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

Chapter Four: A Child

Cressida silently stared at the toddler.

"Callidus." She began softly. "Why is Prince Varyan in our room?"

(Our room!)

A glimmer of excitement appeared on Callidus's face as he carefully presented the child to Cressida, a gentle breeze lifting him up, "It's a surprise," he responded cautiously, his tone filled with gentleness. "I noticed your restlessness and how upset you were yesterday when I didn't let you see your companions..."

Cressida interrupted, "...so you kidnapped your half-brother...?" her voice was a hushed whisper as if she were trying to contain her anger in front of the child, "...what about Her Majesty?"

"I did not kidnap him," Callidus replied calmly, his gaze fixed on Cressida. "My aunt gave me permission."

Cressida's lips tightened, "...I can only imagine how you asked for permission," she muttered under her breath. Yet, her gaze remained fixed on the young boy, who appeared fascinated as he floated in front of the bed. "...for how long?"

"Just for the afternoon. Only for a few hours. I thought it would be a pleasant change for both of you."

Callidus attentively observed Cressida, noticing the interplay of emotions on her face as she struggled between disapproval and curiosity. However, as Varyan extended his chubby hands towards her, her resistance began to crumble. After only a brief hesitation, she plucked the toddler out of the air, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips as the breeze rustled his fluffy black cloud of curls.

"Hello, Your Highness," Cressida addressed Varyan in a voice that surprised and enchanted Callidus, its pitch higher, slower, and achingly adorable. "I suppose I get to play with you for the day. Is that okay?"

Varyan responded with a stream of incomprehensible babbling, and Callidus watched, puzzled, as Cressida seemed to melt at the sound, her mouth splitting into a delightful grin. "Oh, I bet your mother is thrilled that you're here." She spoke in that same captivating tone. "She loves you sooo much. Doesn't she? Of course, she does! Who wouldn't?"

Varyan giggled in response while Cressida continued to shower him with affectionate words. Her demeanor softened, her caution giving way to a genuine tenderness, casting aside the walls she had built around herself.

As Cressida cooed at Varyan and gently bounced him on her knee, Callidus couldn't tear his eyes away. He observed the scene unfolding before him, as if he were watching from a window, and he felt his heart rapidly pulsing within his chest.

Familiar jealousy and longing surged within him.

(Had his mother ever held him like that? Had Cressida ever smiled at him like that?)

As he watched Cressida begin to play with Varyan, Callidus's thoughts lingered on his mother. The quiet woman with short silver hair and downcast eyes. Maybe there had been fleeting moments of physical affection, but he knew deep down that his mother would never have allowed him to play with her hair or dance with her in the same open and carefree manner Cressida now allowed Varyan.

(What was he lacking?)

Lost in his thoughts, Callidus crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on Cressida and Varyan who were now playing on the small plush rug that sat in front of her (his) bed.

Callidus had not anticipated the need for toys, but he watched with interest as Cressida improvised with her own belongings including a hair clasp in the shape of a lion, a handheld mirror, and several colorful handkerchiefs. For the first time since that disastrous day in the courtyard, Cressida's smile seemed genuine as she pretended to make the lion roar before 'gobbling' up the giggling prince.