Ninety Blooms & a Wishing Well by Inka York

Author:Inka York [York, Inka]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781915708281
Publisher: Inklore Books

13

Bram’s Book

Cecilia was sick.

Sweaty hair framed her pale face, a tiny orb among the plethora of cushions. She had not liked the reminder that animals carried diseases, and she had likely picked something up from her beloved pigeons. She complained that her uncle hadn’t let her pick up owl pellets at the zoo while Abaddon paced. The large man had sulked when Armando had dismissed his doctor and sent for Feltham.

Perfect bloody Feltham.

Armando fussed until Feltham arrived, and Bram wondered why he’d never bothered to ask if Feltham had a given name, or indeed ask Oliver if he had a surname.

Now he knew.

Oliver had a surname.

Bram fled from the room, complaining that he felt sick. If Oliver stayed here to look after Cecilia, he wouldn’t be able to avoid him. He had only just washed his face after vomiting yet again when there was a knock at his bedroom door.

Armando’s worried face appeared in the small gap. “Feltham wants to examine you.”

“No,” Bram blurted. “No, absolutely not.”

“That’s what I told him you’d say, but Abaddon insisted I ask you anyway. Are you sure you’re alright? He said he already checked to see if you have a fever.”

“I’m fine. I think I’m just nervous about Uriel’s plan going awry,” he admitted, even though it was only half true. “I would dearly love for all this to be over, so we can get on with our lives without fear.”

Armando smiled. “Feltham is most put out that you ran away at the sight of him.”

Bram smiled back. “Really? Why should that bother him?”

“He is like Uriel,” Armando told him. “Attracted to all sorts of people.”

“You mean… even men?”

“Precisely. And having you run from the room dented his ego.”

Bram laughed, feeling suddenly better. Perhaps it wasn’t as hopeless as he once thought. Perhaps Oliver might love him anyway. He sighed. Or perhaps Bram was kidding himself.

“Feltham left to make his preparation,” Armando said. “He is convinced Cecilia has contracted a waterborne disease, most likely while still in London, possibly from one of those bloody corpses. She admitted one touched her.”

“Oh dear.”

“Indeed. Come on. Marnie made breakfast.” Armando clapped his shoulder as Bram opened the door wider. “It’ll make you feel better.”

When Oliver finally returned, Bram couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved that the water jinn didn’t recognise him. Oliver spent many hours at Cecilia’s bedside, telling her all about the flowers he brought with him, not even sparing the child the horror stories of tragic, flowery love. Cecilia was so enamoured with him that she didn’t even complain when love didn’t conquer all.

On a few occasions, when others were there, Bram remained in the room to listen. After all, it would look extremely suspicious if he left every time Oliver arrived, or if he refused to be in a room with him. He found himself smiling fondly at Oliver’s tales, biting his lip so he didn’t join in, and sometimes, Oliver would offer him smiles so brilliant, they would put the sun in the shade.

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