“Are you all right?” Thornwood asked.
Mouse turned her head enough to see him, unsurprised by his presence. They needed to talk, after all.
The purple skin around his eye was healing, shifting into sickly greens and yellows on his face. The ragged black of his scar cut from his eyebrow down his cheek. John’s coat swallowed him from neck to ankle. The gem on his finger sent out a steady pulse of green magic, but it was by no means the glinting jewel it had been during their wedding. Mouse wondered how long it would take for his full power to return to him. Or perhaps, she thought, he was trying to garner her sympathy by intentionally slowing his healing.
Frankly, if that was the case, it almost worked. He looked worse than she felt.
“I will live,” Mouse said. She sat up. Despite his warm tone, Thornwood lingered just outside the rose garden, shifting from foot to foot on the path. “Sit, will you? You are making me nervous.”
He quickly took a seat next to her on the bench. Slowly, he cradled a rose vine between his thumb and index finger. Centimeter by centimeter, a light pink rose blossomed in his hand. When it was fully grown, he plucked it from the bush.
“For you,” he said, holding out the flower to Mouse. She looked at it, then into Thornwood’s eyes.
“What will it cost me?” she asked.
He looked away. “It is a gift. Or part of an apology.”
Gingerly, Mouse took the rose from him. She felt him shudder as her hand brushed his.
“How is Theodora?” she asked.
Thornwood clearly did not expect her question, and he struggled for a moment before speaking. “She is well.”
“The new world isn’t overwhelming her?”
He shook his head, a slight smile playing over his lips. “No, she is made of stronger stuff.”
“That does not surprise me.”
“So, what are you going to do now?” Thornwood asked when the ensuing silence was too heavy for him.
“I suppose that is what I came here to decide,” Mouse said. She brushed the rose against her lips.
“Any conclusions so far?”
“In London, you asked me if I’d lost myself through adaptation.”
Thornwood grimaced. “Please, forget what I said in London. I—”
Mouse cut him off. “No, it was a fair question and deserved an answer.”
Thornwood stared at her, his head tilted.
“I did not lose myself, but only because I’ve never known who I am. Not really,” she said. “I know who my father, my mother, Bertie, and Lord Dewhurst were. I know who John is and who Roger is. I even know who you are, now that the enchantment is lifted.”
“Mouse—”
“It is time I learn who I am. I’m excited to live in the world and find out what I enjoy without a convoluted inheritance or a war pressing down on me. My heart is full of holes, and I need to focus on mending it.”
“I can understand that,” Thornwood said, his lips pressed into a strained smile.
“John offered to put me up for as long as I like, but I have caused him enough trouble.”
“He offered the same for my mother and me. Although I am fairlysure he still dislikes me,” Thornwood said. “But, the question remains, what will you do now?”
“I need to see how things are with Roger before I make any decisions.”
“Of course.”