Gerard sighs. “First of all, it wasn’t intentional. Second of all, you’re the one who came running at me. If anything, you ended up knocking yourself out.”

“Not an ounce of shame in you, huh?” Damien’s expression is tired; like he’s heard this explanation one too many times.

“Shame is only for the guilty; which I am not.” Gerard shoots him a pointed look. Damien rolls his eyes skywards.

He kicks Gerard’s stool, nudging it in Aster’s direction. “Guilty or not asshat, you’re still the one who held the plank that knocked her out. The least you can do is cough out an apology.”

Gerard shoots him a withering look, before his eyes drift over towards Aster. His expression schools itself into something more neutral, albeit still unwilling. “I apologise for knocking you out,” he says stiffly. “Even if it was mostly your own fault,” he ends up muttering.

“Gerry.”

“What, it’s true.”

Despite herself, Aster can’t really find it in herself to dislike the guy. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t really know anything about Gerard, other than the fact that he’s a real good liar and petty to boot. Which aren’t very good traits, she’ll admit. Still, there’s just something about the guy.

Maybe it’s the way that everything that comes out of his mouth seems to incense Damien to no end. It’s amusing to watch, given how Damien doesn’t even bother to hide his frustration despite him long mastering the art of the poker face. It makes him look like a child.

Aster likes it; it reminds her of the old days.

“Whatever the case,” Damien says, addressing Aster once more. “Even if Gerry’s being an ass about it, he does have a point. Sort of.” It looks like it pains him to admit as much. He soldiers on. “Aster, can you tell me what were you doing in the gardens? Weren’t you supposed to be sitting for tea with the queen?”

“I…” Aster doesn’t know where she should look. She settles for some point on the mattress between her and Damien. “Well. You know how I was late, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I was late, and then I panicked, and then I remembered what Fina told me, about the maze helping people if they had places to be.” Aster’s hand drops from her head, her hands bunching themselves into her skirts, ice and all. “So… I went in.”

“Into the maze?”

Aster nods.

“Then what happened?”

“And then…”

Florian. Rose. The maze’s spirit.

Florian smiling, in a way she’d never seen him. So, so, bright.

The way that smile had disappeared, giving way to balled fists and sleeve dampened tears.

The reek of roses. The glint of thorn sharp teeth.

That high, mocking voice.

“Aster? What happened then?” Damien’s voice is soft yet firm, edged with concern.

Aster can’t bring herself to look at him.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Aster?”

She does anyway.

Damien’s face fills with alarm. “Aster?!”

It takes her a moment to realise that she’s crying.

The tears trickle down her face slowly, warm on her cheeks. Aster swipes at them hurriedly. “No, its-“ she sniffles pathetically. “It’s nothing. Really, nothing happened.”

“That doesn’t look like nothing.” Damien’s frowning, but there’s no admonishment in his gaze; only worry. It makes something within Aster fissure, her tears growing heavier in response.

Damien’s hands are gentle on her face, careful as they wipe away her tears. “Definitely not nothing,” he murmurs.

Aster sniffs. Points again in Gerry’s direction. “I thought we were supposed to act like we didn’t know each other in front of other people.”

“What, so I’m supposed to act like I don’t care that you’re leaking tears in front of me right out of the blue?”

Aster shrugs petulantly. She feels like a child.

Damien pinches her cheek lightly. “Don’t worry, Gerry won’t tell. I have too much dirt on him.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Goes both ways, asshole.”

“Shut it, convict. I ought to hand you over to Her Majesty right now.”

“Like you would eve-“

“My lady!”

Now it’s Damien’s turn to get shoved aside as Seraphina barrels into the room, dropping to her knees to kneel by the bed. “Oh, thank Hale you’re alright!” Her eyebrows draw together as she survey’s Aster’s face. “My lady, have you been… crying?”

Aster draws her sleeve across her face. “Oh, it’s really nothing, please don’t worry, Fina.”

Inexplicably, Seraphina turns to shoot Gerard a murderous glance.

“Gerard Bates, what did you do?”

“What did I do?” Gerard looks appropriately offended. “Why are you assuming that I’m the reason she’s crying?”

“How could I not when you’re the one who assaulted my lady!”

Gerard shoots Damien a dirty look.

Damien shrugs innocently back. “She deserved to know the whole truth. Anything less wouldn’t have convinced her.”

“Yeah, but did ya tell her it was an accident?”

“An… accident?” Disbelief drips from Seraphina’s voice “An accident?” She repeats, incredulous. “You knocked my lady unconscious and dare to wave it off as an accident?”

Aster’s never seen her so furious. The sight is as touching as it is terrifying.

Somehow, Gerard manages to remain unfazed. “Look, Fina-“

“I told you not to call me that.”

Gerard frowns. “Oh, so she gets to but I don’t?”

Briefly, Aster wonders if this is what it’s like to watch someone dig their own grave.

When Seraphina speaks next, it sounds like it’s taking all her effort not to sock Gerard right across the face. “You are the most shameless, insufferable man I have ever known,” she seethes.

Gerard smiles wanly. “And you, remain the loveliest woman I have ever met.” Despite the dry tone of his voice, there’s something about it that keeps him from sounding overtly cynical. More teasing, rather than snarky.

It’s bizarre enough for Aster to raise an eyebrow Damien’s way.

Damien gives a slight shake of his head, mouthing a small, later, at her.

Meanwhile, Seraphina is silent. The look she gives Gerard is long and inscrutable.

Finally, she turns back towards Aster, features stone set.

“My lady,” she says carefully. “Please forgive me for this, but if I remain in the same room as the man for even a second longer, I fear that I may do something I will come to regret.”

“Oh. Uh.” Aster looks between Seraphina and Gerard, unsure of what to do.

Damien, always two steps ahead and more adept at reading the room, rises to his feet. “Come on, Gerry. Aster owes Miss Seraphina an explanation. The least we can do is give them some space.”

Gerard looks at him flatly, unimpressed.

Still, he gets to his feet. “Fine,” he says succinctly, without so much as a retort. He leaves the room, Damien following behind a few paces.

Damien glances back as he closes the door behind them, just in time to catch the grateful look that Aster throws his way.

He winks back at her in return.

The door clicks shut.

With Gerard gone, Seraphina seems to untense, a semblance of her usual composed demeanour returning.

It makes Aster wonder. About the history the two of them shared, and why exactly Gerard was able to throw the likes of Seraphina out of sorts, with just his mere presence.

The windchimes over their head continue to tinkle merrily away, their melody filling up the silence.

A sudden whiff of something putrid makes Aster wrinkle her nose.

Oh, it's still here.

Damien's comfrey concoction sits innocuously in its bowl, perched on the edge of the bed.

Darn it. She should’ve made Damien take it with him.

Aster sets the bowl of comfrey on the floor, with all the care of an expert handling a volatile explosive. Then, she nudges it away with the tip of her foot, pushing it as far away as possible from her. Deeming it far away enough, she turns back towards Seraphina, ignoring the mildly amused way her maid is looking at her.

Aster pats the empty space on the bed beside her invitingly. “According to Damien," she says. "It seems like I owe you an explanation for something? Whatever that means.”