Before, survival had taken up almost every second. There was no time to dwell on the possibility of anything different. Here, in this quiet neighborhood, with genuine people just steps away, people who welcomed a stranger into their home, she saw what she had missed.
She had time to think about it.
Time to wish, in that secret part of her mind, that she really belonged there.
Arista entered the room blindly.
“Oh, miss, isn’t this wonderful?” Becky said from behind her. Her bright smile said it all, and Arista forced the unease aside. Already Becky looked better, more relaxed and happy. How could Arista relocate them to someplace else, a place that could be much worse?
Everything about the room spoke of home. The yearning was back, so swift that it took her breath away. The pale floral tapestry reminded Arista of a garden. A colorful rug covered most of the gleaming wood floors. The porcelain pitcher and bowl on a small stand were not chipped at all, and the towel hanging next to them was a beautiful crisp white. Curtains were pulled back from two windows, through which she could see the gardens. Sunlight streamed inside, casting the room in a golden, almost dreamlike glow.
What would it have been like, to grow up in a room like this? With security and comfort? Love?
And the bed. So far removed from the straw tick that made up her own mattress. Arista had never seen anything like it. White wood with tall posts at each corner, it took up almost half the room. There was even a small stepladder so you could climb in.
Becky smoothed her hand over the thick quilt. “This will be a good place for us, miss. I can feel it already.”
The longing in Becky’s eyes dug under Arista’s skin like a burr. She had never seen hope on her friend’s face before. Becky had accepted her duties under Bones without one complaint, but there had never been this light in her eyes.
Resolve straightened her spine. That was why she was doing all this. To give Becky the life she deserved. To get her away from the hopelessness and fear. Arista wasn’t sure if happiness was something she could ever find, but making sure that the light in Becky’s eyes never dimmed again was within her control.
“I’m going to get some air. I won’t be long.” Arista stepped outside and shut the door behind her. The household noises faded, and were replaced by the distant sound of children’s laughter. It sliced through her like a knife. She stumbled and dug her nails into her palms.
The pain helped to dull the ache, but it didn’t go away completely.
Her shoes crunched in the loose stone walkway. One. Two. Three. Four. She counted the steps under her breath so she would remember them in the dark. Exactly twelve steps to the fence. Tall shrubs lined the intricate wrought iron, creating an intimate garden space. Brightly colored flowers bloomed despite the lateness of the season, and their delicate aroma hung in the air. Two benches were placed facing each other in the center—to encourage conversation, she thought.
She could imagine the family out here, with the soft glow of candlelight illuminating animated discussions. What did they talk about? Parties? Politics? She’d known shouting and fear all her life. Try as she might, she could not imagine these people arguing with hate in their voices. She could not envision them fighting over a scrap of food or a straw bed.
Arista glanced up at the townhouse, which loomed over the garden.
It’s only a house. They’re strangers. They don’t matter.
She repeated it over and over until some of the distance returned.
You are nobody. You are nothing.
The voice in her head dripped with ugly undertones. It was eerily similar to Bones’s, reciting a mantra she’d heard all her life. One which she had desperately fought against, but which time had proven true.
“I am nobody,” she whispered, turning her back on the house.
A throat cleared from somewhere behind her. “Am I interrupting you?”
Arista froze. Every muscle in her body tightened—first from fright and then from something else. She closed her eyes, willing away her body’s second reaction. It did no good. Heat coursed through her veins, reigniting a familiar fire.
She heard him take a step closer. Gravel crunched under his feet. She wrapped her arms around herself, a useless barrier against the surge of emotion. She could run out the gate, away from this place and him, but her legs barely held her upright.
“Father said we had a guest. I’m Graeden, but everyone calls me Grae. And you are?”
Grae is here. The thundering beat of her heart drowned out all outside noise. Arista swallowed against the lump of dread and excitement lodged in her throat. He was right there behind her.
“And you are?” he prompted again, so close she could almost feel his breath on her neck.
With no other choice, Arista turned, and looked up into the eyes of her highwayman.
“You.” The word came out in a long exhale and Arista could not help but look at his lips and remember.