“Did you send your letter okay?” He asked casually, flipping through a world encyclopaedia.
“Mmhmm.” I nodded feebly and crossed the room. I immediately began putting his discarded books onto the appropriate shelves. Before Noah had requested me here the library had been kept in poor order. Books lying everywhere, utterly out of sequence, and dust gathering upon every surface. Now the orange afternoon light shone merrily into the room and bounced off the highly polished surfaces. The books were sorted by topic, then alphabetically by author. Much more organised, I thought happily to myself. Noah often complained that there was no point in me putting away the used books, for he would simply take them down again within a few days. I saw him smirk every time I did it. I knew it didn’t really annoy him. When darkness gathered I would light the candles (very carefully), close the curtains and bustle off to the kitchens to bring Noah his evening snacks. He was always much more pleasant with a full stomach, and he ate several meals a day. I wondered why he wasn’t huge.
“You know, I’m getting twice as much work done now.” He said through a mouthful of turkey.
“That’s good, sir.” I turned my back to him so he wouldn’t see my grin.
“I think it’s because you’ve categorised the library.” He mused.
“I think so too.” I still didn’t turn around. I felt my heart sink. I had hoped he would say another reason for his doubled progress.
I heard him continue to munch away on his food and I unnecessarily straightened various inanimate objects around the room. It was quiet for a while. I found it hard to make conversation. What on earth would I talk about? Why would a man of his stature be interested in anything a maid had to say?
“So why did you run away?”
My heart stopped and I swirled around to face him. He was watching me now, his elbows on his desk and his face cupped in his hands.
“Excuse me?” I breathed. I was sure I hadn’t mentioned anything about ‘running away’ in the letter that he had read.
“Why did you run away?” He repeated slowly.
“I don’t know what you mean … sir.” I said softly.
Noah smiled, “It’s all right if you don’t want to tell me, Avalon. I was simply curious. Forgive me for prying.”
I scowled internally. Always the perfect gentleman. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair.
I would never betray Helena. I would die to protect her.
“I just wanted to do things for myself.” I lied, beginning to straighten things around the room again.
Noah stood from his desk and stepped around it. In a few short strides he was just a meter from me. He had his hands in his pockets, and he was staring at me. Reading me. Reading my eyes. I could feel it.
“Why?” He pressed.
He was watching so intently now. There was no way I could lie convincingly.
I decided to tell the half truth, “I was having trouble controlling my Power. I was becoming a burden. I left because I didn’t want to destroy anything else.”
“Anything else?”
“My families little cottage isn’t exactly fire-proof. Besides, it was time for a new start. I wanted to start over in a place where people didn’t know me or judge me because I’m a Fire Mage.” Strangely I found myself spilling my feelings, “I was known as a trouble maker, a fire demon in Mortlock.”
Noah pursed his lips, “You’re all right now though.” He pointed out.
“Yes. I think it’s because I had a chance to start again. I’ve always been afraid to be around people, sir.”
“I know. You’re conversation skills are rather poor.” Noah teased.
I ignored him. Somehow I had been dying to confess all of these things since I had run away. But why Noah? Why was I suddenly having a bad case of verbal diarrhoea?
“I tried to repress my Power for years and years, but I would just have nightmares and it would come exploding from my body. I wasn’t allowed to socialise with the other children. I once set a little boys hair on fire, and that was it. So I stayed at home for most of my life, hiding from the world. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
I licked my lips and avoided Noah’s eyes.
“You are quite interesting, Avalon Redding. Ever since I first lay eyes on you in the grounds, on my day of return, you’ve always reminded me of … well …” He trailed off, “I could tell there was something bothering you from day one. I think you are hurting more than you let on.”
I shrugged indifferently, “I have more things to worry about now, sir.” Oh, how I wanted to tell him how right he was. I ached inside. For Helena. For Hawthorne. For him.
“You shouldn’t bottle it up.” Noah told me. I felt like a child being lectured by a teacher, “One day you’ll burst.”
“I have a lot of distractions.” I challenged.
“You take on a lot of responsibility for someone so young.”
Now I really felt like a child.