Page 33 of For the Love of the Quest

Edith smiled, and that spark of chaos Thomasin loved so much was finally back in her eyes. “I can think of a few things.”

Thomasin groaned, but she didn’t think she’d ever felt lighter.

Days later, camped out in a dense forest, she had to admit she was slightly regretting her offer ofanything.

“Stay still,” Edith scolded.

“It tickles,” Thomasin grumbled. She was lying on her bedroll, with Edith’s rolled up underneath her head to prop her neck andshoulders up. She peeked one eye open, then immediately closed it when she was met with the sharp point of a charcoal pencil mere inches away from her cornea.

“Don’t be such a baby.” Edith’s thumb pressed into Thomasin’s cheekbone, and her fingers rested along the outer edge of Thomasin’s cheek. She sat criss-cross on the ground, leaning over Thomasin’s upper torso to get the right angle.

Thomasin felt the charcoal trace across her eyelid, right along the lash line. Her eye twitched of its own volition.

“Just relax! If you keep moving, the liner won’t be straight.” Edith’s voice had taken on a huffy edge. They had been at this for a while.

She felt Edith’s forefinger at the outer corner of her eye, pulling her lid taut. Thomasin took a deep breath and held it as Edith worked.

“There!” she said triumphantly.

“Is it done?” Thomasin opened her eyes.

“That was only the first step,” Edith said with a barely contained smile.

“You do this every single day?”

“C’mon, you have to admit this is better than punching each other.”

“You’re the one who wanted to learn self-defense.” Thomasin crossed her arms over her chest, hand accidentally brushing Edith’s hip.

“And you’re the one who wanted to learn how to apply cosmetics.”

“I was high.”

“So was I,” Edith retorted, jabbing the pencil in Thomasin’s face.

“Good point.”

“May I continue?”

Thomasin relented, closing her eyes and screwing up her face in anticipation. “Be gentle with me.”

Almost an hour later, Thomasin examined her face in a silver compact mirror as Edith bounced on her toes behind her. The effect of the cosmetics was not one of delicate femininity like when Edith did her own makeup. That had been what Thomasin was expecting, for Edith to do exactly what she did to her own face to Thomasin’s. Instead, Edith had crafted a look for her that felt like Thomasin, only amplified.

Where Edith’s eye makeup was reminiscent of dew-encrusted flower petals, gentle pinks and shimmery soft edges that blurred into her skin, Thomasin’s eyes spoke of blood-drenched daggers under a moonlit sky. The charcoal was a dramatic slash of black along her lashes that swept out into a dangerously sharp point. Her eyelids were painted with a bloodred pigment that was as beautiful as it was sinister. There was a dusting of silver sparkles traced along her lower lash line. Like the sparks that flew from a blade when you sharpened it. Or stars in a night sky.

“Do you like it?”

“I—” Thomasin was having a hard time dragging her gaze away from the reflection. Her lips were a shade somewhere between black and red. She had never thought she could look like this, never would have tried on her own. She always thought that if she put effort into her appearance, acted like she was capable of being the kind of beautiful that other women were, she’d just end up making a fool of herself. But Edith had made a wonder of her.

“It’s okay if you don’t! We can try something else.”

Thomasin reached out blindly to take Edith’s hand. The other woman’s fingers interlocked with hers.

“I love it,” she said.

“Really?” Edith’s voice tipped into the highest of pitches. The way it only did when she was really, properly excited aboutsomething. Which happened quite a lot, actually. Usually at least a couple times a day.

Thomasin finally looked at Edith, hoping she would be able to see how much it meant to her that Edith always saw her in ways that no one else did. “Really. It’s perfect.”