“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t let go, stares at me so intensely I swallow heavy, and something starts to pool in my belly.
Jamison breathes heavily through his nose. “Did he do this?”
“No,” I say as Rune trills away unhelpfully.
Jamison looks over at her, and I feel relieved that he doesn’t speak Stj?r too well.
“Who did this?”
I shake my head at him like he’s being silly. “It’s a long story.”
He spins me around to face Itheelia, his hands still on me. “Mum, fix it,” he tells her.*
“Darling.” She rolls her eyes. “Jammie, it’s a scratch.”
“It needs a stitch,” he says, impatient now.
“I don’t want a stitch in my face!” I look back at him.
“It’s deep, Daph,” he says, voice serious. “Ye sleep in a fucking tree. It could get infected.” Then he looks back at his mother, face all serious. “Make it, Mum, now.”
Itheelia walks over to her son, unbothered by how demanding? he’s being. She lifts an eyebrow. “I will make it if you drink a tea.”
He rolls his eyes and waves his hands impatiently. “Nosy witch,” he says under his breath.
“I heard that,” his mother calls back to him.
“Said it so ye would,” he tells her before he gives me a look, moving me away from his mum and Rune. His face goes back to serious. “Bo, why d?dnae ye come to me?”
Itheelia walks over with the tea, hands it to Jamison, and then just stands there, smiling pleasantly.
He gives her a curt look that makes me feel like he’s either brave or stupid? to be so capricious towards her. “You d?nnae need to stand here while I drink it. I said to ye I will.”
Itheelia rolls her eyes. “This is my house, you know,” she tells him as she retreats.
He stares at me, tongue pressed into his cheek, mostly annoyed （but with the smallest hint of amusement present as well） as he waits for her to move out of earshot.
He lifts his eyebrow, waiting for me to answer.
“Jem,” I sigh. “I—I don’t—”
I stare up at him. I don’t know when his hand made its way to my waist, but it has and he’s holding it.
I sigh. Why didn’t I go to him? I don’t know. Because I didn’t want to go to Jamison’s boat and find him with Morrigan on the table again and have him see it crush me on my face in front of him? I didn’t want any kind of confirmation that Hook is exactly who I worry he might be, that he’s not as good as I think he is, as I so desperately want him to be.* Because I already don’t really know what I am to one boy, except something between nothing and everything depending on the day, the hour, and the moment. I don’t want to be that to Jamison too. And I can’t actually figure out what I am to him.
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, so I just wave my hands between us once vaguely with a confused look on my face.
Jamison shakes his head, looking genuinely annoyed.
“How?” he asks, sounding a bit desperate.
Then Itheelia pops up beside us again, an impatient smile on her face.
Her son swears under his breath and rolls his eyes. He swigs the tea back in one gulp and thrusts her the teacup.
“Thank you.” She gives him a tight smile and then watches him for a moment afterwards with pinched eyes. “Did that burn your esophagus on the way down?”
“Aye.” He nods once, wincing a little, and our eyes catch.
I sniff a laugh, and so does he.
He turns to his mother, the moment before now broken.
“What dae they say?”
She holds it to her chest. “Oh, now you want to know?”
Jem gives her a look. “They’re mine.”
“No longer,” she tells him politely （but she does flash the leaves to Rune）。
Jamison throws me the kind of look a boy who loves his mother but is annoyed at her might make, and it makes me smile at him, but he just frowns at me, runs his finger over the cut on my cheek.
“Sure, who would do that to a face like this?”
All of me goes soft, and my eyes go heavy as I stare up at him.
“Ahem.” Itheelia clears her throat, and we both snap our heads over at her, like we’ve been caught in a moment. She’s holding a little mortar and pestle that’s full of a crushed-up lilac paste. She scoops some up on her finger and eyes me. “This will sting for a moment, and then it’ll be gone.”