5. Sylvan

5

SYLVAN

I was careful not to hurt Irving, even though the cut on his cheek was little more than a scratch. I never wanted to hurt anyone, let alone someone I hardly knew who already detested me. The glasses proved a tricker fix, with the break being right along the nose where a great deal of pressure was naturally placed.

I glued the two pieces back together, but that would never be enough. They would surely snap again after a few minutes, and if I didn't fix them properly, Irving was liable to explode with anger.

"Let's try this," I said, wrapping some twine around the glued section.

"String?" Irving replied dubiously.

"It's not just any old string," I told him. "It's made with stinging nettle fibers. It's very durable and quite useful for a variety of applications." I winked, but either Irving didn't see it or he chose to ignore it.

"Will it sting since it's made from stinging nettle?"

"Not once it's dried. Here, you can touch it if you'd like."

He shook his head. "I'll take your word for it."

I finished wrapping the twine around the nose and secured it in place, giving the glasses a bend test. They held together, hardly budging.

"There, all done. Try them now."

Irving fitted the glasses over his face, letting them drop gently into place. Then he pressed his finger down gingerly over the break, testing its strength like I had a few seconds before.

"I think you actually might have done it," he said.

I smiled, proud of my work. "It won't last forever, but it should stay together long enough for you to get new glasses. Aren't you glad you came back here with me tonight?"

"No, because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have broken my glasses or cut my cheek or had a spider crawl all over me." He crossed his arms tightly, resting back on the couch with a pinched expression on his face.

"Ah, right. Well, I'm sorry about all that, but at least it will make for a good story someday."

Now that he could see clearly again, he took in the room for a second time, his gaze landing on a stack of canvases propped against the wall.

"You paint?" he asked.

I nodded. "Would you like to see some of them?"

"Why not? I don't consider myself an art connoisseur by any means, but I enjoy a visit to a museum now and then."

I untucked my feet from underneath me and stood up from the couch. "You don't have to be a connoisseur to enjoy my art, don't worry." I selected a few of my favorite pieces from one of the piles and brought them over to Irving, who picked up each one and looked it over.

"Do you sell them?" he asked. "Or do you allow them to accumulate in your house like a hoarder?"

I smiled pointedly, snatching the paintings back from him. "I sell them."

"Well, I suppose it can't cost much to live in the forest. I assume you make repairs on your cabin yourself, harvest your own food, those sorts of things?"

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to break the tender flesh. I wanted to be snarky, but that wasn't fair to Irving. He obviously didn't get out much and his level of tact was a little lacking through no fault of his own.

"I do," I responded as calmly as I could manage. "But most of my money goes toward wildlife preservation or new plants for my property. I'm not wealthy if that's what you're thinking."

Irving snorted. "Certainly not. I don't doubt that your paintings sell, but how much could you possibly get for…studies of nature?"

"See this one here?" I picked up one of the larger framed canvasses, pointing aggressively at the picture. "One like this just sold for several thousand at auction, and that was less than I usually expect to get for one of this style. I'm not famous by any means, but my art sells well. I even have a bit of a cult following from some collectors."

That was enough to shut Irving up. He sipped his tea in silence, staring at the crackling logs burning in the wood stove. The sun had set fully by now, so I lit a few more candles to add more light to the dim room. With Irving properly humbled, I didn't mind studying him for a bit and imagining what it might be like if we were two very different people and actually liked each other.

His face was tight and serious. He had faint wrinkles near his eyes and lines on his forehead, probably from concentrating too hard over work for the past couple of decades. He kept his black hair short and neat, his facial hair shaved, and if I had to guess, he wore the same kind of suit every day no matter what, only changing out the tie for different colors. His lips pursed into a thin line and his eyes were dark and scrutinizing, but there was a certain softness that appeared whenever he got lost in thought. I would have liked to get to know him better, but I doubted anything would come of this night, especially not after so many unfortunate mishaps.

"It's getting late," he said, setting his empty cup of tea back on the coffee table. "Do you have an extra blanket or a large coat I can use to stay warm tonight?"

I got up and lifted the quilt off my bed, tossing it toward him "Here, use this."

"What about you? Won't you get too cold?"

I shook my head. "Fae are remarkably good at regulating our body temperature, even outside in freezing weather. Why do you think you only ever see us wearing robes or tunics, never anything more or less?"

Irving paused, watching me carefully, as if he were seeing me for the first time. "I never thought about it before," he admitted. "I apologize, my studies haven't led to much knowledge about faefolk."

I waved my hand at him. "No need to apologize. It's not your job to learn about my kind. It helps that we're not one of the more historically feared types of monsters as well, so there's less written about us because everyone sort of accepted us long ago and let us blend in with humankind."

"That is unfortunately very true." Irving lowered his head, playing with the tassel on the throw pillow tucked under his arm. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll just wash up and go to bed. I would head home, but it's too dark for me to go back now, and my car's still at the library."

"You could have driven," I told him.

"Down that road?" he scoffed. "I would rather have to replace my glasses than my car."

I smiled. "Fair enough. The bathroom is through that door over there, and I'll blow out all the candles once you're safely in bed."

"Oh, I was going to sleep on the couch."

"I would never force a guest of your size to sleep on a tiny couch like this. Please, take my bed. It's a bit small, but it will certainly be more comfortable than this lumpy old thing." I patted the couch and for a second, I thought I might get a laugh or even a smile from Irving.

But he turned his head away from me before I could see his expression, getting up and disappearing behind the bathroom door.