mirror shards // matthew fairchild {1}

seven // secrets

Eventually, Matthew runs out of places to run and fetches up against a bookshelf in the library.

Sydney skids around the corner, sees him, and to his surprise, relaxes into a laugh. She comes toward him with her hands in the air. "Sorry," she says, "sorry, sorry. I'm not going to hurt you. I couldn't tell you I was acting, or it wouldn't have been convincing."

"It was a very convincing act," says Matthew, trying to catch his breath. That was a lot of running. "They don't actually believe you fell through the window, do they?"

"Apparently, they do. After all, I've done weirder. Not all of which they've heard of."

Matthew raises an eyebrow. "I think you might have more dark secrets than me."

"I can't say." Sydney steps up close to Matthew, her fingertips dangerously close to his face. "I've told you some of my story, you haven't told me any of yours." Her eyes are very blue, rimmed and flecked with black like ink on bottle glass.

"And here I thought I was the one seducing you."

Sydney chuckles. "Well, I was madly in love with you when you were at the Academy. Or so I thought at the time."

Matthew reaches up and catches her hand with his own. "And you're not anymore?"

"Love is one thing, and lust, too. Infatuation is another. Love, as the mundane bible says, is patient, and kind, and it's good for you. Lust is blind, but it's passionate, and it's also good for you. Infatuation is blind too, and also childish and stupid. I was infatuated, and then I went to Romania, and I thought I'd moved on, put that behind me, and then I came back here, and...I'm not infatuated, not anymore, and I don't think I'm in love with you quite yet, but..." she laughs, and it sounds almost broken. "Damn you, Matthew Fairchild. You still smell like licorice."

Matthew lets go of Sydney's hand and touches her cheek. "You return from Romania claiming ruination as if it is a badge of honor, and now this...someone broke your heart in Romania, didn't they? And badly, too."

The sun in Sydney's eyes clouds over. "It's not that simple."

Days Past: Idris, 1900

When Emil announces that he'll be moving to Târgoviște over the summer, Adriana is practically moved to tears of joy.

"Now we'll be able to see each other during the summers, and then once we're out of the Academy, Sydney, you can come to stay with us for your tour year!" she squeals. "It'll be perfect! If he hasn't come around already, you'll help him see that I'm a perfect match for him, and then he'll declare his intentions to marry. You can make my dress for the wedding."

Sydney's own heart swells with hope. It really would be perfect – Adriana and Emil are practically made for each other, down to their taste in music (ragtime) and their nervous habits (head-scratching, midnight kitchen raids).

Unfortunately, Emil is twice as oblivious to the world as Christopher is. He trips over a chair just walking into the room.

"Emil!" Adriana hops up to steady him, and Sydney picks up her knitting. This is a pair of gloves, which she's sending back home to Lucie. Quietly, she allows herself to spin the fantasy out a little more.

In Târgoviște, she'll have access to information she needs to find out whether this Zmeul Zmeilor she's been chasing is, in fact, another name for her demon grandfather. If her own powers are any indication, it would make total sense. And yes, she'll make the dress for Adriana's wedding, and maybe Emil's coat, too.

She'll get the answers she wants, and recognition for her talent as a seamstress: things to bring home, so she can make her younger siblings proud. If she's lucky, maybe she'll find someone to love in Romania, someone to help her move on from her stupid crush on a carefree blond boy a million miles away. She can get a flat there, split her time between London and Târgoviște.

But Matthew said it himself. There is no special protection in this world for kind people.

A/N:

Let me state it for the crowd: NOBODY DIES.