90. Bells in the branches

At sunrise, they approached a pair of polished courtyard gates. Ada recognised the grey buildings and enclosed gardens and realised that they must only be a short walk from the Hound's barracks, though Raeph had chosen a path that didn't stray too closely. The courtyard was bare but orderly, aside from the lock on the gate which had been inelegantly smashed. In the midst of the Stone Circle's attack, Ada doubted a Hound would've taken the time to fumble for their keys.

In the centre of the courtyard grew an apple tree, its branches weighed down with apples that were far too large and pink for the otherwise ruined city. Small white flowers grew around their stems so thickly that it looked like the fruits could float rather than fall from the tree. Ada's stomach grumbled at the sweet scent the apples gave the air and hoped it wasn't too early to have breakfast.

"The General made no secret about him living here," Raeph said as he peered into the courtyard. "Though which was his residence I can only guess."

As he spoke, a long pair of windows swung open on the building opposite, sending up a flurry of apple blossoms as they grazed the uppermost tree branches. Gauzy curtains fluttered out into the morning light and with them came the clamouring of the bells which had been roughly hung from their railing. A slender hand reached out to pluck apples from the tree and a braid of hair as silver as the bells framed a delicate face.

"Diane!" Ada called, raising the hand that wasn't clasped in Raeph's. His fingers had found hers long before sunrise and hadn't let go since.

Diane flinched, several of the apples bouncing off the window sill to split upon the cobblestones. Ada immediately regretted her thoughtlessness as the morning sun hit the dark shadows beneath the fae's eyes. She wondered if Diane had managed to get even an hour's sleep in the house her husband had occupied only nights before.

But then Diane saw them from between the branches and her smile cast the shadows from her face. In minutes, she was welcoming them into the courtyard and up the plush stairwell to her home. The building went far further back than Ada had realised, and even two floors up, Diane's rooms were more numerous than those at the Bonneville.

"The others are all still asleep," Diane said as she walked them toward the kitchen. Gold-gilded mirrors reflected their faces in each room, the walls otherwise bearing oil paintings or cases lined with leather-bound books. In one corner stood a golden harp, dusty apart from its flaxen strings. The high ceilings were likewise skirted with golden moulding, which shone in the light streaming through the wide windows. "You're welcome to join them if you would like? But I'm going to make a start on breakfast."

"Breakfast sounds perfect." Ada tried not to stare through every doorway they passed, but it was like walking into a palace. She couldn't imagine a Hound having lived here, but remembering the loose silver bells and Diane's sleepless eyes, she had an idea about how the woman had spent her night.

The kitchen opened up onto an entirely different array of riches and Ada's mouth watered at the sight of warm bread, flaking pastries, and bowl upon bowl of berries and grains. Raeph picked up a custard and blueberry tart as Diane fetched them a pitcher of orange juice and set a kettle on the stove.

"If you stayed, I could make you a breakfast like this every morning," Raeph murmured to Ada as the kettle began to whistle.

"Is baking another one of your innumerable talents?" she teased.

"I could learn," he replied and pressed a sticky kiss to her knuckles.

Ada smothered her laughter on a buttered crumpet. "My mother once taught me to bake the perfect victoria sponge."

"Whilst I haven't the faintest notion of what that may be, it is now one of my dearest wishes to taste it."

Diane returned from the stove balancing a teapot and a precarious stack of porcelain cups. Another door—which Ada had first thought to be the pantry—opened on to a little dining room with a clothed table and wicker chairs. More gauzy curtains and silver bells danced in the sunshine as Diane opened the windows and fetched her feast from the kitchen.

"Sorry for the mess," she said, trying to manoeuvre a milky bowl of porridge between a pair of golden dog heads. Their gums were drawn back into glittering snarls with teeth that looked sharper than the cutlery. Though they weren't the only oddity, as wedged beside them were crystal decanters and ruby-studded goblets. Thankfully, there weren't any chains.

"What is it all?" Raeph asked, glaring back at the dogs.

"Well, it's going to take some time, but now that this house belongs to me I intend to do what I like with it," Diane said. "I've only gone through a couple of rooms so far, but I'm gathering all of the things I have no desire to see again. I'll donate what I can, and anything superfluous will be sold at the market. The profits shall go towards rebuilding the Bonneville and, with all the rooms empty here, I thought I could open the house up to those who lost theirs in the meantime. There's so much space, it was always silly that it was only me and..."

Diane trailed off, her fingers white around her teacup as her face paled. Ada reached over and touched her shoulder. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

"Ada!" Min peered in from the kitchen. Her lips were covered in powdered sugar and she smiled shyly at Diane.

Raeph squeezed her hand and finally untangled their fingers. His warmth felt like a loss as he poured himself another cup of tea. "You should tell her now, whilst you have time together."

Min's eyes lit up as Ada walked back to the kitchen and, surrounded by the pastries and piles of fruit, they embraced as though the night had lasted centuries long.

"You disappeared again," Min pouted, though her grin returned when Ada offered her a plate of strawberries with a jug of cream.

She accepted the strawberries with a courtly nod, then whispered, "Come with me!"

Min led her into the depths of the house, and just when Ada was wondering if she should have requested a map, they arrived at a comparatively small and sparse room. It had modest windows and, instead of gold moulding, the walls were painted a buttery yellow. Min had evidently made herself comfortable, as blankets had been draped from the curtain railings to hang over the frames of obscured paintings. There was a little seam between the blankets like a tent, which Min entered first with her plate of strawberries.

Ada followed and tried to ignore the tightness in her throat as she saw Min's burrow of pillows and blankets. Memories of Florentin's caravan flooded in like the tide. Min had even propped her mother's pocketbook on the windowsill and wreathed it around with wildflowers. The plate of strawberries sat near a pile of other foods, as if Min had expected them to be snatched from her lips before she could eat her fill the night before.

"Can you believe this place? I think she might be a princess even though she told me she wasn't." Min was sorting through her pillows and thrusting the softest ones toward Ada.

Ada cleared her throat. "Min—"

"And we had tea before bed, but it wasn't made from nettles, it had these small flowers floating in it. I wasn't sure at first, but it actually tasted sweet and much nicer than nettle." Min chattered on, stuffing her mouth with strawberries rather than looking at Ada.

"Min, I need to tell you something."

"But I don't think I'll stay here, no matter how good the food is. Me and Armestrong were talking and there's just so so much that I still don't know about magic. I have my book, but I think I can learn faster in the Stone Circle, especially with their huge library. I just hope I won't have to stay down there all the time."

"Min, please!"

The girl stilled, her lips now pressed together as a strawberry was slowly crushed between her fingers. When she glanced up, her brown eyes were glossy with tears. "You're actually going to leave, aren't you?"

"How...?" Ada asked, before a soft wind spiralled in from the window and shifted the blankets. "Min, maybe you knew before I did. The glass flower... I didn't even think about the unclaimed wish before you mentioned it. But I've got to go home. Maybe someday the fae folk and humankind can make amends, but our worlds are too separated right now. If I return, I might be able to bring us closer in ways other than stories. I can make it so that when someday comes, we can see each other again without either of us being in danger."

"What if someday never comes?" Min whispered.

"It will," Ada said fiercely and took the girl's hands. "I won't let this be the last time."

"You promise?"

The wind blew stronger and Ada could hear the distant clamouring of the silver bells. "It's a pact."