“Magnus,” said Kelela, standing quickly and taking his arm. “Will you draw me? You haven’t drawn me in so long.”

“I drew you three days ago,” he said, but let her lead him without a fight.

I waited until they were walking away toward an armchair where Kelela could pose before quietly rushing out of the room.

CHAPTER 7

I’d started menstruating on my twelfth birthday. I remember because the cramping in my thighs and stomach was so excruciating, I’d literally begged God not to let me die. I didn’t know any other way to deal with it—topics of a sexual nature, as a cultural rule, weren’t discussed outside the home without drawing shame, and so there was no woman in town I could go to for help. All I could do was wait for Jember to get home, foolishly sticking a glass bottle neck inside myself to catch the blood so I wouldn’t ruin every piece of fabric in the cellar.

Jember never batted an eye at creepy Manifestations, but when he saw me cowering in the corner, he turned grey. He made me remove the bottle, grabbing my chin too tightly, the rare touch of his gloved hand catching me off guard. “Nothing goes up there,” he said. “Do you understand? Nothing and no one.”

He gave me one of his pills for the pain, the drugs knocking me out until morning.

No one, he’d said. I had no idea what that meant back then. Jember was the least sexual human I’d ever met. He couldn’t make skin-on-skin contact but didn’t seem to want to touch anyone over clothing either. He never commented on appearance, never looked at women any sort of way, never talked about romance or desire. And because he was the only example I had to follow, I never pursued romantic feelings either, even if I felt them a little. Eventually they didn’t matter to me. Eventually I was so involved in God’s work, I never gave the idea of a relationship a second thought.

Until tonight, that is. When I watched Magnus and Kelela cuddle on the couch and felt a twinge of something I’d been missing.

Not jealousy—that created an entryway for the Evil Eye. But something deeper and worse, because I’d been denying the emotion for so long.

A longing to be loved.

I didn’t have to ask who it was when I heard a knock at the door, since the tinny jingle of bells came with it. I hugged my comforter around my shoulders to cover the simple nightgown Saba had given me. When I shoved the chair I was using as a barricade out of the way and opened it, Magnus was there in a soft, fluffy robe and slippers, holding what looked like an ornate jewelry box.

“You left early tonight,” he accused.

“I was tired,” I said, hugging my cape close.