Book Two: The Larkspur's Longing ~ A tale of deep obsession and devotion

Chapter One: Cressida

He watched as she splashed water over her face, crystalline droplets catching in the curve of her closed eyes.

"...I can help." Callidus murmured, feeling a rush of affection swirl within him as he looked at her.

Cressida.

"You can help me wash...?" she asked, her beautiful voice lacking its usual warmth.

"I..." his words caught in his mouth, as he stumbled over his tongue, "No, I.... Well, I could if you wanted me to. But I can... I can dry you off."

"There's a towel right here, Callidus." she responded, her lips curving downwards like a lovely crescent moon.

She was upset with him.

(Again.)

Callidus felt the air around her regal features shift as she inhaled deeply, casting out a sigh that swept through the room as she finished washing her face. Her long marigold hair hung like a curtain as she reached for the towel blindly. He tugged it just out of her reach, sending a warm current to envelop her instead.

"I'm better than a towel," he responded playfully, brushing the water from her face, and gathering the droplets into a shimmering little ball.

Her eyes opened, piercing him with her storm cloud gaze, and the water slipped back into the basin.

"Why do you bother bringing me one then?" she asked, curtly. "Do you even use towels?"

Callidus paused, tilting his head. "...no."

Cressida sighed again, frustration and exhaustion evident in her voice. "Callidus, we talked about this yesterday. Sometimes I just want things to be normal. I want a towel to dry my face, not some display of power from you."

He knew he had to be careful with his words, especially since she was already upset with him. He didn't want to push her away further.

"...this is my normal." He responded softly. "I...want to include you in my normal. If it seems like a display of power, I apologize."

He watched intently as she stepped away from the silver basin, avoiding his gaze entirely. The soft fabric of her violet nightdress glided against the plush rug as she made her way to the grand window. A surge of panic fluttered in Callidus's chest, a familiar sensation that always arose when Cressida stood before the expansive rectangular pane.

"You say you want to include me." Cressida muttered. "Yet, when I ask about your day, you hardly tell me anything."

"It's not interesting." Callidus replied, trailing after her. (She was too close to the window) "Pointless meetings. Irritating nobility."

She sighed as he appeared beside her, "It may not hold any interest for you." She said curtly, "But given I'm imprisoned in this room with nothing else to do, I find it extremely interesting."

Callidus felt a pang of concern as he realized that Cressida was growing restless in their shared bed chamber. His eyes wandered the chamber, taking in how much her presence had changed his previously private space. Shelves of their shared belongings lined the walls. Their two beds sat on opposite sides of the room, interspersed with a vanity set, a table with two chairs, and an ornate divider that she dressed behind.

At her request, Callidus gladly removed most of his old furniture, understanding Cressida's unease about him remaining in the same place where he had been imprisoned before. He found her reactions endearing and enjoyed assisting her in rearranging their shared space. Using his magic, he effortlessly moved whatever she pointed at, reveling in the joy of making her feel comfortable and at home.