The Ring Master's Fair

PART 8

The Ring Master's Fair - Part 8

Dinner was slightly awkward for Lark. Woman and men alike looked upon her with a strange curiosity. Like they have never seen someone who did not come from a rich family mingle among them. So, she sat towards the front of the table on the right side between Chrys and Rylan. She chatted with them about the delicacies that lay on the mahogany table.

"You must try the steak, it is simply divine," Chrys chattered, excited to have someone her own age that was a female to chat with. "The chef is one of the best in the kingdom."

"The wine! The wine is the best. You could never find it anywhere else. Made fresh from purple grapes that grow along the edge of the kingdom," Rylan said as he poured her a glass of the rich, purple liquid.

Lark carefully took a sip so she wouldn't spill the wine and ruin another beautiful dress. It tasted like grape juice but had a sharp, bitter tang to it. "Wow," she said.

Chrys and Rylan kept on chattering on and on while Lark sat back and tried her best to listen. Except her mind ended up wandering elsewhere. She thought of how mad Lucinda had been as she had stormed out of the drawing room earlier. What could Lark have done to her to make her so mad?

And what was Atticus up to? Was he still out in the rain? Why had he even decided to do what he did? What was going on in his mind?

Various chatters around the room soon halted when a spoon clanked loudly against a wine glass.

"May we greet a guest with a warm welcome?" Alkis asked from the head of the table. "Miss Lark, please, come."

Lark uneasily slid out of her seat and padded to the front of the room. "Hi," she barely whispered.

An awkward silence rang loudly throughout the dining hall.

"Lark is here as a friend to me as well as a friend and companion to my cousin, Chryste." Rylan's words settled down the awkwardness and saved Lark from too much embarrassment.

Lark blushed and scurried back to her seat. Conversations slowly resumed. As Lark focused on keeping her mashed potatoes separated from her corn on the plate in front of her, she listened in on some of the conversations around her.

"Such a pretty girl."

"Who is she?"

"What part of Olilith is she from? Or is she not even from here?"

"Is she royalty? A relative?"

Those were just some of the things that were being said; but she managed to come to the conclusion that nearly all the conversations topics were about her.

Soon, after a dessert of bread pudding - which Lark greatly avoided - the king dismissed everyone. Rylan and Chrys wanted to give her a tour of the castle, but she quickly excused herself to go up to the room, saying that she was to tired.

After Rylan complained and Chrys said to rest, Lark headed up to her room. To be honest, she was far from tired but needed some time alone to think about the day's events.

As she neared her bedroom door, she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she saw it lay open.

Maybe Nadine and Riva were still in there? Or maybe they forgot to close the door behind them?

Opening the door, she saw a figure laying across the bed. "Who's there?" she called hesitantly.

"Atticus," the figure said.

Lark frowned and crossed her arms as she sulked over to the couch. She plopped down, squeezed her eyes closed, and wrapped herself in the fuzzy, gray blanket she had left laying there.

Light danced across her eyelids. Opening one eye, she saw that the room had come to life with light from the fireplace.

Atticus threw another peice of fire wood in the fireplace before making his way over to where Lark was.

"Go away. I'm to tired," she lied in attempt to get rid of him.

He just ignored her and squeezed himself into the small space on the couch that she wasn't occupying.

Lark groaned and buried herself further under the blanket.

"Let me explain," he actually begged.

She didn't bother to answer, though.

The blanket was suddenly ripped from her hands so she lay uncovered by the warmth.

"Ahhhh," she shrieked. "Cold. Cold! Give me my blanket back."

Lark managed to tug the blanket back from his grip and wrapped it even tighter around herself.

"It's actually my blanket," Atticus corrected.

"What do you want!?" she finally bolted upright, already annoyed with him.

"To talk, let me explain what happened earlier."

"What in the world is there to talk about? You knew I didn't want to be out there on the rain. You knew I was scared. Yet you still held me there for whatever reason," she rambled angrily.

"You're cute when you're angry," he mused.

She over exaggerated a loud groan. "Out," she said, pointing to the still open door.

But Atticus didn't move. He instead spoke up again. "I am sorry. I thought I could help you get over your fear. Being afraid of a storm just seems so stupid to me."

Lark felt tears come to her eyes. "Fear? You don't even know what real fear is. You may think that something like being afraid of a thunder storm is stupid, but it's not for me." She was now shouting so loudly that people from the other side of the castle could probably hear her words.

Atticus frowned. "Then explain to me why you were so afraid."

"No."

"No? What? Why not?"

"It's to personal. And we are far from getting to know each other that well."

Atticus tried to pester her more about her fear of storms. But each time he did, she got closer and closer to wanting to burst into tears.

Finally, Atticus gave up. He simply stood up and shook his head before walking out the door.

Lark spent the rest of the night huddling under the blanket. She cried and she relived the memories of her father's death and the storm that made her so afraid.