Chomp

Over the next week, I was able to actually account for all of the injuries.

This was, in part, due to the fact that I still had to take enough painkillers to probably paralyze a bull elephant during mating season. Apparently, I had broken my leg, all fingers—on each hand, so all the better—and partially realigned my spine.

Whatever meds they were giving me were working magic, though, because half the time I couldn’t feel a thing. They had adjusted all of the displaced bones so that I could heal and not look severely deformed, but I was still impatient. I could only do so many crosswords and word-searches before I went insane.

Thankfully, Adrian popped by every day to check in on me. The second day he had done so, he had come in looking a little embarrassed. When I had asked him what was wrong, he shamefully held out two full bags of creampuffs.

“One for yesterday, because I forgot, and one for today,” he explained shyly. When I told him to pass my wallet so I could pay for them, he refused.

One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was probably forty pounds heavier than when I was admitted to the hospital. His delivery changed every day; I think he could tell that creampuffs were starting to lose their oomph, so he had started bringing a few other treats as well.

He explained that he and his daughter had been looking for an additional item to hold in the front glass case where all the desserts were kept on display. Who better than to test new ideas than a girl who loved pastries? Even if I did suspect the excuse wasn’t real, I certainly wasn’t going to argue if I had a man bringing me Oreo cheesecake bites, chocolate raspberry éclairs, and mini key lime pie tartlets.

“You do realize you’re going to make me fat,” I pointed out lazily before biting into something he told me was called a Nanaimo bar. It consisted of a top layer of milk chocolate, some sort of custard-like icing, and then a floury crumble consisting of coconut and wafer. “Oh god, this. This one is it.”

“You’re sure this time?” Adrian asked, looking up from his notebook. The nerd even had a notebook dedicated to which desserts passed the Agnes-test. “You can’t just pick twelve, you know.”

I rolled my eyes. “This time, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Now; with the coconut, or the peanut butter?” he asked, jotting some notes down onto the page.

There was a long silence between the two of us in which the only sound was his pen dashing this way and that. Finally, he looked up at me, a little concerned. “Agnes?”

“You never told me there was one with peanut butter. How the hell am I supposed to help with this if you make the choices so hard?” I sputter, utterly disappointed in myself. He burst out laughing. “My body has healed, but I swear to god, my heart can’t take this. Coconut or peanut butter? Really? Come on now!”

Adrian snickered again, grinning from ear to ear. “Sorry!” He said it, but he certainly didn’t sound it. “Although… While I’m happy to keep coming by with food, I think—”

“Don’t you dare. I’m confined to this bed, so don’t even go there.”

“Huh?”

I stared at him long and hard, taking in his wide, confused eyes. His expression looked as though he really was innocent of making a fat joke, but I still wasn’t a hundred percent convinced. “I’m supposed to have a dress fitting in about three weeks. I hope you realize the damage you’re causing here,” I explained playfully, crossing my arms.

As soon as I had said the words, they felt a little foreign in my mouth. Sure, I had had the appointment with probably the only gown maker left in the city for months, but the whole thing felt strange. A sour feeling rooted itself in the pit of my stomach, though I wasn’t sure why.

The slightest sense of curiosity crossed Adrian’s features before it returned to its usual content status. “Dress fitting... for a… wedding?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh. I… never knew you were engaged,” he admitted, glancing down at both my hands. “I suppose rings get in the way of work, don’t they? A-And I guess your fiancé probably has a job that dictates visiting hours.”

I shrugged awkwardly and looked away. Maybe that was what the feeling was for. How long had I been in this hospital bed, compared to how many times Darius visited me? It was an easy answer, but one I didn’t like.

“Yeah, he’s super busy,” I replied casually, waving a hand. “He’s also kind of a big deal in the Organization, so it’s tough for him to get away.” The words felt bitter in my mouth.

I hoped Adrian bought them more than I did.

The day I was finally released from the hospital came before Darius’ first visit. The nurse gave me some civilian clothes to change into before reviewing release documents. They were just a plain white t-shirt and some jeans, but it felt good to finally wear something other than a hospice gown that exposed my rear end to the world.

It was difficult to maneuver into tight jeans with a mending leg—and what seemed like a bigger butt and breasts than what I came in with—but I somehow managed. With the beauty of modern medicine, the cast would apparently only be required for another two weeks.

“It’s weird to see you looking like a normal human again,” Adrian commented as I hobbled out of the bathroom.

I rolled my eyes, tossing the hospice gown onto the bed. “Gee, thanks,” I replied sarcastically, turning to him. “Though I have to say, I missed jeans. And pockets. I mean, the only thing I would have kept in my pocket were a couple of Piroulines and churros—but still.”

“You’re all ready to go, Miss Randt,” the nurse interrupted, stepping between us as she handed me a few forms. “Please take these to the front desk on your way out; a young woman by the name of Gretchen might try to stop you and your fiancé from leaving if you don’t. Don’t want to be trapped here forever, you know!” She chuckled as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

“Oh, I’m not—” Adrian interjected awkwardly, shaking his head, but the nurse must not have heard him. Her short brown hair swished a bit when she turned on her heel and made her way down the corridor, no doubt onto bigger and better patients.

“That was rather assuming,” Adrian pointed out, staring after her. “Why would she…?” He trailed off with a sigh, shaking his head. “Anyway, where did you want to be dropped off?”

Home, of course. It was a stupid question; where else would I want to be after spending that much time in the hospital? Yet I hesitated.

“My apartment’s off Sixth Avenue,” I replied after a while. I was indeed there, but did I really want to be there right now? “But I think—”

“Agnes.”

I whipped around, the new voice startling me. Darius stood before me, his expression drawn in its usual reserved way. He hovered over both of us, and it wasn’t until a few seconds later that I realized he was clutching a large bouquet of flowers.

“Dariu—”

“She won’t be needing a taxi home, sir. I can handle it from here,” he interrupted lazily, nodding to Adrian.

Adrian opened his mouth to correct my fiancé, but shut it soon after, no doubt deciding better of it.

“See you, Agnes,” he answered instead. He might have mumbled something after that, but I didn’t pay enough attention to hear it.

Instead, I turned my head to Darius, forcing my mouth shut until I could figure out what to say so it didn’t come out like verbal diarrhea.

“It’s about damn time,” I finally blurted out, placing my hands on my hips. “Where the hell have you been? Clearly you remembered I was in the hospital, so why didn’t you—”

“As you pointed out,” he hijacked smoothly, “You were in a hospital. It’s the safest place for a person in your condition, along with the fact that it’s monitored. Had anything happened, I would have rushed down here immediately. You know that.”

He wasn’t wrong, per se.

Darius held the enormous bouquet out to me. It was a mixture of roses, chrysanthemums, peonies, and god knows what other flowers, and their collective smell was strong, letting me know they were freshly picked.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, still a little bitter.

He rolled his eyes. “If it’s any consolation to you, I pulled some strings and got your appointment bumped up at Ariadne’s.”

I blinked. “…You serious?”

A small smile crept onto his lips, and he nodded slowly. “Turns out, the owner has a son that dodged conscription. Imagine the agreement we were able to come to once I found out who Ariadne actually is.” He gestured to the door, and I followed the cue, walking out from the room.

“I mean, that’s basically blackmail,” I replied frankly, looking up at him as he walked beside me. “But I’m down for it, I guess. What’s a wedding without some good old fashioned blackmail, anyway?”

Darius stopped, mid-stride. “About that…”

“Miss Randt, I have a mermaid-style—”

I sighed as the attendant approached us, trying her best to smile. “No thanks,” I replied, barely glancing at the gown she had in her hands. The beading on it looked like it had come from a flea market. “Can you look for something a little more… simple? Doesn’t even have to be white.”

I stared after her lamely as she scurried away. It would have been her eighteenth time doing it, and it was starting to show in her wrinkled face.

“How ’bout these?” Roksana asked, flashing her large white teeth for the umpteenth time that day. I looked over, almost bored, as she held out diamond-drop earrings.

I had been looking forward to my bridal appointment for months, but the excitement had long since left. Roksana’s face fell when she saw the beautiful earrings didn’t even light a spark in me.

Hanging her head, she murmured, “I’ll go put them back…”

“No, it’s okay,” I fumbled, stepping away from the veils. “They’re really nice and all. My head’s just… not here today.”

She snickered her high pitched laugh. “Kinda important thing to forget,” she teased, looking up at me. My soon-to-be sister-in-law was only twelve, and therefore the only person in my life who still did look up at me, though I imagine that would only be a short-term thing.

“I guess so.”

“Is it because Dary’s not here?” she asked, tilting her head. “I know normally the brides have a bunch of friends come pick their stuff out with them. But you seem like the kinda girl who has her husband go with her.”

Normally, I would have debated whether or not that had been a compliment; pre-teens were so fickle. Instead, I shrugged it off.

“Not exactly. I’m more pissed that the only reason he decided to bump this appointment up was so that we could host a banquet for the Organization.”

I walked over to the few dresses that the attendant had picked out for me. The materials varied from a smooth satin to an itchy tulle, and none of the designs sparked anything in me.

“But I thought banquets were like weddings anyway. Dancing, drinks…?”

“It’s not the same,” I replied flatly, trying to keep the venom from my voice as much as possible. After all, it wasn’t her fault her brother was being a royal douche about things. “They’re meant to be separate, to have special significance for a reason. The fact is, Darius wants to rent the hall for the banquet and it was just easy to combine the two for convenience. Which isn’t even the worst part—he wants it to be a masquerade banquet. Who the hell attends a wedding with masks?”

The thought of having to wear a mask for a wedding ceremony had boiled my blood ever since the day Darius broke the news. It wouldn’t simply be a dress-down wedding—I could certainly handle that, especially because I had had low expectations of a wedding ever since I was a little girl. But there was a fine line between a casual wedding and people wearing chicken costumes.

“Miss Randt, we found a strapless, dusty-rose dress,” one of the attendants called out frantically, bustling into the area, holding a few other dresses.

Her perfectly smooth hair had started to frizz slightly, and part of it was falling out from the bun she had fixed behind her head. Her cheeks were flushed, no doubt from running in and out of the lines of stock, but the dress she held in her hands looked gorgeous.

Evidently, I wasn’t the easiest customer to please.

As she mentioned, it was strapless, but it also had a plunging, sweetheart neckline lined with white lace.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell the poor woman that I thought she might have picked a winner, but Roksana cut me off. “She can’t wear that one!” she exclaimed, staring at the attendant incredulously.

The woman groaned. “And just why not? It has everything she said she liked!”

“Her boobs are way too big for that!”

I’m not sure whose face went redder—mine, or the attendant who would probably hand in her resignation later that day.

The woman sped off once more, leaving Roksana to our own devices.

“Why would you even say that?” I whispered, mortified.

A bemused expression crossed her innocent face. “I thought it was a good thing to have boobs. Dary likes them—all boys do. I’m just not allowed to grow them ’til I’m married.”

I opened my mouth to explain but decided better. No point in arguing with that kind of logic, I supposed.

When we finally left Ariadne’s, it was after dropping more money on a dress than two month’s worth of rent on an apartment. Despite knowing the shop was fancy, I hadn’t realized the cost of decadence. Regardless, the dress I had was decent enough for both a wedding and a stupid masquerade banquet.

It wasn’t fluffed out like some sort of Disney princess gown, but it was still elegant; it was all a dusted rose lace silk lining with matching lace overtop that came around my neck in a supportive halter. My chest was covered only by the lace, which gave it a flirty yet formal feel.

I took it home in a black hanger-bag that I promptly stuck in my closet away from prying eyes. Not that Darius seemed remotely interested in ruining the surprise for me; he had that going, at least. After returning from our bedroom, I joined him in the kitchen. He was standing by the counter, hunched over what looked like a pile of reports with a scowl on his face.

“Hey,” I said, inching past him to get to the cupboard. I grabbed a glass and brought it over to the tap. The water came out cool, but I let it run to get it colder.

He looked over at me and dropped the scowl from his face. “Hey, you. Judging by the bag you rushed in here, the appointment was successful?”

I smiled softly and shrugged. “I guess so.”

“You don’t like the one you got?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow. “You can always book another appointment.”

“I don’t think Ariadne needs any more stress on her right now,” I said, dipping my head under the tap. I took a sip from the freezing stream, wetting my chin and some of my hair. Drips ran down my neck, cooling me, but I didn’t mind. “Besides, it’s not her fault. She carries wedding dresses only.”

Darius frowned and tucked the few wet strands of my short, wavy hair behind my ear. “You’re still sour about that?” he asked flatly, pushing my chin up gently with a finger so our eyes met.

“Well, it’s not ideal,” I answered. Frown lines creased his forehead. “But if you think it’s necessary…”

“It is.”

Darius pulled away and crossed his arms. The action pushed the muscles forward, making them seem more pronounced. He leaned back against the counter. “I can’t say much in the way of plans or why—you’re still on suspension—but the Organization asked for this. I’m not exactly in a position where I can say no.”

“You mean you’re not in a commanding role?” I shot, raising an eyebrow. Heat rose in my cheeks and I felt something tighten in my chest. “Really?”

He huffed. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he snapped, turning his back on me to head out of the kitchen. “I can hardly ask for a favour after what you did.”

There it was.

It felt like a slap to the face. Goosebumps ran up my freckled arms. “Sorry to be such a goddamn burden on you, Darius,” I started, throwing my hands in the air. “The next time I plan to have my ass kicked by some rogue vampire, a variant that doesn’t conform with—”

“It still only happened because you screwed up the first time. If you had your priorities set straight the first time, it wouldn’t have been an issue,” he stated curtly. His diplomatic tone begged for a punch to the face. “Now if you’ll excuse me, one of us still has work in the morning.”