I nod once, then she smears it on me.
Now, I must say, “sting” was an understatement. My eyes go wide and Jamison grimaces, looking sorry for me like he knows it’s worse than she made it sound.
It’s skin cells regenerating on the spot—growing and creeping back towards one another to make my skin close again. It feels like a burn, this pulling, boring kind of pain, and Jem holds my gaze as I frown through it all.
After about a minute, it stops hurting, and Itheelia looks over at me rather indifferently. “It’s done.”
Jamison reaches over and wipes the paste off my face. “Perfect,” he says, watching me, and I swallow heavy.
I reach up and touch my cheek where the wound was before. “Oh my god.” I look over at Itheelia, wide-eyed. “That’s magic!”
“Literally, yes.” She nods, wiping her hands on her dress.
I stare over at Jem a bit dumbstruck, and he gives me a little wink.
“I think we are done here,” Itheelia announces, Rune sitting on her shoulder.
Jamison frowns. “But I just got here.”
His mother nods. “And now you will walk this girl back down the mountain.”
He tosses me an unimpressed look, but I give him a big, hopeful grin. I liked the walk up here by myself, but I will like it more with him. He rolls his eyes at me and moves towards the door.
“I love you,” his mother calls.
He gives her a long-suffering look. “Love you. Thanks for—” He gestures to his cheek and nods his head towards me.
“Yes.” I look over at her. “Really, thank you. And sorry for just dropping in.”
“Anytime.” She shakes her head. “Well, not anytime, but you know, within reason.”
I nod at her, pleased because I feel as though I’ve made a friend, and I don’t think I have that many here.
The first few minutes down the mountain are spent in silence, but I love silence with him. Our shoulders keep brushing against one another, and I become acutely aware of where my shoulder sits in correlation to his. His shoulder and my nose are about the same height. I like him from down here—I have such a prime view of the angle of his jaw, the way his facial hair shades him. He has a freckle on his neck that I think is calling my name, and I swallow heavy again.
“Jamison—”
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Yes?”
“Do you remember that I’m eighteen now?”
He stares straight ahead but smiles a little. It’s only for a second before it’s replaced with frustration.
“Daph, ye can come to me.” He looks over at me. “Always.”
I give him a nod because I don’t know what I am to him, and I don’t know whether I believe him.
“I like your mum,” I tell him to change the subject.
He looks down at me. “She likes you.”
I purse my lips. “Does she?”
Jamison laughs. “She’s a bit of a closed book, hard to read, but aye.” He nods a few times before he eyes me. “Are we going to talk about what happened?”
“No.” I look straight ahead.
“Wusnae a question, Daph.” He knocks me with his shoulder gently. “Tell me.”
I squint at a tree that’s nowhere near him. “I don’t think I should,” I say eventually.
He asks, a few paces behind me now, “Why no’？”
I take a breath before I turn to face him. “I don’t suspect it’ll thrill you.”
“Nor do I, but I want ye to tell me anyway.”
But it feels like an invitation to trouble, and it’s already been a big couple of days, so I shake my head. “No.”
Jem grabs my wrist and stands me still as he adjusts the clasp on the feather cloak Rune just made me.
His eyes hold mine, and the breeze all of a sudden blows so cold I huddle in towards him without thinking.
“Tell me,” he says, and neither of us notice the way the wind is moving around us.
I stare up at him a few seconds, frown as I think about saying it. I breathe out my nose. “He took me to the labyrinth.”
Jem eyes me. “No.”
I shrug like it’s not a big deal, but it is a big deal, I think. I don’t know why I’m acting like it’s not. “He wanted to play a game.”
He gives me a look. “No, he d?dnae.”
“With the minotaur,” I tell him matter-of-factly.
Jamison’s mouth twitches in an angry way.
“And then”—I clear my throat demurely—“he got distracted and left me.”