“You knew Elena? Tristan told me what happened to her.”
There was no warmth in his laugh. “Tristan remembers Elena with the love of a brother and to him, she was spoiled and spirited, but good at heart. I remember her differently. Even at sixteen, Elena was a manipulative little thing, always scheming and trying to wrap every male she knew around her finger. Fortunately, her wiles did not work on me.”
“Why not?”
“She wasn’t my type.” He wore his usual smirk when he picked up his wine glass. I sensed there was a story behind that statement, but he wasn’t going to share it. I tried to imagine what he was like before he was attacked by the Hale witch. With his good looks and the charm I saw glimpses of, he must have been quite the ladies’ man.
“Have you ever been in love?” As soon as the question left my lips I wanted to take it back. He had suffered so much, and the last thing I wanted to do was remind him of a past love. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have asked you that.”
He set his wine glass on the table and stared at it like he was seeing into his past. “I was in love once or twice, or I thought I was. It was so long ago that I really can’t say anymore. What about you? Have you been in love?”
“No. I had a crush on a boy once but nothing happened. And there was a guy I liked a few months ago but . . . ”
“He did not return your affection?”
I toyed with my fork. “We had one date – if you could call it that – and he wanted to go out again, but I’d just found out what I was and I didn’t think it was right to start a relationship with a human.”
Desmund nodded in understanding and thankfully did not push the subject. He laid his utensils across his plate. “I am sorry that I forgot to ask for a dessert. I don’t usually eat them myself.”
“That’s okay. I probably couldn’t eat much more anyway.” I pushed back my chair and stood. “Why don’t we have that rematch instead?”
A familiar gleam entered his eyes. “With pleasure.”
We walked over to the small table by the window, and I found a game already set up on the board I had left for him the last time I was here. We sat across from each other, neither of us saying anything about the new board or the fate of the old one. There was a lot I still didn’t know about Desmund’s illness, and it was possible that he did not remember thrashing the library. He was doing so well tonight, and the last thing I wanted to do was upset him by bringing up something so unpleasant.
Two games later, three things were very clear to me. The first was that I would never defeat Desmund in checkers. The second was that the more I got to know him, the happier I was to have him as a friend. The third was that his health had not improved as much as I’d thought. After several hours together, he began to show signs of strain: his eyes grew overly bright, and though he kept smiling, he could not hide the tremble in his hands when he reached for his checkers. I realized what an effort it must be for him to hide his constant pain and inner turmoil for so long. He chose to stay up here, shut off from almost everyone else, not because he did not like people, but because it was too hard to conceal his condition. He was a proud man who had once been a great warrior, and it must be agony for him to endure this weakness of his mind and body.
I had no way to know if my healing had done him any good, but I wanted to try it again. The problem was that I couldn’t just reach over and take his hand or touch his arm without giving him the wrong idea. All I needed was for Desmund to think I was hitting on him. Talk about the last person who should be getting mixed signals.
“Another match?”
“Actually, I’d love to hear you play the piano again – if you want to, that is.” He’d gotten so wrapped up in his music the last time that I’d been able to do a healing without his being any the wiser. Maybe I could do it again.
Some of the weariness left his face. “What would you like to hear?”
“Surprise me.”
He stood and held out his arm. I took it, and we went down the hall to the music room. We sat together on the bench, and Desmund began to play a darker piece full of dramatic sweeps that seemed to echo his emotional state. It wasn’t anything I’d heard before and I found it a bit depressing, but he lost himself in the music, which made it possible for me to do my thing.
This time when I opened myself to the Hale witch’s magic, I was ready for the cold blast of nausea that hit me. Gritting my teeth, I braced myself and drew the dark magic into me until sweat trickled down my back and I was fighting the shivers that tried to wrack my body. When I could take no more, I discreetly pulled away and let my power burn away the witch’s magic.