So sorry for not updating, but I've had a ton of work to do and just didn't feel like writing. Hope you enjoy this new chapter, and thank you to everyone who reviewed my work!

Chapter 6

Lightening flashed at midnight. The corridor where I stood was illuminated by the sudden spark across the sky, and somewhere in the distance, the grandfather clock pealed its twelve ring.

Opposite to me, Fine stood in shock. The feeble light from her candle shifted suddenly to the left, and extinguished, but her white nightdress glowed eerily in the dark.

"Fine."

"…Shade."

"Why are you up so late?" I asked. The view from the window was obscured by the blanket of rain, and behind her, the door she went through slammed shut.

"I was visiting Nancy." Adamant, she raised her chin, and stared at me with her limpid, honest eyes.

"Scared of the thunder?" I smirked.

"Not me, her. I always stay beside Nancy when there's lightning."

"Then why is your voice shaking?"

"Am not."

"Aren't you going to stay with her through the night?" I asked.

"She's sleeping. Was asleep when I went to check on her," she said, and flinched.

Lightning dazzled the corridor once again, casting shadows across our faces. Her eyes glowed like fire for that instant, as though they had found a reason to roar and burn. But the light faded as quickly as it had sliced through the sky, and we were shrouded in darkness once more.

"No, you're not afraid of thunder. You're scared of the dark."

"Am not!" she spoke a bit too loudly.

Chuckling, I reached for her hand, hoping to guide her back to her room, but as I moved, a strange whistle resounded.

"What was that?"

"It's just the wind," I reassured her. When she turned back to look, I slid my hand around her wrist, which made her jump.

"What—don't do that." Upset that I had found a weakness of hers, she squirmed and swayed, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

"You'll need to light your candle again if you want to get back to your room."

"I'm…I'm fine. I could just go back."

"Alright then. Go ahead." I opened the door behind me, and the windowless rooms gloated with their growling darkness. Fine took a step, hesitated, took another step.

"Fine then, Get me a candle." Her arm relaxed and brushed against mine.

I brought her to the library. When I first visited it, it was bursting with unused furniture and low-hanging chandeliers, and the shelves were littered with ornaments and busts of stern, dead men. It took me several weeks to refurbish the entire mansion, but I had spent the most time in redesigning the library, pouring over every detail and feeling giddy when imagining my results. I expected that neither Fine nor her future fiancé would have much use for the library (and I turned out to be right), but I just couldn't leave it like that. Not abandoned and ignored, no.

I reckon it to be a harmless fancy of mine, my bias towards libraries. My peers had ridiculed me for such a strange hobby, but there's a feeling I couldn't describe when I'm leaning back on an armchair, surrounded by books and gentle lamplight.

Matches were stored in the second drawer. I struck the match, and relit Fine's candles, as well as the ones on the desk. Immediately, an orange glow suffused the room.

"Finally," she muttered.

As usual, I grabbed the book I left on the desk, and sat down on one of the new, plush sofas to read it. Observing my actions, Fine should have understood this was the end of our conversation, and that she was free to go. However, she stayed.

I glanced at her cocked head, gaping at my book. "Would you like me to accompany you back to your room?"

She shook her head. "What are you doing?" she asked.

I sighed. "What do you want now?"

"I just don't really feel sleepy. Can I stay for a while?"

With a sweeping gesture, I motioned her towards the other sofa, but she ignored me and sat right beside me.

"What's that book?"

"It's a collection of poems."

"Oh."

Unnerved by her presence, I glanced at her intermittently, completely distracted from what I was reading. It was a shame, really, because the pages deserved my utmost attention. Yet she was there, gazing intently at my book, mouthing the words like a curious toddler, and what else can I do?

"If you're not sleepy, why don't you pick up a book as well?"

"I'm not very good at reading."

"Then, I don't know, play the piano or sew or something. Just don't sit here and do nothing."

"I don't like playing the piano, and I'm terrible at sewing. The only thing I like is going outside and playing football, but it's raining so I can't do that. Anyway, you don't let me play football, so there's that."

"Are you trying to annoy me?

"I don't know. Am I annoying you?"

I gave up. Closing my book, I turned slightly to my right to see her properly. She sat upright, hands on knees, her back rigid and tense despite the cushion behind her. "I could blow the candles now and we'd be in the dark," I said.

Shivering, she tugged at the hem of her nightshirt to hide her fear. We sat in silence for a while, until she timidly suggested that I read her a poem.

I scoffed. "I never thought you'd be interested."

"I've never heard one before. I've heard of songs. They're kind of like poems, right?"

"Right."

"Just read me one. Your favourite one."

There it was again, her total determination, and her belief that somehow, she'd wring a response of some sort from me. Grumbling, I acquiesced, flipping to a random page and read aloud,

"For cold and raw the air was, and untuned,

But, as a face we love is sweetest when—"

"What does 'untuned' mean?"

"It means not properly adjusted."

"Why's the air not properly adjusted?"

"It's a metaphor."

"What's a—"

One glare from me silenced her.

"Let's try something else then," I turned to another page, hoping to find something that she'd understand more easily, and settled on one,

"One must have a mind of winter—"

But that led to another round of questions.

"It's all too complicated," she moaned.

"A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands—"

"Better, but too long." She shook her head again.

"Fine…"

In truth, that was one of the first moments of joy I shared with her. Between her tiresome complaints and my irritation, I had secretly enjoyed sharing one of my passions with her. Poetry wasn't held in high esteem among the demons; they deem it a sign of humanity, and vulnerable sentimentalism, that a demon who loved poetry, and art, and music, was liable to fall in ranks with humans and forget their responsibilities. In retrospect, they weren't wrong. Yet it was their deaf ears to my joy, that prodded me towards Fine, who despite not truly knowing what I was saying, at least tried. Also, the slight crease in her forehead and her nose when she encountered something unfamiliar, somehow made her doll-like face more endearing to me.

"No coward soul is mine,

No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere!

I see in heaven's glories shine,

And Faith shines equal, arming me from fear."

Her lips parted in awe at those words, at first, but as I read on, her disapproval settled in, and I was prepared to begin my quest in searching for the right poem again, when her hand rested on mine.

"Go on," she muttered. "That was slightly better."

I read a few more, I read some from ancient poets, and the modern ones, the better modern ones.

Until, at last,

"The first blossom was the best blossom

For the child who never had seen an orchard;

For the youth whom whiskey had led astray

The morning after was the first day."

And her face creased into a smile.

"Satisfied?" I said. I had recited for over an hour now. I had sunk and rose in the dreams of my past, tipped my toe in Elizabethan sonnets and swam amongst the stern verses of the Puritans. These were the words I had listened to, years and years ago, when I was still relatively young(I still am) as a demon, and reading them out loud was like revising my youth, and revealing myself to a whimsical girl who I was forced to protect.

"Thank you."

"Huh?"

"For…for reading for me."

"Did you just say, 'thank you'"

She blushed, and her eyes glowed arduously, like wedding candles. "I just…well…you did something for me and I wanted to…yeah."

Suddenly, I remembered how she had clung to me just this afternoon, as the carriage fell. We were separated as soon as we reached the surface, as I had ordered the servants to wrap her in blankets and the doctors to reassure her, and help her out of shock. Suppose…I smiled inwardly as she fiddled her collar. Suppose she was also thanking me for saving her?

"No," she said when I suggested that. Yet she was unable to look me in the eye.

"That was nice."

"What?"

"Me reading aloud to you."

"Yeah."

For the first time, we both smiled.

"Shade."

"Hmm?"

"Nancy's kind of told me about this agreement between you two."

I froze. Had the bitch reveal my identity to Fine?

"She said you promised to make me a noble woman, or something. But now, now that I am rich, why are you still helping me?"

With that one innocent question, the library lost its glamour. The candle light dimmed slightly, and all else turned to normality. For the first time, I had noticed the emptiness on the shelves after I had cleared out the ornaments, and reminded myself to reprimand the maids for their slackness.

"That's because you aren't a noble woman."

Seeing her confusion, I elaborated. "The old lady who formerly owned this estate was rich, but she didn't have a rank. Her husband made money from investments, and his sister did marry a Baron, but that doesn't count. No, those lords and ladies are far more concerned with bloodline, and I could never have passed you off as someone's lost grandchild. No, there was only one way to fulfil my promise, and to do that you have to first be rich."

"So…how?"

"By marring a nobleman."

Fine was dumbstruck. "There are several eligible bachelors around, all with titles and little money, desperately searching for a wealthy wife to pay their family's debts."

"And all those lessons in singing and dancing…"

"How else would you attract someone into wanting to make you his wife?"

A gust blew in from the gap in the door. Faint peals of thunder were dying in the distance.

"How soon do you plan on marrying me off?" she said sarcastically.

"He's coming to see you tomorrow."

The wind burst through the doors, and the candles went out.

Author's note: Guess who Fine's future fiancé would be?