thunderstruck | book #2 | discontinued

X X X V I I I

Hilda looked up from the book she was reading as a knock at the library door disturbed her. She had been curled up in her armchair, trying to distract herself from all she had to think about with words. It had not been working, but sitting in the dim, golden lights, wrapped in the scent of wood and old pages, was enough to make her feel slightly more at ease.

That all went away when Alastair peeped through the door, his blue eyes glinting. She had allowed him to stay, offering him the spare bedroom that was furthest away from the main quarters of the house. He had taken the hint. They had not spoken since the dinner with Remy, and yet now here he was.

Hilda straightened, folding down the page she had been attempting to read and placing the book down on the desk. She was in her pyjamas—a green silk dressing gown covering a golden slip dress—and her hair was still damp from her shower. It made her feel exposed, but she tried not to show it in her expression as she stood up and crossed her arms across her chest.

Alastair was the first to talk. "I thought I would find you in here. May I come in?"

Hilda sighed. "If you must."

He did so timidly, shuffling in and shutting the door behind him as his eyes roamed the walls, which were covered in shelves of books. "This was always my favourite room in the house. I would hide in here for hours."

"You always have loved hiding," Hilda answered coldly. "Is there something I can do for you, Alastair?"

He snapped his gaze away from the books, meeting Hilda's eyes with furrowed eyebrows that said he was worried about something. "It has been three nights since Maksim escorted the mortal girl home. He has not returned yet. Are you not in the slightest bit concerned?"

Hilda felt defensive, the question sounding almost like an accusation. "Are you truly questioning my parenting skills?"

"No. Of course not. I am merely wondering where he is."

"He is in the Mortal World with the girl that he loves. For them, it has only been a day, at most. If you knew him, you would know it was inevitable that he would stay there longer than a few minutes."

Alastair looked down in shame, though it was clear he still did not understand. "I still cannot fathom how you let him fall in love with a mortal."

"The heart is not something that can be controlled. If it was, we would not be standing here." Hilda pursed her lips, remembering how it had felt to feel the way that Maksim felt now. It was strange to look at the warlock in front of her, the warlock whom she had known so well, and try to hate him the way she should have. "Besides, considering our other children are currently preoccupied with the art of dark magic, Remy Morgan is the least of our worries. If one of my children deserves to be happy, it is Maksim. If that means him disappearing every now and again, it is something I can live with."

"And if he has another ... episode?"

She remembered the charred edges of her carpet where Maksim had supposedly burnt it away with his own tainted magic and tried not to flinch. "If anybody can prevent that, it is her."

He looked at her in wonder, taking a step forward. "You have a lot of faith in her."

"If you do not, you are a fool. You would know that if you had been here."

Alastair nodded, inching to the books and tracing his fingers across the spines. For a moment, it felt as though Hilda was with him again—truly with him—watching him fall in love with every book that he read as he mumbled about how much he loved her and his family. They had spent hours, decades, in this library, talking about everything that came to mind until they no longer needed words, but glances, to communicate. She would often come home after work and find him curled up in the very armchair she had just been sat in, a book still open on his lap, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. She had to remind herself that that life was gone. Her husband had left her. Now she spent her days here alone.