Aslan hoped for a miracle, hoping Howland came from the rainstorm and brought his sister back to the capital. He didn't know what crazy thing Rosie was going to do next. Or maybe… What a crazy thing Aslan would do if Rosie kept bothering hm.
He wiped his forehead with his wet hand. Aslan chuckled a little when he remembered Rosie accusing him of the word jealousy.
Hell, how could she accuse him of being jealous? Jealous of what? And to whom?
Aslan remembered how happy Rosie was running in the rain. Being chased by her maid while outstretching her arms, letting the raindrops wet her body. How could anyone be so happy with the rain?
Now, Aslan clutched his heavy chest. Maybe what Rosie accused was true. He was not jealous of the people who saw Rosie, but envious of Rosie. He didn't like seeing people cheerfully playing in the rain when he despised the rain itself.
***
