The Autumn Prince

23. Détente

Katherine turned back to her with her mouth open, incredulous, and I was about to intercede when she spun on me, "See? Even the newbie gets it! I haven't asked you to use your powers because I think they're safe, I want you to use them because I trust you, and I can't believe I'm agreeing with her but Miss Gold is right. You have to catch up before you can get ahead of any of this."

I sighed, leaning back into the cushions, "I'm not anxious for no reason. Would you give a gun to a five-year-old?"

"You're not five, Thomas. I wouldn't give a child a kitchen knife, but I'd trust you with a sword."

"You have a sword?" Becca asked brightly.

"Oh for the love of—" Katherine began, but stood and walked into the kitchen, murmuring to herself. The apartment felt smaller than ever.

"I don't have a sword, Becca, just the stuff in the chest."

"That's what was under the tarp, isn't it? Can I see?"

"Sure," I said, shrugging, and took the key from my pocket.

"Oh cool!" she gushed, watching me unlock it.

"It's not that impressive once you get used to it. The big wooden book is the Glim Miss Gold was talking about. It's really the only useful thing in here, and it's really hard to use."

She looked through the hagstone. "Oh, wow, it's all glowing!"

"Mostly just the stuff on the top." I lifted out and passed the Glim carefully to her and she grunted as she took the heavy tome from my hands.

"Can I...?" she left the question hanging, hugging the book to herself, eyes hopeful. I nodded and she beamed at me. "this is so cool!"

"Just wait until it starts screwing with your head," Katherine added from the kitchen.

"Becca, can you excuse me for a second?" I asked and she nodded, dropping onto the sofa and opening the heavy cover with something close to rapture. I stepped into the kitchen and was confronted by a short, blonde woman glaring daggers at me with her arms tightly crossed.

"Come with me," I said, taking her hand, and was surprised when she complied without objection. I led her back into the bedroom and shut the door.

"Katherine," I said, letting some of my frustration seep into my tone, "you've got to stop picking at her, none of this is her fault."

"I know!" she snapped, throwing her arms down at her sides, "I'm not even mad, and that's what's really pissing me off!"

"What?"

"Thomas," she sighed, "If I was able to be mad at you or Becky it wouldn't be rational, I know that. The problem is I'm too rational when I feel like I should be screaming and throwing things, because it's what a normal woman would do when something is supposed to hurt. I don't want to share you with anyone, and if I just accept everything calmly it's like I'm giving up and handing you over to a stranger like I don't give a fuck, but I still can't get myself to blow up. I feel like I'm standing in a lake and no matter how much I slap the water it won't make a splash, it's just sitting there being fucking peaceful!"

She made a fist and banged it against my chest, though not hard, then fell against me, letting me wrap her in a hug.

"And I hate that I'm swearing so much. I'm just frustrated, and I have to find new ways of dealing with that because you've taken all the old ones away."

"Katherine, I—"

"No! Don't you dare stand there and make this about you, this is on me right now, I just... need some time. And your help."