Chapter Two
Water spilled over her body, making her sigh in momentary content. It seeped through her hair, infusing it with rosemary and ginger cloves, feeling silky on her bare back. Meggie wanted to slip into a persuasive slumber, just her surrounded by waves and candles, but guiltiness gnawed at her heart. Fenoglio was locked away while she enjoyed a bath. Her smooth leg gently rubbed against the other, and she couldn't help but revel. How good it felt to be clean again!
Her thoughts drifted toward Dustfinger. Why did he convince Capricorn to let her switch rooms? It couldn't possibly be a gesture of… well, she didn't want to say friendship. Maybe it was more of an apology. She hugged her knees to her chest, willing herself not to think about him. Whenever she did, she winded up exhausted and confused and much more hurt than she could stand.
She stepped from the basin, wrapping a towel around her dripping body. Meggie knew she shouldn't take it to heart. Dustfinger loved Inkheart, and he actually thought Capricorn would find a way to send him back. Still, her chest panged her as if it was personal, so very personal. That night at Eleanor's, under the cloak of darkness, he showed her how he played with fire. She could feel undertones of, well, she wasn't sure yet. All she knew was she had the sudden urge to play with fire, too… but in a different sort of way.
Then they came. In one swift move, her world turned upside-down.
"Before you change," the words were uttered from behind her, making Meggie's heart freeze, "you should know you have company."
Dustfinger stepped out of the shadow of the window, an anxious half-smile lit upon his lips. Gwin was nowhere to be seen.
A whirlwind of emotions swept through her, leaving her breathless. Her heart thudded in her chest, a mixture of anger and anticipation and God knows what else. All she could think was he was here. Her blood boiled.
"How long have you been here?" she asked immediately, glancing haphazardly at the locked door. Meggie suddenly became hyperaware that her hair was still wet and she was half-dressed.
She wanted to despise him. She wanted to hate him and hurt him the way he had hurt them. But he made her pulse race in a way she wanted to disregard, made her ache for things she hated herself for. Dustfinger was the reason she was in this mess. Dustfinger was the enemy.
"I've only just climbed up," he nodded towards the window, averting his eyes. "I would never…"
He didn't need to finish his sentence, as Meggie knew exactly what he was meant. To her horror, she could feel a blush crawl up her cheeks. After all the times she imagined this conversation, this was not how it was supposed to go. She stepped behind the dressing screen, heart pounding.
Dustfinger swore under his breath at his bad timing. He had embarrassed her. He knew she already hated him and this was just one more thing to add to the pile. He had hoped this would go better after last time. Her screams and curses danced in his mind of when she first found out he had betrayed her. To his surprise, they stung more than he had thought they would.
He cautiously handed her a dress from behind the screen, careful not to look. It would be a lie to say he didn't notice her. Meggie was beautiful, innocence at its purest. Her mother's face flashed in his thoughts, but didn't linger. There was something about the girl that was different. Silvertongue treated her like a child, but she was wise beyond her years. Even Capricorn had realized it. He swallowed the strange affection he had for her like he would his pride. This fondness was foreign and uncomfortable.
"You have no reason to trust me, Meggie," he began, running a tired hand though his hair. "I realize this. But we need to talk."
She stepped out from behind the divider, her white nightgown clinging to her skin. She said nothing and sat down on the end of her bed, too tired to argue. She had screamed and cried all she needed to.
"Your father wants me to deliver a message,"
"Mo," she breathed, relief pooling in her eyes. "But- but you're one of them. How did you- ?"
Dustfinger laughed quietly, shaking his head. "My allegiance lies only with Inkheart. I'd have left with Silvertongue, but understandably, Capricorn doesn't quite trust me at the moment, so Basta's kept a close watch on me." He sunk down next to her, "And anyhow, your father made me promise I'd stay and make sure you're safe."
"Your word means so much to him, does it?" her sentence dripped with sarcasm. Dustfinger ignored the slight pang that arose in his chest.
"No," he said at last, "but I'm afraid it's all he's got."
An unfamiliar urge to comfort the girl chewed at him. He carefully reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Easy there boy, he chided himself, wary not to cross any line. "Meggie, I'm the only friend you have right now. These men are dangerous. I don't know what else Capricorn is planning, but it'd be smart to stick together."
She jumped off the bed, torn between two extremes. "I don't need rescuing! I'm not a little girl. Is that all you see me as? A duty to my father, a debt to be paid?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Of course not."
"Then prove it! Show me I was more than a trade-off for your one-way ticket home." Meggie came close this time, closer than he had been to a woman in a long time. Her lips lingered near his, a tempting promise. His pulse quickened.
"That night in the garden," she whispered in hushed tones, eyes pleading with him, "I thought… I thought…"
He knew what she thought. So it hadn't been his imagination, then: the tension, the eye-contact, the feel of the still night air. He wanted so badly to close the gap between their lips, to give in.
Dustfinger pulled back, regret already sinking in. "You're tired, Meggie."
And with that, he left, disappearing into the night sky.