366 Days a Captive

Boundaries Crossed and Bridges Burned

Chapter Eight – Boundaries Crossed and Bridges Burned

The day passed quietly, almost uneventfully, and May was almost able to forget that she had fought with Jim earlier, almost able to relax. As the evening came round and the hour of the negotiations conclusions grew closer, May found herself glancing at the clothing she had folded neatly, stowing the more fancy pieces in Jim's closet.

He would be real pleased about that, she assumed, when he came back in the evening and discovered his own evening wear had been moved to make room for hers. Besides, a girl had to have space right? She had never heard any story of forest captives involving things like fighting for closet space. Maybe they never got that far? Maybe she was just lucky.

Staring around at the plush room, a gilded cage though it was, May felt in some ways secure. Jim had never really been untoward to her, despite his hard to understand nature, and she had always been fairly trusting and forgiving. A flaw and a strength. So when Jim returned just as the sun's last crimson breath washed the rooms in incarnadine light, a small basket tucked quietly under his arms, May had almost already forgiven him. It was hard to stay mad at the only person consistently there to talk to her.

It didn't mean that she was going to back down about going to the party though.

Jim noticed almost immediately that May was wearing one of the gowns from earlier, a turquoise and charcoal number that hugged her form gracefully, her hair done up in braids, as she assessed her reflection in one of his quarter's mirrors. He quashed the strange fluttering that stole through him and found himself wondering why he couldn't have captured a male instead of a confusing girl.

Maybe it was just distaste for the way turquoise and gray sapped the color from May's skin – a dress probably created by one of Siobhan's assistants.

"You're not seriously going to wear that." He could hear the sarcasm in his voice, buried beneath a layer of detachment. Why should he care what she was wearing? It wasn't going to matter in a moment any ways. May glared at him from the mirror.

"I most certainly am. I like this color."

Jim wrinkled his nose in distaste at a dress that was clearly the work of one of Siobhan's less talented students and set his basket aside. "It doesn't suit you." He crossed the room to stand before her. "These colors just don't work well with your skin tone, even though the dress is cut well." May raised an eyebrow in defiance.

"And what would suit me?"

Jim just stared at her silently, violet eyes drifting over her with a precision that had the hairs on May's neck standing up. His quiet contemplation felt different than any once over she had ever been given before, contemplative and cold, the glance of a stranger doing an impersonal job with unparalleled expertise. And just when she thought he could stand that way forever, he snapped a finger and turned.

"It's done. That's much more flattering. And now for your hair..." May wasn't listening as she caught a glimpse of herself in the room's mirror. The bright turquoise was now a sapphire blue, spangled with silver thread. It's rich glittering hit her with a forceful reminder. 'Jim' was as magical as she was stubborn, able to alter her appearance in an instant.

She decided then and there that she would never forget the feel of magic, like the skitter of fingers down her spine, and that she didn't like it, this power that gave others the ability to mess with her in a way she couldn't retaliate.

And then it hit her.

What's wrong with my hair?" A slight smirk curved Jim's lips a fraction higher.

"It's much prettier down," his voice was like silk again, smooth and convincing. For a moment May couldn't think of anything to say as he stepped behind her and quickly undid the braids she had worked so hard to finish. Jim found himself trying to resist the soft feeling of wavy hair in his hands as he pulled them apart, wondering why he found her hair particularly different from anyone elses.