Thistle by Cathy Greco

Author:Cathy Greco [Greco, Cathy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rose and Pestle Publishing
Published: 2022-09-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Ildray stepped into the garden. His coat, a rich claret velvet, hung over his shoulders and covered most of his wings, with only the bottom edges peeking out. Sunlight bounced off the shards of metal in them, reflecting back with a luminous glint. As he passed by the attendants dipped their heads in acknowledgment.

Ignoring them, he walked towards a section far from where Thatch and Thistle were strolling. Standing stiff and unyielding as an ancient oak, he turned to face the hedges, with his back to the garden and his arms hanging stiffly at his sides. The hedge was high enough to fill Ildray’s entire view, but he stared straight ahead, not even bothering to tilt his head to see the sky above him.

As he stared at the leafy green wall in front of him, his gaze unfocused, Thatch leaned towards Thistle, pitching his voice low enough it wouldn’t carry. “He looks awful. It’s like he’s not aware of anything around him.” Thatch’s face paled. “You don’t think the explosion affected him that much, do you?”

Thistle’s eyes widened, and she shook her head in denial. “It can’t be.” He’d seemed alright when he was talking to Filwen… surely he couldn’t have regressed so quickly. “He probably just wants to be alone.”

“I don’t know,” Thatch said. “I think we should go talk to him. Maybe there’s something we can do.”

Or maybe they would make it worse. He may not have told the Council what Thistle did, but that didn’t mean he’d want to be near her.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea. We should just let him be…”

Beside her, Thatch stiffened, sending her a disappointed look. “Thistle… I know you don’t like him, but don’t you think after everything that’s happened that you could give him a break? He’s suffered too, you know.”

Thistle’s cheeks heated in embarrassment. “I know.”

“Then why are you so determined not to help him? It’s not like you at all.”

“You don’t understand…”

“Then tell me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to help,” she said, her wings drooping to hang listlessly behind her back. “But after the way I treated him, I’m the last person he’d want to see.”

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. Yeah you weren’t exactly nice to him, but he wasn’t any better. Just go talk to him.” Thatch gave her a gentle push, edging her towards the aristocrat. “It might make both of you feel better.”

Thistle doubted it, but she didn’t have the heart to disappoint Thatch. Her stomach churning with nausea, she approached Ildray.

Up close, she could see the profile of his face. His mouth was a tight grimace, his lips compressed in thin lines, and deep wrinkles furrowed the little she could see of his forehead. “Ildray?” It came out as little more than a whisper.

He didn’t turn to face her. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Quite well.” His voice was cold and distant, as if it was drifting across an icy lake. “If

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