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Chapter XIII - Roses are Red, Thorns are Green

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Sir Claudius slumped in the chair, his palm open and his fingers round so as to hold a teacup. But he grasped only air. His mouth hung open as if to drink from the cup. But all he drank was air.

The teacup faced down on the carpet beneath the table.

The Grandfather Clock struck 10 a.m., billowing throughout the castle on waves of air. Seconds ticked away inside of him—each beat of his heart equaled one, and the opening and closing of his lung flaps equaled two.

Many years before, in the cave of his ancestors, Sir Claudius's family told him of "overburn". Too much fire in a forest, all at once. It took years for the forest to replenish itself, which was not the goal of their clan. Trees fell down, leaves and seeds extinguished, and the blue sky remained lost above the hanging mists. No flora or fauna could survive in such wreckage, which was why their clan planned fires on days when the rain came.

No rain came for Sir Claudius on that electrifying blue morning, wherein hawk eyes flashed and hawk talons shocked their prey—immobile, not able to shriek in the midst of storms caused by heat, without sprinkles of rain and soothing, sheltering clouds.

For years, he never once had rain. No rain had ever slapped the stone hanging above his castle. No rain ever trickled down the sides, seeping in through windows and traveling along the panes and scooting in between the cracks. It never reached him, never calmed his burning heart, full of stories and affection and ferocity.

But this time his fire became too great. It consumed his body, mind, and soul, singeing his clothes and snipping at his locks of hair. Too many days and nights he thought of Athena and thought of a rose at the same time. Framed so delicately and yet so boldly-colored. He thought of her soft words, petals falling from her pink lips and into his palm, and then her harsh words, thorns pricking his glove as he tried to pick her. Sometimes she was a serene riverbed with moss dangling below its bank, or a morning dewdrop on a rose, or a kitten lapping its tongue over a brook. Other times she was a whip of thorns, piercing his skin. But whether wet roses or whips, Sir Claudius remained thirsty. Too thirsty.

"That woman… She couldn't have been more right."

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After thirty more minutes of watching the air move, Sir Claudius arose. 10:30 a.m. He slid up the winding stairs, leading to his Master bedroom, when, glancing out of the indentation in stone—a slight window—his eyes caught movement. A young woman was out in his gardens.

"Athena…"

The man rushed down the stairs, almost tripping on the final one, and flew all the way to the main entry doors. He yanked them apart, and the sun tore into his eyes. One hand went up, then the other, a shadow falling over his alabaster skin. He then slid his dark hood over his head. One foot in front of the other. He had not heard the sound of his feet shifting over pebbles in so long….

"Miss Everleigh!" Sir Claudius called, echoing over the small hill and spreading out into the gardens.

"I'm over here, Sir!" she replied. He followed her sound.

"Miss Everleigh, I did not ask you to tend to my gardens," he spoke, his eyes trailing over her tools and the fallen flowers she had snipped. Everything was covered in white, like fresh snow—reflecting the glinting sun.

"I know, Sir. But, you did not answer the door at 9 when I arrived… and they were locked. I did not know what else to do, so I went to that small barn over there, took hold of the tools, and began weeding."

"Oh…" His eyes moved to the tips of his black boots, white now. "I apologize, Miss Everleigh. Please continue with your gardening." He turned, dragging his feet back to the main entrance.

"Wait!" Athena shouted, gripping the shovel in her hand, rising. "Come back." She then sat down in the same spot. The bottom of her pale pink dress—the color of the first rays of dawn—spread out across the pebbles like water, covering each crevice and crack.

Sir Claudius frowned, yanking the top of his hood over his eyes. He trodded on over.

"Sir, I must confess something," she spoke as he arrived.

The man almost began to run at the words but stopped in his tracks instead. "Co—confess?"
"Yes."

"Confess what?"

"I—I haven't been entirely honest with you."

His head fell away from her figure.

"I have greatly enjoyed working here. It has been wonderful for my family, as I have been able to provide plenty of meals. We are starving no longer."

Gold is the only reason you enjoyed working here? Nothing more?

"But, I… am afraid."

"Afraid? What on earth have you to be afraid of?!" His voice rose.

"I'm sorry, Sir Claudius," she whispered, tilling the ground.

"Is this about your mother? Did your mother…" He trailed off, then began walking backward, unknowingly retracing his steps.

"Did my mother… what?" Athena batted her eyes, like a young bird attempting to escape from a cage.

Sir Claudius tightened the cloak about his shoulders, then stared the young girl down. "Did your mother find out about your being here?"

"No, Sir… Not yet."

He sighed, hot breath mixing with the steam of the skies.

"But… I am afraid that she will find out. And more than that—that other people will find out."

"Miss Everleigh, I am in contact with no one else except you. You are the first person I've talked to face-to-face in over twenty years."

"Sir Claudius—I am not meaning to be disrespectful in any way—but I have known you for hardly a month now. I do not know if I can trust you just yet. These are the thoughts that have been whirling through my brain for the last day or two! No one else knows I am a púca, save for you and my mother! I'm not so much worried about my abilities being taken away by the benevolent púcaí now as I am the villagers finding out that I have powers."

Sir Claudius lowered his head again, breathing flame, in-and-out.

"On top of that, I only just learned that you are a dragon! Now I must keep your secret, too! And frankly, I'm losing the capacity for the number of secrets that flutter about in my head all day!" She dropped the shovel and crossed her arms. "I am not angry, Sir Claudius, just—upset… I told you several days ago I was ill with pretending! Ill with secrets and lies! I want to be through with it all, but I can't now. Not with the knowledge that you are a dragon and I am a púca…" Tears welled up in her eyes, like the tide rising at noon and midnight.

"Miss Everleigh, I am sincerely sorry… I did not know that you had such conflicting feelings about working here."

"It wasn't evident all along? I said I hated to pretend, and yet I was pretending the entire time!"

"Are you pretending now?"

She wiped a tear away and sniffled. "I'm not sure anymore. I feel as though I've forgotten who I really am. Or if I ever was anyone at all."

"I feel the same way sometimes…" He knelt on the ground, stooping to her height.

"You?! Oh, stop that blabber!" She wiped her nose on her sleeve, turning her cheek to him.

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Everleigh?" he asked. "I have lived in isolation for longer than you have been alive… What did you expect?"

"But how can you?" She shook her head, eyes wide and watery. "You write so beautifully, translate so wonderfully! You have such a marvelous mind that I only wish I could have… I've read all of your book—"

"Since yesterday?"

"Oh, I couldn't put it down, Sir Claudius! I stayed up all night, reading." She blushed, primping her skirts. Trains of golden honey fell into her freckled face.

"You are a radiant reader then!" He lifted one of his gloved hands, gesturing to her forehead.

"Oh, hush!" She pushed his arm down and pursed her lips, dimples seeping into her fair skin.

He chuckled. They then both grew silent. The wind rustled throughout the bushes. Athena's hair flowed with the wind, sticking to the rose bushes every now and then. Sir Claudius would pull them out and they would smile at one another for a moment before sifting their fingers through the ground pebbles. Sir Claudius's locks weighed far too much to flow in the wind, and instead stuck to the back of his cloak. Athena had never seen him bathed in such sunlight before, and his face reminded her of planks of wood, one laid right after another. So tall and lean and arched were his cheekbones—set deep, yet appearing high. The scar across his eye begged for her attention, but she evaded it.

"Athena?"

"Yes, Sir Claudius?"

"Don't you think the roses are lovely?"

"I do, but not for the reason you think they are lovely."

"And for what reason do you think they are lovely?"

"I think roses are lovely not because they are delicate and beautiful, but because they are red."

"Red?"

"Red is my favorite color, alongside deep greens—the deep green of thorns."

He sat, astonished, his eyes falling from hers. "I thought that… blue and pink were your favorite colors? Or silver, even! You wear them all the time."

"No, blue and pink are my mother's favorite colors. She wants them to be mine, too."

"Oh… Why red and green then?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I'll find out one day. Maybe it will be the same day that I realize why I keep coming back here each week, even though it's dangerous."

"I thought it was for the gold."

"It is… but, that is not the only reason. I'm just not sure what the reason is yet."

"Well, when you find out, I'd love it if you would let me know." He grinned.

She looked back at him, and the roses of her cheeks blossomed. "Of course, Sir."