He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head once. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t imagine my words would have such an effect on you. I’m not doubting the reality of this place or the people who come here. I am sure that the site where they’re preparing to build the canal lock, and that other place in the forest with the settlement, I am certain that they both exist.”
“But—” she began, but he gave her a look and she fell silent again.
“I didn’t ask that question to terrify you, although I did mean to give you a shock.” He looked away, flushing faintly. “It seems I gave you a much greater one than I intended.” He was silent for a moment and then cleared his throat, turning his head so they made eye contact again. He drew in his breath. “The real question I should have asked is ‘why do you behave as if you’re in a cage?’” he asked at last, his brows drawn together. He had set his mouth to a thin line again. His eyes were heavy, but they weren’t angry. If anything, he looked a little—sad?
It was difficult to know.
She sniffled a little and he let go of one of her shoulders to pull a handkerchief from an interior pocket. He pushed it into her hands and she took it in weak relief, unfolding it to rub at her nose and dab at her eyes.
It had a little black wolf embroidered onto it, along with a pattern of very small white flowers. That made her smile.
Once she had cleaned her face, she folded the handkerchief delicately and held on to it tightly.
Then she took a deep breath and asked honestly, “What do you mean I behave as if I’m in a cage?” She still didn’t fully understand his question. She went wherever she wanted. She did what she wanted whenever she wanted to do it. The happiness of doing things like that, of acting freely according to her own whims, it was a happiness that she felt she’d almost forgotten.
He looked at her levelly, and they both stared one another down.
“I have never even seen you attempt to leave this farm,” he said quietly.
She shook her head. “No, I go into the forest all of the time,” she protested. “I go gathering. You’ve been with me!” she pointed out. “That’s where I found you.”
He made an ambiguous nonverbal sound that might have been an agreement, but might have not. “You do go into the forest, but never very far, and always in the same general areas,” he said. “You seem to me like an animal that’s in an enclosure. You know that there are walls to keep you in, so you don’t push against them.”
She thought about it and was forced to nod. She looked away briefly, her cheeks flushing faintly from shame.
“I suppose, I suppose I’m acting out of habit,” she said quietly. “Out of instinct. Before—” She paused, uncertain of how exactly to explain herself, but then elected to avoid the complications entirely. “Before I was here, I was at another place, another great house in the forest, only there, there I wasn’t allowed to leave the estate, not without guards, not alone, and never at my own choosing, never because I simply wanted to. I had a lot of responsibilities, a lot of things I needed to do each day. I guess I, even though I know that I can leave this place when I want, it’s simply never occurred to me to try.”
“When an animal has been caged for a long time, it often behaves as if it’s still in a cage even after it’s been released,” he said gently, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
They walk in circles. They pace. They stick close to where they were first released, Demi thought to herself, tensing. She had read about the phenomenon before, and now that she thought about everything, it seemed obvious, and that made her feel deeply uncomfortable and ashamed of herself, as if she were somehow at fault for being the way she was.
Aelfric seemed to sense that she was working herself back up again so he gripped both of her shoulders tightly for a second time, although this time he did not shake her.
“Speak to me,” he said. “I cannot know what you’re thinking unless you say it.”
She hiccuped, drawing in her breath, and then nodded silently. After a moment of gathering herself, she spoke.
“I’m just so ashamed of myself,” she said, shaking her head. “How weak and stupid am I, to keep doing the same things over and over again. I don’t think I would have even noticed, if you hadn’t pointed it out, even though it’s so obvious.” She laughed weakly but it was not a happy sound.
He made another nonverbal sound and gripped her shoulders tightly.
“No,” he said with some authority, drawing her out of her circling distress. “Of course you couldn’t see it. I’m sure you learned to push it out of your mind as a way of surviving. Over time, you conditioned yourself not to push on things that were likely to lead to you being hurt. None of that is your fault and it does not mean that you are weak and it does not mean that you are stupid.” He sighed, then said, “If every door you ever try to open is locked, you will eventually stop trying to open them. Over time, you will stop recognizing that they are doors at all.”
Demi looked down at the ground, still feeling ashamed of herself.
“But I should have kept trying, I—”
He let go of her shoulder to bring his hand under her chin, tilting her head up so that she could not avert her eyes.
“I think you have,” he said with quiet conviction. “I think you have been doing that in your own way.” His cheeks flushed slightly and he looked away. “I apologize,” he said haltingly. “I seemed to have made some assumptions about you that are unfounded.”
He was earnest, but also awkward, as if unsure what he ought to say or do in this situation, and that touched her, driving away some of her shame and filling that space with empathy instead.
“You’re a good man,” Demi said honestly, because that was unquestionably true to her in that moment, and more than that, it was what she wanted to say. He had taken her aside to confront her on this because he was earnestly concerned for her well-being. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
Through the hand he still had on her shoulder she felt him stiffen for a moment, freezing as if his personal time had stopped. Then he looked away sharply, the faint flush still visible in his cheeks as he did.
He seemed unsure what to say or do in response to her statement, so she smiled tiredly at him.
“I can’t help but be a little regretful,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I feel like I’ve already wasted some precious time by being afraid to leave this place. I know that time can never be gotten back once it’s gone.”
“No,” he agreed, turning back to look at her again because the subject seemed comparatively safe. “Time that has passed never comes again, but I don’t believe that you have wasted any of your time. Besides that,” he said, clearing his throat so that his voice dropped lower, “it does not matter what things were like in the past. Today is today. Now is now. You’re not in a cage any longer. You can be as you wish to be. You can do what you want to do and go where you want to go. The door is open, Demeter.”
She smiled at him then, genuine and soft in the falling twilight, her eyes gentle and her heart filled with all of her cares for this place, for this moment.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “The door is open.”