Foolishly Falling for You

17

Anita

The best course of action, Lance has decided, is that he return to war, and yet, here he stands, his arms crossed, his shirt stretched taut across his broad chest.

"So...I shall take my leave of you."

I roll my eyes. "So you have said...so many times. And yet...here you stand."

"Here I stand, vexed at the thought of you by your lonesome, and yet troubled at the thought of you with another," He frowns thoughtfully.

Must he show so much skin?

"I will be fine. I am not a child."

He scoffs. "Of course not. Children are manageable. You...you are more tricky than a child."

What a compliment from the great Lance Mendoza. Tricker than a child. I think that's the nicest thing he's said to me.

"So...who, I wonder will I entrust with my wife?"

"Your wife. I have done well enough keeping myself alive till now."

He raises his brow, his eyes sweeping over my form. "It is precisely your method of keeping yourself alive that I worry for. I am unsure I'm satisfied with your version of success at this task."

I flip him off and he smirks.

"My my, as merciless as the sea with the curves of the tides, what am I to do?"

"Leave," I drawl.

He rolls his eyes, waving his hand in dismissal, muttering incoherent sounds of refusal.

"I know what I will do!" He exclaims after a moment of indecision. "I will write to you. At least once a week, and if you do not respond, or I fear for you, I will return--"

"Don't return," I sigh.

"I will return," He says slightly louder over me, "Post haste. Do we have an accord?"

I narrow my eyes, rising to my feet, looking him deeply in his eyes. "We have an accord...Admiral Mendoza. Leave me to my life. I will respond at least once a week."

"Respond to every letter," He demands.

"Within reason."

"And if I am unreasonable?"

"May the sea take you," She shrugged.

He heaves a sigh. "I return to my duty to the crown, wife. Will you be siphoning funds from our household toward your personal fund?"

I frown. How lowly does he think of me? "Of course not!"

He frowns deeply. "You should. I would've taken me for all I'm worth. I expect to see some treachery and cooking of books when I return."

I bury my smile, licking my teeth, and shrug. "If I get round to it, I suppose I will."

He nods resolutely. "Good. Well...farewell. I shall.."

He tells me again he's taking his leave with his feet planted to the ground, I sigh.

He smiles and kisses the apex of my head gently.

"Perhaps when I return, the sun will be rising in the west." He whispers.

"As likely as that is," I nod. Finally, he turns around, leaving. I watch him out the window once more. he rides horseback this time. The King is furious, his father is furious, so he has no time to consider comfort.

I raise the window. "Try to perish in the war!" I shout.

Once again I have shocked and appalled the neighbors.

He waves back, one hand on the saddle, with a careful smirk. "I shall certainly try my hardest! Work on your embezzlement skills!"

"I intend to!"

He rides off, thoroughly amused toward, what I can only hope is his doom. It would be nice to end like this. A hope that things will get better, without the curse of me having caved into his attentions. He rides off into the sunset, the wind and me at his back, with such a charming disposition. Here, in a play, I figure there will be a swell in the orchestra. Playing a hopeful chord.

But this is not a play.

And he is not a hero. I am not a damsel. We are two people who are coming to an end.

But god...wouldn't it be beautiful if it were true?

I stave off the urge to dream. Dreams lead to ruin, after all, and a dream unfulfilled sucks at ones soul like poison. And where I be, in the remains of a dream? To have a desk, I've learned is a dangerous thing.

To have a dream is a beautiful thing.

Until you have to wake up.

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