderness, he could call it; Philip could not remember ever experiencing tenderness, not during the curse, and not before. He and his siblings may as well have been hewn out of rock like the castle in which they had grown up. He felt it more here than anywhere. He wished he could burn it to the ground.
Alexandra’s hands were warm. He looked at her as she spoke, letting the numbness ebb away from him. His throat felt dry, although he hadn’t spoken; he swallowed and it didn’t help. There was – no way he was going to be able to satisfy her with an explanation. He didn’t know if he could properly put it into words. He had told her enough this way, hadn’t he? She understood. He felt as though she understood, because her last sentence felt like an oath. He nodded at her, and put his hand briefly to the side of her face in turn, fingers grazing from her hair to her chin.
He wanted to say – thank you or I think I could love you or something honest to her – but he felt too exhausted of vulnerability already. Instead, he rasped: “I can’t trust – any of them.” His father might be the devil, but he didn’t trust any of his siblings or their spouses not to sell him out to save themselves. But Alexandra was different. She had to be.
They would go down for dinner, and take it from there.
Alexandra’s hands were warm. He looked at her as she spoke, letting the numbness ebb away from him. His throat felt dry, although he hadn’t spoken; he swallowed and it didn’t help. There was – no way he was going to be able to satisfy her with an explanation. He didn’t know if he could properly put it into words. He had told her enough this way, hadn’t he? She understood. He felt as though she understood, because her last sentence felt like an oath. He nodded at her, and put his hand briefly to the side of her face in turn, fingers grazing from her hair to her chin.
He wanted to say – thank you or I think I could love you or something honest to her – but he felt too exhausted of vulnerability already. Instead, he rasped: “I can’t trust – any of them.” His father might be the devil, but he didn’t trust any of his siblings or their spouses not to sell him out to save themselves. But Alexandra was different. She had to be.
They would go down for dinner, and take it from there.
