Crowns of Flame and Ice - Book One

(25) Chin Up Buttercup

Quilo sucked in a deep breath, then released it, his shoulders curling with the movement. He then tossed a grin at me, "I actually got you something too." I stilled, not for as long as I could remember had anyone but Rosie and James ever given me a present on the winter solstice. Ever. I adverted my gaze as Quilo leant forward, the blanket slipping dangerously low to reveal his lower back, lower still. When he leant back he handed me two small black packages that had been bound together by a neat silver bow. One was flat, a little longer but no wider than my hand. The other felt like a thin, hard box, it rattled slightly as I gently shook it.

The wrapping paper was so beautiful, it had been carefully folded underneath to ensure whatever was inside stayed hidden. I trailed my finger over the scratchy silver ribbon, great care had been taken to ensure it all matched. Someone had been taking notes about what colour combinations I liked, a little smile tugged on my lips. "I should've just given you the roll of ribbon and wrapping paper" Quilo mumbled, shaking me from my thoughts. I actually probably would've liked that, not even the gifts Rosie and James gave me had been wrapped. A thought occurred to me then and my head swung towards him, "you wrapped this?" He shrugged, tiny pink speckles tingeing his cheeks, "unless you count the band of servants and guards that travelled with us as help, then yes I wrapped it myself." I glared at him, his eyes lighting with humour at his poor attempt at sarcasm. My heart did that silly little leap again at the thought that someone had cared enough to wrap my present, I was completely baffled by the fact that he'd given me one in the first place.

I gently tugged on the silver ribbon and watched as it slid away from the parcels and then carefully folded it, setting it to one side. I did the same with the black paper, careful not to tare it. I'd guessed correctly, in my hand now rested a beautiful black box. A stunning golden 'A' engraved on the top, my heart again leapt at the fact he hadn't added the 'C' after it. I was about to thank him for the gift but paused as I lifted the lid. Inside, sat on a bed of black silk, was the sleek black fountain pen I'd seen all those weeks ago in the market. Tears again stung my eyes. My hand shook as I wrapped my fingers around the cool metal, I was surprised at the weight of it. The gold was just as beautiful as I remembered, stark against the matte black finish. I gulped, willing the tears in my eyes to go away, memories of how he'd snapped at me for standing there too long resurfacing. Then a tiny slip of paper caught my eye in the lid of the box, in Quilo's elegant black writing wrote, "for when you sign the contract to the world." I whimpered and again looked over at Quilo. Gods he was stunning, those blue eyes like a crystal lake that showed onlookers the secrets to the universe. He swallowed, "you don't have to dip it into any ink. There are these thin capsules that you put inside and then the ink just flows out when you write." He tugged the silk away revealing the strips of black ink beneath, it was a rather clever invention.

I reached over for the other present, carefully removing the black paper and folding it neatly before setting it with the other square. My breath caught as I looked down at the elegant black notebook, I half hoped it wasn't another sex book, half hoped it was. On the cover was an engraved image of a tree, a woman with long hair sitting at its base reading a book. It had then been filled in with the same gold that had been used on the box, the glittering colour catching in the sunlight. I'd never seen anything like it. I trembled and just as I thought I'd burst out of my skin Quilo whispered "turn it over." I did and a laugh escaped me as I read the engraved text, "for Lil Red, who is equally terrifying and beautiful." There was so much detail, so much thought put into the gifts and I... gods I couldn't take it.

I flipped to the first page, I worried for my health as my heart again stopped. A delicate drawing had been etched in pencil and then filled in with watercolour. You could see where many, many attempts had been made to get the lines perfect. It was a drawing of a willow tree that sat on a tall grassy hill, little yellow flowers that I presumed were buttercups peppered the ground. Each petal had a faint orange streak through and each leaf, every single one, had deeper green veins through them. Whoever had drawn this must've taken hours to do the details in the leaves alone. I could never have created anything like this, nothing so beautiful.