Magic Under Stone by Jaclyn Dolamore Page B

alike come with work, wherever you are .
    I was only sitting in a room with the nonthreatening objects of everyday life—pen and paper, candle, desk—and yet, my skin was burning. This was a bold way to speak to a man. Especially a prominent man like Hollin Parry.
    I read the letter over, trying to think as he might think when he read it.
    In the end, I decided I didn’t care. It felt true. It even felt a bit wise, certainly more wise than anything I would say in person. Would I be happier sending him a frothy thing full of pleasantries?
    No.
    And so I sealed the letter away, readying it for an ocean journey.

Chapter 9
    When I came downstairs to put Hollin’s letter in the basket where outgoing mail was kept, Erris was there to tease me.
    “We’re not going to hear what you wrote to him? What did his letter say? Don’t make me guess! ‘Dear Nimira, I am terribly sunburned and red as a lobster. If only you were here to do your traditional Slathering Cream on a Sunburned Man dance.’”
    I slapped his hand with the letter and put it back in the basket. “Can you be serious for two minutes?”
    “Two minutes? I can probably manage that. Are you going to tell me what he said?”
    “No! Certainly not with that attitude. Anyway, it was a long letter full of nothing much.”
    “You just have an awfully serious look on your face.”
    “I don’t have any look on my face. At least, I didn’t. Now I’m cross. You shouldn’t insult my dancing. And Hollin isn’t like that.”
    “Hollin is a bigot. With dead animals in his house. And, besides all that, as interesting as tree bark.”
    “You hardly—” I stopped. If I defended Hollin, this would become a full-blown quarrel. I suddenly felt entirely irked at Erris, and quickly shook my head to free my thoughts. “I’m not going to discuss this further.”
    The trouble with being upset with Erris was that I was attracted to him at the same time. It made it difficult to have a proper argument. Nor was he the arguing sort. Everything was a joke to him.
    He laughed now. “No one can look so indignant as you, Nim. Well, unfortunately I can’t prowl around at night and search your room, so I will have to trust you’ll tell me if Hollin says anything unseemly to you.”
    “It isn’t as if you’re my suitor, anyway,” I said, hoping to provoke him.
    “Well, I should hope that doesn’t mean he is your suitor.” Erris still sounded teasing, but there was nothing teasing about the sudden slant of his eyebrows.
    “No, it means simply that if he does say something unseemly, I shall defend myself.”
    “I have no doubt of that,” he said with a grin. Which only irked me further.
    Another couple of weeks passed. It rained frequently, and the evergreens flourished with clusters of cones. The maple, birch, and poplar began to shed their leaves of flame, and one morning I woke to the first snow, falling soft and sparse.
    As the world began to tuck in for a long sleep, Violet began towake up. Erris’s simple treatment of fresh food and hours of fresh, brisk air didn’t make her catch cold as Celestina feared but instead brought color to her pale cheeks, although she was still thin. But then, she didn’t eat much. She had a hideous tantrum when he tried to feed her raw carrots for breakfast.
    The trouble with Violet’s feeling better was that she wanted to follow everyone everywhere. Whether we were cooking or all gathered around the piano, Violet was there chattering as if she had years of stored conversation to unload. She told us stories from books she was reading when we’d rather simply read the book ourselves, and she sulked when we didn’t pay attention to her. She was a champion sulker, capable of keeping the same sullen face and pose for an hour straight until it was impossible to have fun in her presence, but her good moods were almost as irritating.
    One afternoon I had just set out on a walk, and Violet came running after me like an excitable puppy. She