Garden of Night: Beneath Devouring Eyes #3

Chapter 1 | Part 3

"I thought I'd find you here."

Bru sighed at the contralto voice rising over the fountain's quiet burble. "I'm studying, Hunibi." She kept her head tilted toward the book spread atop her lap, hoping the woman would take the hint.

As she traced her fingertip over the line of calligraphy she'd just read, her heart warmed at the ornate curls and flourishes.

No gilt scroll could match the artistry of a handmade book.

Maybe she'd ask the Legacists for paper-making lessons. Then she'd find a storyteller to spin a tale, and she'd do the calligraphy and illustrations herself.

Surely others would love this old-fashioned pleasure of reading a bound book in the Perudiis luxury deck's sugar-rose garden, a fountain bubbling beside them, the stars stretched above in splendor. She, the papermaker, and the storyteller could sell the book, split the Hours they earned, and--

Something sailed over her shoulder and thudded in her lap.

"You old hag," she grumbled, lifting the sketchbook the woman had tossed at her and setting it aside with care on the fountain's rim. She smoothed the pages of Dry and Low: Agriculture with Cold-Hardy and Drought-Tolerant Crops, then glared up at her guardian.

Hunibi Vlemij smirked down at her, ice-blue eyes sparkling beneath a side-swept wave of spiky auburn locks. She wore one of Bru's designs today, with billowy trousers gathered at the ankles and a high-collared blouse the color of her eyes. Like Bru, she bore a glittering gilt tattoo on one cheek, though hers featured three stars instead of the comet marking the time of Bru's emergence from the Womb. "One day, Kid, you too will reach the ripe old age of thirty. Then you'll look back and laugh at how absurd you just sounded."

Bru held up the textbook and glared. "This is an antique. You could have damaged it."

Hunibi shook her head and leaned over to tap the sketchbook's midnight-blue cover. "You'll find way more of value in here than in there. You ready?"

"I'm not going today." Bru set her jaw as Hunibi's brows furrowed. "You heard what they said tonight. Or didn't say." She swallowed. "I'm not good at anything. I need to study."

Hunibi crossed her arms. "They said you're good at calligraphy, and they're right." She cast the sketchbook a pointed look. "Should've mentioned your drawings, too. Those fools always forget about the arts."

Bru shook her head. "Calligraphy and drawing aren't good enough, Hunibi. I need to study."

Her guardian's pale eyes glittered. "No, you don't. But I know what you do need." And she yanked the textbook from Bru's hand and tossed it into the fountain.

Bru jerked to her feet, gaping from the bubbling water to the smirking woman and back again. "You... You just--"

Hunibi shrugged. "You'll never find yourself in those pages." She snatched up the sketchbook and began flipping through the charcoal drawings. "These ones, though..." Her brow arched as, yanking it back, Bru cradled it protectively against her chest and glared. "Ah, so you want to go draw after all."

Bru shook her head, jaw clenching. Her fingernails dug into the sketchbook's hard cover until they ached as the temptation to strike Hunibi flooded her veins like fire.

Then cooling shame washed through her at her violent thoughts. This was Hunibi. The woman who had taken her in and given her a home after the Helm had bounced her around between different caregivers for the first four years of her life.

She sighed, wondering--not for the first time--why Hunibi had done something so irrational and frustrating. Maybe she should chuck the woman into the fountain and see how Hunibi liked the treatment she'd given the poor book.