Free The Shape-Changer's Wife by Sharon Shinn Page B

wrap around the pineapple-shaped ornamentation of the four-poster frame.
    â€œLook at that!” Aubrey said. “I’ve never seen ivy come inside a house before.”
    â€œThat’s the side of the bed where I sleep,” Lilith replied.
    Aubrey went closer to investigate. The tight green vines seemed tough and sentient under his hand. “Aren’t you afraid of waking up in the middle of the night to find yourself being strangled?” he asked, only half-jesting.
    Her sudden smile gleamed and vanished. “Glyrenden is,” she said.
    â€œI wonder why he lets the ivy grow into the room, then.”
    â€œHe doesn’t. He cuts it back all the time. But it keeps growing.”
    â€œDo you want me to cut it back for you now? I don’t think Glyrenden will be home till after nightfall.”
    She had come to stand beside him and her hand rested, briefly, on one of the flat, heart-shaped leaves. “No,” she said. “I like it.”
    A moment they stood so, side by side; then Aubrey turned away. “So!” he said, his voice sounding a little too hearty. “Let’s see what your husband has bought you.”
    He knelt beside the trunk and cut its cords, then stood aside to let Lilith have the pleasure of seeing what gifts lay inside. She hesitated a moment, then bent, and with a single quick motion lifted the heavy black lid.
    Glyrenden had indeed done well by his wife. One after the other, Lilith pulled out the treasures—gowns of green silk, of red taffeta, of black velvet. He had bought her fringed scarves and lace gloves and delicate satin slippers beaded with pearls. And more—enameled combs for her hair, silver bracelets for her wrist, bottles of perfume and boxes of cosmetics. One by one, Lilith laid these items on the burgundy coverlet, and when she was done she stood back and stared at them.
    She did not look at all like a woman delighted at her husband’s generosity. She looked more like a woman who had been offered two poisoned cups, and had resigned herself to drinking one of them, and now was trying to decide which would be the least terrible.
    Aubrey picked up the gown he liked best, the one of emerald silk, cut with a deep V-neckline and narrow three-quarter sleeves. “This is pretty,” he said. “Don’t you think so?”
    â€œVery nice,” she said.
    â€œOf course you haven’t tried them on yet,” he said. He felt that he was talking just to fill the space, that one of them should be talking; one of them should be pleased. “You don’t know if they will fit.”
    â€œThey will fit,” she said.
    â€œHow can you be so sure?”
    â€œBecause Glyrenden purchased them for me, and he knows how I am made.”
    It was such an odd answer—and yet so typical of her—that Aubrey could not any longer pretend he sensed nothing wrong.
    â€œLilith, why don’t you want to go to Lord Rochester’s festival? I would think you’d be happy to go. You never get away from here, and you should—you should be around other people, enjoying yourself, making friends—”
    â€œI enjoy myself most when I am not around other people,” she said coolly.
    â€œI think you’re just afraid of people,” he said.
    She looked at him. “Do you?”
    â€œYes, you are afraid they will be hostile or sarcastic. Many people are afraid of others, you know. You just have to be nice to them first, and most people are very willing to be friends.”
    â€œThat has not been my experience,” she said dryly.
    â€œBut you are not very welcoming, as a rule,” he said in a little rush. “I mean, you do not seem interested in what others have to say, or—or to be interested in their lives at all. It puts others off. If people have been unkind to you in the past, perhaps it is because you have not been warm to them to begin with.”
    â€œWarm,” she repeated.