Hypnos spoke animatedly with Enrique at the dining table. The other boy rolled his eyes and smiled in response to something the House Nyx heir had said. That was fine. Enrique had a right to laugh, especially after everything he'd been through. But when he smiled lopsidedly at Hypnos, something tugged at Zofia's heart. That was the same way he smiled at her.
"Uh-oh. I know that look."
Zofia turned to Laila, who was sitting beside her. "What look?"
"Like you want to set fire to something."
"That would be a waste of matches." She went back to glowering at the two.
"Zofia," Laila said gently, tapping Zofia's shoulder. "I promise you, Enrique isn't in love with Hypnos."
Zofia wasn't particularly surprised that Laila knew how she felt. Laila had the ability to identify and articulate her emotions, which Zofia appreciated.
"I know," she muttered.
Zofia had always been different. She'd known that since a young age. Mostly, though, she hadn't cared, or she'd tried not to care. This was the way she was born; why should she be ashamed of it? Yet Hypnos reminded her of everything she was not. She couldn't make Enrique laugh so loudly, so easily.
Laila's dark eyes looked far too knowing. "Your mind tells you one thing, and your heart another."
"It's awful," Zofia grumbled, using her fork to scrape a larger divide between her roast beef and potatoes. She was never much of a cook, but even she could come up with a more flavorful culinary combination than this, with the same ingredients. Flaki soup and Silesian kluski , or placki ziemniaczane, perhaps. Hela could have made those.
Thinking about the foods of her homeland was almost enough to make her forget about the way Hypnos slung an arm around Enrique. Almost.
Her mouth was suddenly dry, even though she'd just taken a drink of water. Suddenly, the lights felt too bright, the tablecloth too rough. She counted the stitches on the hems of her sleeves, but that didn't help. Across the table, Severin set down his glass. Zofia flinched at the noise. Slowly, other sounds pierced her ears, like the clink of silverware and the noise of Laila chewing next to her, building up to a cacophony. It was getting to be too much, it was too much--
"Zofia?" Enrique peered at her from across the table, his dark eyes worried. Hypnos's arm had slipped from his shoulders, but Zofia couldn't find it in herself to be glad. "Are you well?"
"Excuse me," she said, pushing away from the table. Her skin crawled as she felt all their eyes on her. "I need some air."
She left the dining room without looking back.
* * *
Zofia headed to the one place she knew she could gather herself; her workshop.
It was isolated, far from the rooms of L'Eden, and soundproofed, which was useful for any disturbances she might make, like explosions or fires. Her projects were organized on shelves and in bins by date, completion, success, and material. She disliked a cluttered space; it in turn cluttered her thoughts. Looking around at it now calmed her somewhat.
"Breathe six seconds, hold six seconds, exhale six seconds," she said aloud, preparing herself for an exercise she used whenever she was overwhelmed.
One hundred and sixty-two seconds later, the door flew open.
Zofia reached for the flammable pendants around her neck, but stilled when she realized it was Hypnos in the doorway.
He was draped in extravagance as usual; a fine black waistcoat, gold jewelry, and the Babel Ring that flashed on his hand. Yet for all his gaudiness, his demeanor was hesitant. He paused inside the doorway. "Hello, ma'chere."
Zofia didn't move her hand away from her pendants. "Why are you here?"
"To apologize. May I come in?"
She tilted her head, considering him. Hypnos was infamous for saying one thing while meaning another. Laila called it "euphemisms." Severin called it "double meanings." Hypnos's eyes were wide and his hands were clasped, gestures that seemed to convey his genuineness.
"You may."
"Charming place you've got here," Hypnos said, peering at the shelves. "Is that a bomb?"
"A prototype." Zofia pointed at the bins lining the walls. "I have many."
"And you didn't...dispose of them?"
"Of course not. Every failure is an opportunity to succeed."
Hypnos inched toward the far wall. "Right. Well, I'll just stand here, then."
Despite herself, a corner of Zofia's mouth tugged up. His fear was almost endearing, like Enrique's. Which reminded her of why Hypnos was here.
"You said you were here to apologize," she prompted.
Hypnos straightened, smoothing out his coat nervously. "Yes. I wanted to explain what you saw out there."
"It seemed clear to me."
He shook his head. "There was a time that Enrique and I might have loved each other, but it is past. We have no relationship except platonically."
"You sound wistful," she noted.
"I am sorry that I could not appreciate him more and appreciate what he does. Believe me, ma'chere, when I say that you do more for him than I ever did."
"What do you mean?"
Hypnos threw his hands up in the air--a motion of exasperation. "Have you never noticed the way he looks at you? Like you're an open flame."
"Dangerous and unpredictable?"
"I was going to say mesmerizing, but I suppose those work too. Not in a bad way, of course," he added quickly.
"How is that not a bad thing?"
"You're fierce and you're a force of nature."
Zofia cocked her head. She'd always been looked down upon, but she'd never thought to think of her flaws as strengths, too.
"Enrique doesn't care for me, not in that way. He loves you. No one else. I'm sorry for causing you distress, Zofia. I'm sorry that I might have made you think that. I should have been more mindful."
"You should have," she agreed, crossing her arms. He loves you. No one else. "But...thank you."
Hypnos smiled then--an expression similar to Enrique's in its asymmetry. "Of course, ma'chere."
The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and then Enrique burst through the door, his hair disheveled as per usual. Zofia's fingers itched to comb it back into place.
"I'll leave you two to it, then." Hypnos winked at the pair, and then retreated.
Zofia immediately shut the door. "He will most likely eavesdrop, if he hasn't begun already," she explained at Enrique's look of confusion.
"I will not!" Hypnos's voice drifted through the door.
Enrique rolled his eyes. "Go away, Hypnos."
"This is the thanks I get for helping you two actually communicate?" the other boy complained, but his shadow receded from the door and then disappeared.
"I'm sorry," Enrique said immediately, hanging his head. "I wanted to go after you, but Laila said to let Hypnos try first. I should've come anyway--"
"No," Zofia interrupted. "He explained everything."
Enrique rocked back on his heels. "What did he say?"
"He said that you two are only friends."
He raised his eyebrows. Zofia knew he had a knack for sensing when something was lacking. He'd developed it from all the times he'd read stories and superstitions, knowing that something more lurked behind the rumors. "Is that all?"
"He also said..." She hesitated. The next words felt like they would be impossible to take back. But Enrique had a right to know.
"He said that you love me."
Enrique froze. "Oh."
"Is it true?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He swallowed--a pattern of nervousness, but he held his head high. "It is. I understand it may be too early in our courtship, but...Zofia, I love you. You're brilliant, you're brave, and you're one of a kind, phoenix. I once told you to trust in yourself...but now, I don't need to. Because you keep rising from the ashes, no matter the odds."
Warmth seared in Zofia's chest as she looked at him. Enrique had a way with words that made her speechless. He used metaphor as deftly as she used her own tools. But she didn't need decoration for her words. She only needed the structure. The simple truth.
"My mother once told me to be a light in darkness. But I think I find it more in the people around me. Here--" She tapped her chest, where her heart was. "Here, it hurts a little less, when you're with me."
Compared to Enrique's speech, her words were short, stripped. But from the way Enrique's smile lit up her workshop, she couldn't tell the difference.
They were only inches apart, staring at each other. The air became charged, as with electricity, the way her Forging ability felt when she infused something with life. Her breathing quickened to match her pulse.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked.
She nodded, and he closed the distance between them, lightly circling his arms around her shoulders.
The kiss was like sinking into a thick blanket--soft and warm and comforting. Everything fell away, and she could only focus on Enrique, the way he touched her cheek, featherlight, and pulled her closer.
Zofia curled her fingers into the soft hair at the nape of Enrique's neck. She gasped as her body seemed to come alight, her senses burning. Right now, the sensation was pleasant, but her mind warned her it wouldn't last for long. Already she felt like she was overheating, her vision tinging and blurring--
Fortunately, Enrique seemed to feel her rising discomfort, breaking the kiss and stepping away. "Do you need some time?"
Zofia nodded, beginning her breathing exercises again. She was grateful that he knew that she needed distance. Still, she felt some guilt for ending the moment. "I...I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize," Enrique said gently. "I know you, Zofia."
I know you. The words were sweet and familiar, like Laila's sugar cookies.
"The dinner," she found herself saying. "Has it ended?"
"Actually, yes." Enrique's stomach growled and he smiled bashfully. "Although I confess I haven't eaten much."
"I found the food to be rather bland. I wish I could cook better. Then I wouldn't have to rely L'Eden's menu. Perhaps I should talk to Severin about it."
"You should try Filipino cuisine sometime," Enrique said. "It's so much more flavorful."
"Tell me about it," Zofia suggested, pulling out a chair at her worktable and gesturing for him to do the same. "We have time."