The Heartwood Box: A Fairy Tale (3 page)

Several of the girls whispered their intention of avoiding Damian Black as much as they could
.
I
f they didn’t get to know him, they conjectured, there was no chance that their box would turn to his color
.

“Ooh,” Sally
hissed
, “there
he is, Damian Black himself.”

Everyone turned at once
.
He smirked when he noticed their stares, and the girls squealed and quickly turned away
.

Sally whispered in her ear, “Just look at those eyes of his
.
That is a man who knows how to get his own way, or I am much mistaken
.
He may be handsome, but you can bet he never forgets for a minute that he’s descended from the Black Prince.”

Genevieve couldn’t disagree
.
She looked at Sally more carefully
.
She’d forgotten how bright her old friend was
.
As a child she’d been a tiny spitfire of a girl who didn’t take nonsense from anyone
.
She
had
grown to be a very pretty woman, with pale blond hair and sharp hazel eyes, and so confident it was easy to forget she was barely over five feet tall
.

But unlike her friend, Genevieve felt a certain kinship with Damian Black and his brothers
.
They knew what it was like to be part of the town and yet feel themselves outsiders
.
The very thing she had feared so much had really happened to them, and yet everyone seemed to agree that they were ever am
ong the most devoted to Titania
and made great sacrifices
defending the demon gate
.
She couldn’t blame them for remembering their illustrious heritage
.
Declan was a great hero, and they seemed to be living up to his legacy
.
She resolved that she would not be one of the girls who avoided Damian Black
.

The topic soon changed, and Genevieve was able to sneak a better look at the mysterious son of the Black family
.
There was no difficulty picking him out
.
He was ta
ller and
more powerfully
built
than the others
and appeared older
—
she guessed he was at least twenty-five
.
He stood off to the side, away from the central group of boys who were joking and play
fighting each other
.
Genevieve agreed with Sally that he was handsome
—
very handsome
.
His inky black hair and almost black eyes made him seem fierce, but Genevieve saw plenty of good
humor in his expression
.
There was no missing the confident way he held himself, but
he wore an ordinary brown suit
and showed his color with a plain black scarf, hardly the dress of a man trying to make everyone aware of his superiority
.

Another
boy
approached him and asked after Damian’s family
.
Genevieve felt a moment of trepidation at the boy’s boldness but relaxed when she saw Damian smile and answer easily
.
She saw no contempt or impatience in his expression—nothing like cruelty in his face
.
But she didn’t deceive herself: he was nothing like the boys she’d grown up with
.
He looked like what he was, a fighter trained from his youth for war, the descendant of Declan
.
She must have looked t
oo long
because she realized with a start that he was looking back at her
.
He made a shallow bow, which made her face flame up.

Genevieve bit her lip uneasily, wondering if she could look a greater fool
.
Fortunately, the awkward moment was interrupted by the approach of the elderly priestess and her votary, along with various neighbors bringing picnic baskets
.

Sally was beaming, having exchanged a glance with Peter Crane
.
Genevieve couldn’t help laughing
.
She remembered Peter well: he had mercilessly tormented them when they were nine, loving nothing more than to pull a girl’s hair or put a spider down her back when the teacher wasn’t looking
.
The obnoxious skinny boy had grown into a very handsome man, with blond curly hair and dreamy blue eyes
.
He was an artist, a painter, and displayed his color with an outlandish blue satin scarf
.
He still had an infectious smile that even Genevieve couldn’t resist
.

Genevieve
wink
ed
at
Sally, who clapped her hands joyfully
.
Both of Sally’s parents were healers, their color green
.
Sally had trained as a midwife,
and her shawl was
pale green
with a vine pattern in darker green twining through it
.
Green and blue were harmonious shades, and she knew it would be considered a good pairing
.

Something in Genevieve relaxed, and all of a sudden the
Bridal Week
didn’t seem so terrifying
.
These were her people, her traditions
.
For the first time since her music changed, she could almost believe that she was on
e of Titania’s beloved children
just like all the others.

The priestess called to the boys to
each pick up a
basket
and attach it with their color
.
They all
started
together
towards
Titania’s Altar, which was in a grove
of rowan trees
about a
half-mile
from town
.
Away from the
village
green, the two groups dispersed
,
and boys and girls gradually fell to walking together
.
Sally grabbed Genevieve’s arm
and pulled her along to speak to one boy after another
—
except for Peter
Crane
.
To
Genevieve’s
surprise, she
found it easy to make
small talk
and ask about
their crafts and families
.
No
one raised the kind of excitement that Sally seemed to feel for Peter, but the walk passed pleasantly
.
She couldn’t help but notice that
though the boys began to warm up to
Damian
Black
, the girls all kept their distance
.

At the grove, t
he girls
and boys separated a
gain
until the
p
riestess
called them all to order
.
“
Welcome all of you to the Bridal Week
.
As you know
,
our events are designed to give the girls the chance to spend time with the boys in our group
.
Today is simple: each girl will choose a
color
from
my bag
to know
whom
she will share lunch with
.
After lunch
,
you can
mingle again
and
if you choose
walk in the
f
orest
.
Enjoy this time together
.
Do not forget that we serve
Titania in all that we do here
.
Be true to yourselves
and respectful of each other, and Titania will smile on you
and bless t
he unions you form this week.”

There was a moment of
pious
silence at her words,
and
then
the girls approached to cho
o
se their ribbon from
her
bag
.
Soon they
were laughing and squealing, but Genevieve had lost the easiness she’d felt just a few minutes before
.
Everyone had been warm and friendly so far, which pleased her
—
it had felt like a gathering from her school days before all her troubles
.
But this wasn’t school
—
it was the
Bridal Week
—
and by the end of it, these laughing girls and boys would be married couples
.

She
held back as long as she could, but finally she could
delay
no longer
.
To her surprise, before she could reach into the bag,
the priestess took her face in her hands and kissed her forehead
.
“Titania bless you, Genevieve,” she said
.
S
he placed something in her hand
and whispered
, “Don’t look
until you’ve sat down.”

Genevieve
was too preoccupied
with
trying to get away from
the others and their oppressive gaiety
to notice the ribbon in her hand
.
She threw her shawl down beneath a tree at the far end of th
e meadow
and plopped down, fighting
to get her temper back in order before she shocked the poor boy cursed to share lunch with her
.

Unfortunately her valiant efforts were all for naught
.
She noticed
Damian Black approaching her spot
and
quickly
opened her hand
:
in it
was
a black ribbon
.
She now cursed the nerves that made her choose a spot so far from the others
.
Sh
e wasn’t afraid of Damian Black
precisely, but she would have
preferred
if they’d at least been within earshot of the other couples
.

Damian
came to t
he edge of her shawl
and just stood there
.
Genevieve stared up at him, blushing like a sch
ool
girl, with no idea why he was standing there
.
Finally he said,
“May I join you?”

“Of course!”
she burst out,
appalled
that she would
forget her manners
.
As he placed the basket and took a seat, s
he fumbled for something to say
and then
remembered that they’d never been
formally
introduced
.

“I
actually
know your name
,” she stammered
.
“
Damian of
the house of Black
.
People call me
Jenny
.
”

She groaned inwardly
—
her parents and school friends called her Jenny, but she hated that
nickname
.
Jenny was the girl who’d existed before her music changed
.
“Don’t call me that,” she added hastily
.
“Genevieve, I’m Genevieve
Miran
.”

“Genevieve,” he said as if testing it out
.
“Much better
.
I am indeed Damian Black, and I am
delighted
to meet you, Genevieve.”

She looked at him sharply
—
something in the way he spoke ma
d
e the words sound like more than just an
empty
civility
.
He met her eye almost like he was challenging her,
which made her flush violently
and look away
.
She hat
ed
how easily
discomposed
she was
and was
suddenly terrified she might burst into tears
—
how foolish! 

To her surprise, she felt his fingers gently grip her chin, pulling her face up to meet his gaze
.